Chapter 3

Something was dragging Dean out of his alcohol-induced self coma. It was the smell of coffee. God, he loved the smell of coffee. Always loved the caffeine jolt it gave him. But it wasn't quite enough to bring him to full consciousness just yet. His brain wasn't ready to fully let go of sleep. It knew that when it did, it would be very, very sorry.

"Good morning sunshine! How are we feeling today?" Sam made no attempts whatsoever to mask his sarcasm. That brought Dean's brain to semi-alertness, quite painfully to boot.

"Dude, I feel like that poor little monkey from "Faces of Death". Can you please stop the hammers pounding me in the head. And did you see the cat that crapped in my mouth. Please tell me you caught it so I can kill it." Dean threw his arm over his face, trying to shield it from reality for just a few more minutes.

"No hammers, no cats. Just your old friends Jack and Bud. And you should know by now not to play with the two of them together. You know they just don't get along with each other. Forgive me if I have an extreme lack of sympathy for you. You sure do try to learn lessons the hard way, don't you. I did save you some coffee though, would you like some?"

"Yeah, that'd be great Sam. Ummm, Sammy, where are my clothes?" Dean was a little concerned that he was naked under his covers.

"I had to take them off you and wash them out in the bathtub when you threw up on yourself, again, after I had to carry you all the way back up here from across the street. You did pass out on the sidewalk, remember." Sam shot Dean a look that said he was far from happy with his brother regarding the whole scene. "And you weren't wearing any boxers when I stripped you either? Wanna tell me what happened to them?" Dumb question really, he saw Trish, and the way she scurried into the kitchen after Sam got there to get him, and Dean's desire to say good-bye.

"Thank-God! I thought maybe you took advantage of me in my incapacitated state. That's a relief. Don't know where the boxers went though. Wish I could answer that one. I think I'd like to remember that part."

"Yeah, your self induced, incapacitated state. I should have left you on the sidewalk, sleeping in your own vomit. Or left you there naked. That would serve you right."

"Oh, come on Sammy, that would probably have landed me in jail, and you know how that would have turned out, don't you?"

"Whatever. Just go take a shower so we can get moving. You smell like a school bus full of car-sick kindergartners. Here's your coffee, I'm going to get a newspaper. Please be up and ready to go when I get back. Daylights wasting." Sam walked out of the room, not waiting for Dean's reply.

Dean downed the coffee in two gulps, grateful for the hot liquid against his parched mouth and throat. Moving slower than slow, He made his way to the bathroom. Deciding that today was not the day he wanted to bleed to death, he opted against shaving and settled for the shower only. Stepping into the shower, he turned on the water, letting the ice-cold burst jolt some sense into him. It didn't last long though, and his mind quickly settled back into it's hangover stupor. He mindlessly washed his hair, then himself, and got out. He dressed quickly, he didn't want to hear Sam whine that he wasn't ready to go. He pulled his boots on and tied them just as Sam was unlocking the door.

"Oh good, your up. You ready to go? I'm ready for breakfast, how about you? We've wasted most of the morning, you know. And there's a storm coming, it's getting pretty dark already. The old guy downstairs is pretty pissed too, I guess you kinda threw up on the stairs too. I'd like to get to that farmhouse before it starts to rain. Don't want to be trudging around cornfields in the….."

"SAM, SHUT UP PLEASE!!! Jesus Christ, the Energizer Bunny's got nothing on you today. Either lay off the vitamins or take some f'n Ritalin, will ya!" Dean got up and walked past Sam out the door. Sam just shook his head and smiled. He loved knowing how to push Dean's buttons when he was like this. It was one of the rare occasions he could do it and Dean wouldn't retaliate.

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Breakfast was eaten in almost complete silence. Sam had a rather large cheese omelet, pancakes, hash browns, toast, bacon, and orange juice. Dean had toast. And coffee. And that's it. That's all he could handle, and the sight of Sam's breakfast was making him nauseous. Sam just inwardly laughed with every glance he stole at Dean, his face was a vision to behold. 'Dance to the music, eventually you gotta pay the piper' he thought. And Dean's paying, with interest.

"Dude, you almost done? I can't sit here anymore. I'm gonna go wait in the car. Meet me out there when you're done." Dean grabbed his jacket and walked out, leaving the cash on the table as he went.

When Dean got to the car, he just sank into the familiar leather seats. The feel of which was like a warm blanket and a cup of hot cocoa on a cold, rainy day. Pulling open the glove box, he started frantically searching for the Tylenol he knew was in there and so desperately needed. Tired of rummaging, he started throwing item after item on the floor, until he was finally rewarded with his prize. Popping the cap, he downed that last four in the bottle, and aimlessly tossed the empty into the back seat. With no water, he had to dry swallow them, leaving a chalky residue behind, making him want to gag. Now, he needed to gather the energy to return all that useless crap he had strewn onto the floor back to the glove box. Leaning forward, he started to reach for the junk, when Sam appeared in the passenger side window.

"Need some help there?" he asked as he opened the door and took his usual place at shotgun by Dean's side.

"Yeah, can you pick that crap up, reaching between YOUR legs is not my idea of a good time."

"Sure Dean. No problem." Sam just shook his head, huge grin still plastered on his face. He was really enjoying his brothers misery. He didn't even need to goad him today. Just watching Dean every time he winced or rubbed his eyes was satisfaction enough.

"Which way to Green Acres?" Dean asked Sam, rubbing his temples in slow, circular motion, then jamming the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"You want me to drive Dean? You don't look too good."

"No, I do not want you to drive Sam, and yes …."

