San Antonio, Texas 2006
Sam tapped the pencil against the scarred round table in the corner of the room, bending over his sheet of notes in the dim lamp light that encircled it. To his right were three books, spread out to various pages, each detailing various creatures that might abduct girls in the specified age group that they were looking for. The list was getting narrower by the minute. On the wall Dean had tacked up the map with the half-drawn pentagram and stuck three red thumbtacks to the cities that the girls had already been taken from.
They had arrived in San Antonio less than two hours ago, checked into a local motel near the area that the note had told them to go. They had become fairly certain that the San Antonio State Hospital had nothing to do with the attacks in general. Why the note-writer had instructed them to go there was beyond them.
The San Antonio State Hospital had been built in 1892 and took up more than 500 acres of land on the southern edge of San Antonio. It had been called the Southwest Lunatic Asylum, until laws had demanded that the name be changed to "state hospital". It was still fully operational, with a full staff and many patients, and there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary in the facility or around it.
"Why here?" Sam wondered, tapping the pencil harder in frustration.
Dean looked up from where he had been cleaning a rifle with care, and stared at the No. 2 pencil furiously clicking against the wood. His eyes narrowed sharply for a moment then he sighed and looked at his brother.
"I don't know. I doubt we're going to be able to get a lead on this thing until it strikes. We don't know where or when that's going to be, and we can't guess at who it's going to take next."
He returned his attention to the rifle as Sam pushed back from the table, sticking the pencil in his mouth and running his hands through his hair. He stood up, pacing the floor like a restless caged tiger.
"What if this is a trick?" he demanded. "What if we're following the wrong trail and as we sit here on our asses, some poor girl is getting snatched out of her bedroom on the other end of town?"
Dean shook his head mildly but didn't look up. "That's entirely possible. But the MO isn't always the same. Some of the girls were taken on their way home from school, at the park, it's entirely random."
"Then how the hell are we supposed to stop it?" Sam half-shouted.
Dean set the rifle down and looked at his brother with furrowed eyebrows. Behind the navy blue curtain of the motel room the sun was beginning to set, sinking low against the horizon and painting the sky in a canvas of flame red to light pink. Dark thunderheads were rolling in from the north, and the contrast to the sunset was striking.
"Sam, what is wrong with you?" Dean asked.
"Nothing," his brother countered, sinking back into the wooden chair.
"Okay," Dean said slowly, with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not the over-share, Care Bear moment kind of guy, but nothing is not the word I would use to describe that little outburst."
"It's just that we have no idea what to do on this one," Sam said after a moment. "Those girls keeping disappearing and we don't know if they're still alive, or dead, where they are or even what the hell is taking them. We don't have the first clue and it doesn't look like we'll be getting one any time soon."
Dean nodded. "You can't get wrapped up in this, dude. You have to separate yourself. I've told you that a hundred times. Don't get attached."
"I'm not attached, Dean," Sam said sharply. "I just want to find those girls alive and get them back to their families."
"And I want to what? Throw them off a cliff?" Dean snapped. "I want the same thing you do, but losing your cool isn't going to find them faster."
Sam sighed and nodded, conceding his older brother's point. Dean was right. He moved the blinds from the window and stared out as the rim of the sun disappeared over the horizon and a spike of lightning cracked against the sky, the bullwhip of the angels. It was going to storm tonight, most likely sooner rather than later. He stared across the parking lot as the shadows descended.
"Dean," he said sharply.
Dean stood up quickly and came to his brother's side, detecting the urgency in Sam's tone. He looked over Sam's shoulder and found nothing but empty parking lot, shadows deepening in pools of inky black where the overhead lights didn't reach.
"I saw something," Sam said quietly. "At least, I thought I did."
"What did you see?"
"It looked like, a shadow. A person, maybe. It was right over there," Sam pointed to the far end of the parking lot where the asphalt ended and a line of scattered trees began.
Dean looked again and for a second swore that he could feel someone staring back. The feeling unsettled him, but passed quickly. Nerves? There was nothing in the shadows but darkness, and there was no shape of a person that he could see.
"Well, there isn't anything there now," Dean told him.
Both men jumped as a sharp crack hit the door three times. Knocking. Three rapid knocks then silence. Dean looked at Sam and moved slowly to the bed, pulling a 9mm handgun that he had already cleaned and reassembled from the covers and taking the safety off. A resounding click was heard inside the room as he cocked back the hammer and moved military style to the side of the door, covering Sam's back.
He felt jumpy and his hands were slick with sweat where he held the gun. He remembered the feeling of being watched and a knot formed in his gut. Sam hesitated at the doorknob, seeking out his brother's face one last time, but only silence was on the other side. He pulled back the chain lock and disengaged the door lock then quickly pulled open the door.
A white envelope fluttered to the ground, stirring slightly as though it were trying to run away in the breeze that had brushed past. The silence outside was absolute, too quiet, the silence of death descended upon the land. Sam scanned the area but found nothing, no sign of life, and no sign that anyone had ever been there to deposit the envelope. He picked it up with trembling hands and shut the door quickly, holding it up for Dean to see.
"How?" Dean wondered. "We were standing at the window. . .we would have seen whoever stuck that there."
Sam shrugged but the movement was more nerves than a casual brush off. "I don't know. I wish whoever it is would stop playing games, though."
Dean tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants after he put the safety back on and watched as Sam tore open the envelope. They read the note together.
Dean and Sam Winchester,
Glad to see that soldiers still know how to follow orders. Here's the next one. If you don't follow it, another girl will be lost. If you do, you just might save a life. Go to the Brooks Afb Golf Course. Do not delay.
Sincerely,
A Friend
Dean scowled at the letter. He didn't like being jerked around. Whoever was writing this obviously thought that they knew a lot about the brothers. They had referenced soldiers, which was how Dean had always felt about their profession. Soldiers, following orders, fighting the good fight, saving lives in a battle that could never really be won.
Sam stared at the sheet of paper but the words did not change. He looked at Dean slowly.
"Golf course?" he echoed. "That seems like a trap."
"It could be. Could be anything. Could be the Supernatural Hunters of America decided to throw us a surprise party, or could be we've been cordially invited to be sacrifices to Satan. Who knows? We don't have any other leads."
Sam shook his head. "You want to just follow the directions? Walk in blind?"
"Sam, what other choice do we have right now? You read the letter. Another girl is gonna go poof unless we show up at this golf course."
"I can't believe you. That's if this person is telling the truth!"
Dean reassembled the rifle he had been cleaning and set it on the bed, sliding his black leather jacket on over his shoulders. He didn't like it anymore than Sam did, but it appeared that they had little choice but to follow the instructions on the letter. If it was a trap, they would walk right into it. If it was truth, they would save a life tonight. Either way, Dean was determined to find out who was dropping envelopes on his doorstep the way that Fed Ex left packages.
"Sam, we're going. That's final. Get your stuff and get in the car."
He left the motel room, leaving his brother to scowl at his back as he walked across the parking lot. He stopped and looked around on a whim, searching the area for anything that didn't belong.
For a fleeting moment he could have sworn that a crouched shape on the roof over their room stared back at him, but when he narrowed his eyes and blinked there was nothing there but tiles. Just a roof. He shook his head, wondering if he was at last losing it. He stared again at the spot where he thought the shadow had been but, as before, all appeared normal.
Sam brushed past him and Dean followed, each climbing into the car in silence. As the Impala pulled out of the parking lot with a roar and a squeal of tires, neither saw a shadow detach itself from the side of the building and watch their taillights dwindle in the darkness.
