Hello,

English is not my native language, but I like to read and write in English ;-) A big thank you to my wonderful beta Ethereal Siren for her wonderful work 3

Dead End

Frustrated, Dean threw the book that he'd been reading since they got back to the motel on the bed. They had been researching for hours with nothing to show for it.

Sam looked up at him questioningly, when Dean went to the small fridge and grabbed a beer and the bucket of the leftover chicken. "There must be something!" he griped with his mouth full.

Sam gave up the research on his laptop and sat down on his bed facing toward his brother. "I think so too, but it's not a Celtic or a satanic sign. I haven't found anything," Sam announced. There was a brief pause where only the crunching of paper in the chicken bucket could be heard as Dean fixed the lid back into place. "We should sleep. Tomorrow, we'll call Bobby. Maybe he knows something," Sam suggested.

Their motel room was decorated in dark red. It was, as usual, a double room with two beds and it had a small white fridge on the right side.

On the walls hung pictures of the fields and mountains surrounding the small town. The bedroom was separated from the dining room and living space by a wall.

The bathroom had a shower, which was exactly what Dean needed right then. He gathered a clean undershirt and boxer-briefs to sleep in before entering the bathroom where he washed off the dust and sweat from the day.

Tiredly, he ran one hand over his eyes, then splashed some warm water in his face before he went into the room and dropped himself on the bed.

As he settled himself, he took the bucket of chicken form the nightstand and ate the rest while Sam went to take a shower as well.

Frowning, he thought about what had been happening in this town. Maybe these were really just a few youngsters who had smeared some arbitrary signs onto the wall.

This, however, did not explain the destruction of the factory and the deaths of several people.

Brooding, he crossed his hands behind his head and stared up at the age-yellowed ceiling.

The light from the small lamp threw mad patterns across the walls and ceiling, which Dean sank into after few minutes. Then, his brother came back into the room, threw away the empty container, switched the light off and settled himself in the other bed; all of which did not disturb the blonde from his lull.

The next morning the pale light of the sun streaming through the louvers of the window shutter woke up him. He blinked sleepy, stretched himself, and then sat up.

His gaze then glided to the kitchen and, startled, his eyes flew open. After only few seconds, Dean turned to find his weapon, but when he looked again to the dirty kitchen, nobody was there anymore. Had he only imagined the person?

With all the noise, the taller man began to wake.

Tiredly, he looked at Dean in confusion. "What's wrong?" he mumbled discontentedly. Surprised, Dean winced, then turned around to face him. "Nothing! I thought I… I must have still been dreaming when I woke up," Dean hedged with a careless grin.

Sam wasn't convinced, but he left it alone because he knew that his brother would not just come out with it if he pushed him.

Shoulder twitching, he sank back into the pillows with a groan. "Don't fall back to sleep, lazybones! We've got to find out what is wrong in this town, today.", teased Dean.

To annoy his little brother even more, he grabbed the edge of Sam's blankets and snatched them off. Sam tried to get his cover back, but Dean was quicker.

Quickly, he moved the cover in front of the brown haired man in defense. "You're such a child," Sam complained as he disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

Dean ignored him, refusing to let his little brother spoil his fun. "Sam, I've got to go and get us some food." he called to his brother.

Not waiting for the 'okay' from his brother, he walked out the door just as he finished talking.

It was a sunny day again. And again, the people with their briefcases hurried through the small town.

In all this hectic rush walked Dean, slowly sauntering down the street almost absently.

This was one of the reasons why he was a hunter and did not settle. Most of these people worked at an insignificant job which didn't save any lives and, nevertheless, they came home tired and broken from the day's labor.

Even if the life of a hunter was strenuous, he knew every day when he lay down in one of the dirty motel beds what he had done. He knew that he had done some good.

A good feeling stole over him and made him smile happily as he turned into a small diner.

"What can I bring you?" asked the waitress at the bar. Dean smiled at her charmingly. "Hmm… one, no, two, cheeseburgers, a big coke, a chef's salad and a coffee. Everything to go," he gave the order.

With a fragrant bag tucked under his arm, he stepped out onto the sidewalk again, and began walking toward the motel when his sight fell upon the other side of the street; being caught immediately by two blue eyes.

"Pay attention!" a man complained loudly when Dean almost ran him down. This distracted him for few moments, and when he looked back to where the blue eyed man had stood, nobody was there.

Dean shook his head and checked his surroundings. "Now you're starting to hallucinate," he quietly said to himself. The feeling of being observed didn't disappear for the whole day.

That evening, they finally contacted Bobby, but he couldn't help them. He had never seen the sign before either.

They were at a dead end, and had no notion as to how they should find their way out of this labyrinth.

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