"I'm fine," Sam said in unison with Dean, in a sense mocking him.

"Good, we're in agreement then. Let's go."

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The ride to the farmhouse took all of twenty minutes, back roads all the way. Sam took the time to refresh Dean's memory about the task at hand. Dean spent the ride pretty much ignoring everything Sam said, occasionally shaking his head to make it look like he was listening. He didn't have room in his head for Sam's talking and the monster truck rally putting on a show atop his brain.

As if Sam suddenly became a mind-reader, he asked Dean rather abruptly "Dean, have heard a word I've said?"

"Every word Sam. I heard every word."

"Yeah, you heard every word, but were you listening to them?" Sam wasn't stupid. He knew better.

"What's there to listen to? You told it all to me yesterday. Unless you forgot something, I think I got it all. This is simple recon anyway. You said the bitch is nocturnal. Last time I checked, that means she comes out at night, not at 11:30 in the morning."

"I know what I said, but you, of all people, should know to be prepared for anything. Hasn't past experience taught you that yet?"

"We're here," Dean announced, cutting Sam's tirade off before he could get on a roll. Dean turned onto the old dirt drive that led to an equally old house. He parked, got out, went to the trunk, and grabbed two flashlights and two .45s. "Better to be safe than sorry" he mumbled to himself. Handing one of each to Sam, he said, "Let's do this," and made his way up to the porch.

The house didn't look like all the other old, deserted houses they'd seen everywhere else, rotting away from years of abandonment and neglect. It was old, but it had been well maintained over the years. It looked like a family could be living in it right now. It's painted walls were relatively unblemished, the windows were all intact, the shutters all hanging in their proper places. There were even curtains still hanging in the windows on the ground floor. The steps up to the porch were strong and firm. They didn't even creak as both men started up them to the front door.

The front door was actually locked, Sam pulled out his lock picks and went to work. Within a few seconds, both brother were inside the house, closing the door behind them.

The inside was as unremarkable as the outside. Empty, save for a few small chairs and a table or two. This was definitely not the type of house the boys were used to. They were used to houses that the inhabitants ran out of, usually in fear for their lives, leaving everything they owned just to get the hell out. This was a house that simply looked like it had just been left behind.

"Sam, you wanna go up or down, upstairs or basement?" Dean asked, indicating in both directions.

"I'll take down. You go up."

"Up it is, meet you back here." And up the stairs Dean went, leaving Sam to find the basement on his own.

The basement stairs were exactly were Sam thought they would be. In the kitchen. Flashlight in hand, he headed down the stars. About halfway down, he stopped when something crunched under his feet. Training the flashlight down, he saw the remains of a beer bottle. Then he scanned the rest of the stairs below him, seeing many more, along with a few empty beer cans and various liquor bottles that had been discarded here and there and everywhere. Finishing his descent into the basement, it was obvious where the local teenagers came to have a good time. There were half-burned candles all over the place, camping lanterns here and there, some chairs, and a nasty looking mattress on the floor in the corner.

"Uhg, that's a real romantic place to take a date." Sam said, to himself of course. The whole basement smelled like stale beer and cigarettes. When Sam was pretty satisfied nothing 'supernatural' was going on in the basement, he made his way back upstairs. Maybe Dean was having better luck than he was.

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Dean dragged himself up the stairs that would take him to the upper floor of the house, wondering to himself why he was here. He just wanted to curl up and go back to bed. Between his hangover and the fact that the storm clouds were starting to roll in pretty fiercely now, conditions were ripe for a nice long nap. "Get it together Winchester, you haven't taken naps since you were four." Dean said, surprised that he actually said that out loud. Oh god, he was talking to himself. That couldn't be good.

The upper floor had three bedrooms and one bathroom. All of which were empty. No furniture, no nothing. Only a lot of dust and a lot of footprints of various size and shape in said dust. "How many of these footprints are yours you backwards bitch?" Dean said that out loud too. He sure was talking to himself a lot today.

That was when he heard a noise. No much of a noise really, kind of a light shuffling sound, coming from what he thought might be the attic. "Probably just raccoons or squirrels, or something. Guess I better check it out anyway." he said that out loud to himself too.

Making his way back to the master bedroom, he pulled down the stairs that led to the attic. Flipping on his flashlight, he made his way up the stairs, very slowly. He didn't want some animal jumping out at him, biting him and giving him rabies, and he definitely didn't want to fall off the stairs. When his upper body was up the stairs enough for him to survey the whole attic, he started swinging his flashlight around to take a good look. He heard another rustling from the corner behind him. Swinging his flashlight wide right, he stopped dead when the beam landed on a set of eyes. They were definitely not animal eyes either. They were deep brown, almost black in the poor lighting. They had a bewitching quality to them, and Dean couldn't help but gaze into them. They were the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. That was when he heard the voice in his head. Sam's voice, reminding him not to look her in the eye. Too late, already done. He was hooked. Guess he should have really been listening to Sam on the way here.

"Forget what you have seen until the moon is high tonight, then return to me. I will be waiting here or you." She spoke to him, knowing that someone else was near, someone dangerous. Then, she disappeared from Dean's line of sight.

Dean shook his head, trying to get the cobwebs out. He felt like he'd just fallen asleep on his feet. He almost jumped out of his skin when Sam called up to him from the bottom of the attic stairs.

"You find anything up there?"

"Nothing up here, what about you?"

"Whole lotta nothing' down there too. Basement seems to be a local party spot, but that's about it. Should we check out the barn?"

"Yeah, let's go check out the barn. Then I'm going back to the motel for a nap. This place so far is a bust. And a nap sounds soooo like a good idea."