Dean looked at his younger brother, shocked.
"You're giving up?"
Sam stood beneath the glaring desert sun, sand and defeat mixing a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. It could be hazardous pulling Dean out of a hunt before he was ready to call it quits, and he himself hated to admit they were done, but they just didn't have the intel they needed to grapple with this creature.
"I don't think we can beat this one, Dean. We've tried everything."
"Shut up and keep looking. Maybe dad--"
"I dont think the journal's going to help us out with this one."
Sam looked down the road again. The horizon was blurred by heat and haze, but in the distance he could see the dust rising.
"And we should get out of here soon, it's coming back this way."
"No. We have to kill that thing." A muscle in Dean's jaw twitched and he shuddered. "That sound, man... That SOUND is driving me crazy!"
The creature sped past them for perhaps the hundredth time that day, sand and weeds kicked up like a small whirlwind in it's wake. Sam put up a hand to shield himself from the flying debris, barely catching a glimpse of the thing as it blurred past them.
"Meep meep!"
"That's it!" Dean shouted, heading for the trunk. His face was flushed with heat and anger as he tore through their arsenal. "Where's the dynamite?"