Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine but it's kind of you to think so.

A/N: Thank you for the reviews and alerts in the first chapter. I hope you enjoy this one too.

Blood On The Pages

II

3rd June

It was the slight rays of sunshine that were slipping in through the minute cracks in the curtain, as well as the sounds of someone shuffling about the room, that woke up Dean a second time that day. Blinking heavy eyelids open and turning his head towards the room's only other occupant, he watched as his brother rummaged through his duffel bag which was placed on the already-made bed.

"Mornin'," greeted Sam as he realized his brother was awake.

Dean grunted his reply before rubbing his eyes with his hand. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Almost six. Figured we'd get an early start. I call first shower so you can laze for another 15 minutes if you like." Sam paused for a second. "Or you could go get coffee for us."

"Shower first," mumbled Dean, relaxing back again into his pillow and hitching the covers higher, grateful for the extra snooze time. The sounds of a shower running had already begun to permeate the room when Dean's eyes snapped open again, more alert than before. Quickly turning his head left and right, he made certain of the fact that no-one else was in the room before relaxing somewhat. He couldn't figure out why he suddenly felt like he'd forgotten something – something important, something… crucial. Sam was fine, so that area was covered. They were in a small town – Accra, Oklahoma if he remembered correctly – because of a series of deaths Bobby had sent them to investigate. Nobody was injured, not yet anyway, and they'd yet to start digging into the hunt.

So what the hell had he forgotten?

They'd come in last night, Sam before him, and they'd had dinner and crashed. And that was it. Right? Dean concentrated, trying to remember if he'd woken up sometime during the night, maybe Sam had had a nightmare? But no, he'd remember that. Sam's nightmares usually brought him to full-alertness pretty damn quick and he'd remember that.

The sound of a creaking rocking chair kept popping into his mind but he couldn't place it.

Dean was still in bed, flat on his back and staring up in the ceiling but not really seeing it when Sam popped out of the shower and was surprised to see his brother already fully awake, albeit still in bed. He'd been expecting to have to pester his brother awake for his own shower – or entice him with the scent of coffee at the very least.

"Shower's yours," said Sam. Failing to get through to his brother who'd normally leap at the chance to shower, he reached out with one long leg and poked his brother with his toe.

Dean snapped his eyes to the side and realizing that his brother was done, sat up and pulled his own duffel towards him to get clean clothes.

"Finally. Took you long enough," remarked Dean, his voice muffled due to his head bent towards the ground.

"For someone who always wants to sleep more, you shouldn't complain." When Sam received no jibe in response, a small prick of worry touched him. "Hey, you ok?"

Dean's head came up at the question and he shrugged off all worry with a customary smirk. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be? Unless you've used up all the hot water which would not bode well for you, I can tell ya that much."

"You sure?" Sam could be stubborn when he wanted to – he was a Winchester after all.

Dean shrugged again. Normally, he'd have responded as though Sam was talking about his threat, but today there was no denying that little niggle in the back of his mind. So, he answered in a way to hopefully satisfy both himself and his brother."Yeah yeah, quit worrying. Just thinking I've forgotten something. Probably had a weird dream or something last night."

"Not turning psychic on me, are ya?" Sam asked with a grin.

"No, that's your territory bro, and it's only got space for one freak," replied Dean with a smirk to take the bite out of his words, smacking his brother on the chest with the back of his hand as he passed by him and into the bathroom.

Shaking his head when an off-key rendition of an obscure song could be heard between the sounds of the shower, Sam finished getting dressed along with packing his duffel – if ever having to leave in a hurry, it never paid to have your stuff scattered all over the room. Now having nothing to do but wait until his brother got out, he wandered about the small motel room, tidying up just a bit for all that they'd barely been in the room a whole day. With hardly any records online, his laptop would be useless until it came time to research possible creatures responsible for the killings, and so it went back inside Sam's bag.

Picking up the empty bottles of beer that he and Dean had drank during last night's dinner he carefully placed them in the trashcan located near the door. A spot of something dark near Dean's bed caught his eye and on closer inspection proved to be his brother's journal. Wondering what it was doing on the floor when he hadn't even seen his brother take it out, Sam picked it up and turned it over in his hands. It was a habit Dean had picked up while Sam was in college, something Sam had mimicked after rejoining the hunt. For all that Sam had missed about four year's worth of hunting stories and creatures battled, Dean's journal was barely more filled than his brother's who had rapidly closed the gap through sheer word count on each entry causing Dean to, of course, comment on Sam's "diary-keeping" fixation and asking if maybe Samantha would like a pink journal when the current one ran out?

Shrugging, Sam slipped the leather-bound object back inside his brother's bag where the book was normally kept and gave it no further thought.

Slipping into the side of the booth facing the door, Dean observed the small place. Somehow the description "diner" just didn't do justice to the place – it was far too personalized to be that, and Dean was relatively sure that this was one of those few places that wouldn't have his heart pleading for mercy against the onslaught of grease and cholesterol. Heck, Sam would be saved his having to go through the trouble of giving him his patent "this is so going to your arteries" look.

