Author's Note; Thank you for the reviews please keep them coming, they keep me going, and let me know I'm doing okay! Anywhoo..this chapter should pick up, so keep reading.
Eva's shovel hit something hard and she cleared away the rest of the dirt with her boots. "Robert Steve Wilton…" she read off the plaque on his coffin, " you're a pain in the ass." She raised her leg and stamped through the roof of the coffin to reveal the decomposing remains of the baseball player. She hated this part of her job, ruining someone's grave, their resting place…and the smell. She wrinkled her nose, and reached into her bag for her petrol, salt and lighter. She poured the salt over the remains, followed by the petrol, and lit the match, closing her eyes for a moment.
"May God have mercy upon your soul." She dropped the flaming match and watched as the remains went up in flames. Now all she had to do was run the EMF round the house to make perfectly sure it was gone, then she was done.
The Impala rolled up to the curb of Fitchburg Avenue. They'd been driving for hours and both men were tired.
"This it," said Dean, killing the headlights and looking across Sam at the house.
"Number 26, yeah this is it."
Dean stepped out the car, closely followed by Sam. Sam scratched at his chin, where newly formed stubble had begun to peer through. He'd seen this place before he knew it, he just couldn't figure out where.
"We go in through the back" whispered Dean.
"As always," Sam mumbled. "Wait, what of their home?"
"Sam, it's 9 o clock and no lights are on…no one goes to bed that early, their out, trust me."
Sam kept quiet, knowing fully well that he used to go to bed earlier than that at college, but he blamed that on studying…still…Dean didn't have to know.
Dean reached inside his pocket for his tools, and began picking the lock. Within a matter of 30 seconds, they were in the yellow kitchen, looking around.
Dean instantly headed for the most important place…the fridge.
"Dude, they got Nutella!" exclaimed Dean.
"You actually like that crap?"
"It's chocolate and nuts, that Ferrara guys a genius!"
"It's Ferrero…doofus!"
"Geek"
"Come on, let's start with the basement," said Sam heading for the door. Dean made a longing look at the fridge.
"No Dean."
Dean's bottom lip began to quiver in mock child's play, and he whimpered.
"Pleeeaasse."
"No"
"Aw come on Sam!"
"No!" said Sam raising his voice. Dean grunted and stalked past Sam in a huff.
"There's a good boy" it was Sam's turn to grunt as Dean punched him in the gut on his way past. They found the old furniture and the boxes, but decided to start with the trunk. Dean bent low and inspected the broken padlock.
"Maybe the new family got nosy?" reasoned Sam.
"Maybe."
Dean lifted the lid, having the same expression as Eva. Sam watched as Dean's face lit up into a huge grin.
"Bobby Wilton!"
"Who?"
Dean gaped at Sam. "You don't know who he is?" questioned Dean, pointing at the pictures in the trunk.
Sam shrugged.
"And Dad said I'm the dumb one"
"So, who is he?" frowned Sam.
"According to dad, the greatest baseball player of the 60's, ya know he'd kill to be here."
"So you think he's behind all this?" said Sam nodding with his head at the pictures.
"Could be, I say we turn in for the night and do more research in the -" Dean stopped mid-sentence.
"What, what is it?" a worried expression spread across Sam's face.
"Didn't you hear that?"
"Hear what?" the worried expression slowly morphed into one of utter confusion. "You're probably just hearing things, its an old house" and with that Sam turned and headed back up the basement steps.
"Hmmm…maybe."
Sam opened the basement door and froze...
...a rifle nudged at the far side of his head.