Chapter Four
Inhaling the warm salty air, Dean grinned to himself. There was nothing better than cruising down a coastline in a sexy car with the windows down and good ole' Zeppelin blaring from the speakers. Much as he loved the hunt, Dean loved more the times when he could drive aimlessly; go wherever the wind seemed to be blowing that day. At the moment, he was pretty darn sure the wind was blowing in the direction of the beach, maybe a bikini or two?
Suddenly, "Barbie Girl" by Aqua began playing loudly from the passenger seat. Dean chuckled to himself and didn't even bother to check the caller ID on his phone. There was only one person he had assigned that ringtone to.
"Yo, Padre," he said as he flipped open his cell.
"Dean," John's voice came clearly over the line. "I've got a job for you."
Dean rolled his eyes, but said, "Alright, Dad. What have ya got?"
"An angry spirit wreaking havoc on the staff of an elementary school."
Dean scoffed. "A simple salt and burn? Dad, seriously."
John huffed out a sound of irritation. "Who else is going to do it, Dean? Just find out who it is, salt and burn the body, and be on your way."
"Yes, sir," Dean replied, deciding it wasn't a good idea to push his father. "So where am I going?"
"Hopewell, New Jersey."
Being that his dad hadn't really given him a lot to go on, Dean began at the library. But there was nothing in any of the local newspapers. Of course, every small town had its urban legends, complete with cheesy web pages, but there was nothing worth a second glance.
He decided to give the librarian a try. He smirked as he glanced over at her. She had long brown hair, bright blue eyes and legs that went on for days. And, her cleavage was a bit distracting. Nope, he decided, definitely not your average librarian.
Dean mentally shook himself as he made his way over to her desk. He was on a case, had to stay focused. She flashed him a dazzling smile.
"Hey, I'm doing a term paper on current events in the area. I was wondering if you've heard of any strange occurrences recently."
She cocked her head to the side and gave him a confused frown. "Strange? Like what?"
Dean sighed inwardly. Okay, so we all can't be smart and good-looking.
"Yeah, strange disturbances. Or, people disappearing?" He glanced out one of the windows. "Cow mutilations."
The girl stared at him for a few seconds, obviously trying to decide whether he was kidding or not. Saving her from wasting anymore brain cells, he flashed a classic Dean Winchester smile.
"That's okay, sweetheart. Thanks anyway." With that, he walked out.
Obviously, he was going to have to go straight to the source of the problem. Hopewell Elementary School was like any other small town elementary school Dean had ever seen. It was a small brick building in the center of the town with a small preschool right next door. The walls inside were painted a sickly green color that reminded Dean of his days in school and the halls were empty. He found the spacious main office easily enough. But he left the school frustrated and annoyed. Either the townspeople paid absolutely no attention to what was happening around them, or his father led him to a dead end. Whichever the case, Dean was pissed.
As he made his way to the Impala, Dean noticed a man and a young boy exiting the preschool. The man was tall with jet black hair and expensive clothing. The boy was small and chubby with blonde hair. Dean found himself oddly mesmerized by the duo and he watched them as they approached. He tried to look inconspicuous while he listened to the little boy talk animatedly.
"And I said to her 'I don't care what you think' and she called me weird so I threw her cookie in the sand."
Dean smiled as he listened. He sounded proud, yet at the same time felt the need to defend himself. Dean glanced up to find them unlocking the doors of the car right next to his.
"Cute kid." He slapped on the most disarming smile he could manage. "Your son?"
The man smiled down at him as he let the boy into the car and proceed to buckle him in. The blonde kid offered him a wide grin through the open window.
"Thanks. And no, he's my friend, Sam's."
Dean sat there staring at the spot where the little boy had sat long after the silver car had pulled away. Sam. It made sense why Dean would be drawn to a randomly little kid in the parking lot of a random school in an equally random town. He reminded Dean so much of Sam at that age. From the round cheeks to the defiant way he explained his side of the cookie-sand incident. It was all just so…Sam.
But, no, it didn't make sense at all. Sam was…God knows where doing…God knows what. He was not in barely-there Hopewell, New Jersey. He just wasn't and he definitely did not have a son!
That was what Dean kept telling himself the entire time he sped back to the library, snatched one of their phonebooks and flipped to the Ws.
Yet there it was: Winchester, Samuel…72 Oak Ave Apt. B-9…(876) 493-0746.
