Here's the next part. Enjoy!
Eric Kripke owns everything
Dean didn't mean to fall asleep, but there was no way to stop it. TV wasn't worth keeping an eye open for (Dr Sexy, M.D wasn't on) and Sam wouldn't let him go out for a few beers. His little brother had insisted that he stick around the motel, just in case something came up.
They were currently in Idaho, having just finished a hunt a couple of hours ago. The spirit of a soldier who had been dishonourably discharged had decided to create havoc for the families of anyone who was currently serving in the army. It had taken a while to get rid of, and the exhausted brothers were glad that it was over.
Once they had gotten back to their motel, Dean crashed on one of the beds, and Sam passed time by going through police reports on his laptop. Nothing that seemed to be their sort of job had caught his eye yet.
He looked over at Dean, who was sprawled out on his bed. Sam felt like copying his brother's example, when Dean let out a snort. Sam laughed as the older hunter shook himself awake. "Morning sunshine!"
'What time's it?' Dean asked. Only it came out in a rush as "Whatmsit?"
"Ten-thirty," Sam replied, turning back to his computer. "PM."
Dean rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Ten-thirty? When did I fall asleep?"
"Hmm, I'm not too sure. Maybe around seven-thirty, eightish?"
Dean couldn't even remember the last time he had fallen asleep that early. Around this time, he was usually downing a few cold ones at a local bar and getting to know the town's ladies. "You found anything?" he asked after he had woken up a bit more, standing to pour Sam and himself some coffee.
His younger brother sighed and shut down the current report he was looking at. "Nah, it looks like America's peaceful...for once."
Dean snorted. "Yeah, and I'm a fairy princess. Come on, we just opened the Gate a few weeks ago," He pulled a chair up next to Sam and gave him his drink. "There's gotta be a gig for us somewhere."
Sam pulled up the information about the one thing that might be their kind of job. "Well, there was this one case in Mazomanie, Wisconsin." Dean choked on his coffee and almost fell out of his chair when Sam said the name of the small town. "What?" Sam asked.
"Nothing, keep going." Dean beckoned for him to go on.
"The police report says that a couple of weeks ago, sixteen year-old Rebecca Stonewell was going home one night, but never made it. She was last reported to have been seen at an internet café, twenty minutes before her curfew. Since then, there have been two pretty gruesome murders in the town. Mazomanie's pretty small, so it is a big deal for them." Sam stopped reading and looked at Dean. "So what do you think?"
"I think that we should check it out," Dean said. He reached over for his coat and car keys.
"Wait, are you serious about this? She probably ran off with her boyfriend or something. And those murders could have been done by anyone." Sam was surprised at how eager Dean was.
"Come on, Sammy. We've investigated things for less. Pack your stuff so we can hit the road." Dean hurried outside to wait in the car, leaving behind his puzzled brother to get all their gear.
"Jerk." Sam muttered as the motel door closed.
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