Taking in the atmosphere of the place, the older Winchester noted that for all that it was an early hour, barely cracking seven, the place was reasonably filled with more than a few teenagers around, having a quick hang before heading off to school but it was by far, filled with older men. Everybody seemed to know, or at least be familiar with, everybody else and as newcomers, Dean and Sam were getting their share of curiosity-filled glances and head turns - him more than Sam, of course although he wasn't sure how much of that came down to Sam generally being perceived as a guy who wouldn't hurt anyone as opposed to Dean being thought of as the person your mother warned you about.

A woman in her mid-to-late forties descended on them and handed them two laminated menu cards.

"Coffee, I presume?" she asked as a greeting, somehow managing to make it seem as though she wasn't in a rush.

"Yes, please. Black for both of us," Sam answered for both of them as Dean immediately began looking through his menu.

"Alright. Be right back with those." And with a quick smile and a swish of her skirt, she had moved away.

"So, where do we start?" Dean murmured.

Sam, somewhat distractedly as he perused his own menu, replied: "I was thinking we start at the library – look up the newspapers of 36 years ago, see what they have to say about the deaths as well as who died. We don't exactly have much to go on."

"Right. Library. Great," drawled Dean. "So what's our cover going t-." Dean wasn't able to finish his sentence as the waitress appeared again, notepad and ball-point in hands, along with a pot of coffee with which she proceeded to fill the cups on the table. After doing so, she carefully placed the pot down and asked:

"Ready to order, gents?"

After writing down their orders, the waitress ("Anna" according to her nametag) paused to grab the menus as well as to ask a question:

"So, if you boys don't my wondering, why are you in town? We don't often get visitors who stay longer than a night, and you're signed up for three already."

Dean was surprised. "How would you know that?"

Anna smiled. "My sister signed you guys in last night. We run these two places together, alternating every other day or so - which means I get to hear about future customers in a timely fashion."

"Alright." Dean nodded before looking to Sam in question of their cover. Since this was a small-town gig, it was important that their covers didn't break or else the news would spread like wildfire, hindering their work.

Sam quickly jumped in to the conversation: "We're Criminology majors from Oklahoma State and as a summer assignment we were thinking we'd investigate the occurrence and effects of violent crime in small towns, see if there are any recurring themes and all that." The lies quickly pouring from his lips, Sam wasn't one to let an opportunity pass. "Actually, one of our professors pointed us to this town – apparently about 40 years ago there was a spree of killings around this time of year and nobody was ever convicted?"

Anna, who'd been listening intently up to this point, sighed."Yeah. I remember those, I was a little girl then. When was it?" Anna screwed up her eyes and tilted her head back, looking up as she tried to recall. "1971? So that'd be what? 37 years?"

"36," Sam corrected. "Do you remember anything that you wouldn't mind sharing?"

Anna shrugged. "No, I don't mind but I'm not sure how much I can help ya boys. It was like a hurricane passed through the town that week, you know, leaving six, seven people dead in its wake. Only thing is, hurricanes don't kill ya with a gunshot through the chest." Smiling grimly, she motioned to her notepad. "I best go place your order before you grow old waiting and my sister complains that I chased away the nice out-of-towners."

"Gun-shot through the chest," Dean pointed out after Anna was out of ear-shot.

"Yeah and within the time-span of a week or so, if she remembers correctly, and around 6 people. Pretty much what Bobby said."

"Still doesn't seem like our kinda gig to me man. Just sounds like some normal Joe went off his rocker, picked up his gun and started getting his jollies by killing people in the dark."

"Yeah, but Bobby would have thought of that too. Besides, we have werewolf deaths pegged as animal attacks all the time, the wound could have been caused by something else."

"Or by a ghostie with a rifle," added Dean. Suddenly he smiled. "Damn Sammy, "Criminology students?" Looks like we'll have to act smart during this shindig, huh?"

"You might have to act, for me it's natural," Sam jibed with a half-smile which disappeared as soon as his brother kicked him under the table.

The conversation soon waned as Anna came with their orders and the brothers set about eating their breakfast, the hunt on hold till they were able to get to a library and get actual information.

As the meal neared an end and Dean sat back, he noticed a strange buzz had entered the conversations that surrounded them. The school-going teenagers had left by then and now it was mostly the older men who were enjoying a last cup of coffee before heading into work. A small group had huddled around the cash-point and Anna was a part of them, a troubled look on her face.

Only minutes later, she came to them and began clearing up their empty plates:

"Looks like you boys really picked a good time to research for that paper thing of yours," she began grimly. "The Sherriff just got called in – one of the townsfolk was found dead in his house by his sister. They say he's been murdered, shot in the chest."

TBC

Reviews are always appreciated. And if Numb3rs doesn't distract me too much with it's first post-strike ep, the next chapter I I hope to get done by tomorrow night.