I've added a bonus of five hundred extra words or so than normal for Father's Day. I added another three hundred words on top of that because it's my friend's birthday the day after Father's Day so that's for her!
Route 666
We went to the local newspaper office to talk to Cassie. Cassie seemed to have a thing for tea because the first thing she did was make us some as we explained where we were on her case. "Thanks." Dean said, taking one of the cups. "So I'm trying to find some link between those killings back in the sixties and what's going on now." And due to this being an average sized town and the time frame and how unjust the system was to certain people, we weren't getting far. "There wasn't a lot about it in the paper." Dean ran a frustrated hand through his short hair.
I took the cup Cassie handed to me. "Not surprising." Cassie was saying. "Probably minimal police work too." Times really had changed in the last forty years and more. "Back then equal justice under the law wasn't too literal around here."
Then my phone started to ring. "It's Sam," I said, putting it on speaker. Sam had gone to the courthouse looking for answers while we used the Internet.
"Ok, the courthouse records show that Mr. and Mrs. Mayor bought an abandoned property." Sam immediately started in on what'd he discovered. "The previous owner was the Dorian family for like, one hundred and fifty years."
"Dorian?" Dean suddenly asked.
I turned to him. "Why, you know that name?" I'd surely couldn't remember it.
Dean didn't answer me, instead turning to Cassie for answers. "Didn't you say the Dorian family used to own this paper?"
I turned to Cassie who nodded. "Along with everything else around here." She explained. "Real pillars of the town."
I turned back to the computer to the page I'd clicked on that just finished pulling up. "I just found Cyrus Dorian." I said, looking at the picture of him.
Dean read over my shoulder, "He vanished in April of '63." Just another mysterious thing that happened in this town decades ago. "The case was investigated but never solved." Not surprising compared to the lack of technology we had today. "It was right around the time the string of murders was going on back then."
Sam said on the phone, "Well I pulled a bunch of papers up on the Dorian place, it musta been in bad shape when the mayor bought."
"Why's that?" Dean asked.
"And hopefully a good explanation for all this." I rubbed at the bridge of my nose.
"The first thing he did was bulldoze the place." Sam said. Damn rich people who had enough money to buy, bulldoze, and build something else on top of it.
"Mayor Todd knocked down the Dorian place?" Dean asked Cassie.
Cassie nodded, "It was a big deal." How was knocking over an old house a big thing? "One of the oldest houses left." Alright then, maybe that would be big news for a town this size. "He made the front page."
"Of course he did." I sighed. What else was this town suppose to write about.
"You got a date?" Dean asked Sam.
Several seconds passed before Sam answered with, "The third of May."
I clicked on a few things before another page pulled up. "Found it."
"Mayor Todd bulldozed the Dorian family home on the third." Dean read over my shoulder. "The first killing was the very next day." Dean and I shared a look. There was no way that this was just a coincidence. I printed out the pages and we left but maybe we shouldn't have.
Cassie went home that night, putting her late night glass of water on her desk. And although she didn't do it, her light flickered, then she heard a vehicle outside and headlights shined through her blinds. Shrieking, Cassie rushed to her room. The first thing she did was grab her phone and called Dean in a mad panic.
At the motel, I was jolted awake after being asleep for an hour. I was in a sleepy daze but somehow found myself soon at Cassie's house with Sam and Dean. I shook the sleep out of me as Sam handed a cup of tea to Cassie, I was sitting in the armchair across from her while Dean sat practically on her lap like some guard dog. Cassie's hands were shaking so hard she was barely able to hold the cup in place. "Maybe you could throw a couple of shots in that."
"Trust me, alcohol isn't going to make this any better." I told her, crossing my legs and tapping my nails on the arm of the chair.
"You didn't see who was driving the truck?" Sam asked.
Cassie shakily shook her head. "It seems to be no one." She took a sip of tea as best she could with viciously shaking hands. "Everything was moving so fast." It usually was when something you didn't expect was happening. "And then it was just gone." She looked to Dean as if seeking answers. "Why didn't it kill us?" Us? More like her, we weren't even here yet when it happened.
"Whoever was controlling the truck wants you afraid first." Dean decided after some thought.
"Mental torture, sometimes more powerful than physical." I mused.
"Mrs. Robinson." Sam suddenly said to the woman that had wondered in sometime during they're arrival. "Cassie said that your husband saw the truck before he died?"
Mrs. Robinson started to shake, making me narrow my eyes. That wasn't the most normal reaction in the world, like she was hiding something. "Mom?" Cassie asked cautiously.
"Oh, Martin was under a lot of stress." Mrs. Robinson tried to play it off. "You can't be sure about what he was seeing."
"Well I'm sure he saw something." I said annoyed. Whatever she was hiding could help us stop more people from being killed.
"What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked." Dean said firmly. "Ok?" He was trying to get her to see how much danger they could truly be in. "Your daughter could die." Mrs. Robinson flinched at that thought. "So if you know something, now would be a really good time to tell us about it."
"Dean," Cassie started to protest, not liking how he was speaking to her mother.
"Sorry, Cass," I interrupted her. "But some things can't be sugar coated."
Mrs. Robinson shakily nodded. "Yes, he said he saw a truck."
"Did he know who it belonged to?" Sam asked.
"He thought he did." She said slowly.
I scowled when she hesitated. "And?" We so, didn't have time for this.
"Who was that?" Dean pushed on.
Mrs. Robinson looked like she was thinking about a past she tried to leave behind. "Cyrus, a man named Cyrus."
Sam, Dean, and I shared a look. "Cyrus Dorian?" I asked to make positive that it was the same Cyrus we'd discovered earlier this day.
Mrs. Robinson tearfully nodded. "Cyrus Dorian died more than forty years ago." Which consists with the killings during that decade. But wait, he was never legally declared dead.
"How do you know he died, Mrs. Robinson?" Dean asked softly. "The paper's said he went missing." Did she know something not even the cops of the day had been able to figure out. "How do you know he died?"
So Mrs. Robinson told the story she'd kept secret all these decades. "We were all very young. I dated Cyrus a while, I was also seeing Martin, in secret of course." So other than keeping a secret, she also cheated. "Inter-racial couples didn't go over too well back then." Thank God we didn't live in that time period, some of my better foster families had been with a black family. "His hatred." I looked up. "His hatred was frightening."
"The murders?" Sam asked cautiously.
Mrs. Robinson looked like she couldn't go on anymore so I leaned forward, putting on my best face of determination. "Please, what you're holding back could save your life and your daughter's."
Mrs. Robinson shakily nodded, "There were rumors." She slowly explained. "People of color disappearing into some kind of truck." And now it was happening all over again decades later. "Nothing was ever done." Of course nobody would care during that time period. "Martin, Martin and I were married in that little church near here but last minute, we decided to elope as we didn't want the attention." The cops back then probably would have put in more of an effort had it been white people disappearing instead of blacks.
"And Cyrus?" Dean asked.
Mrs. Robinson burst into heavy tears. "The day we set for the wedding was the day someone set fire to the church." I shakily remembered the first fire I've ever been in, the fire I had lost my mother to. "There was a children's choir practicing in there." We could barely understand because of her crying. "They all died."
"All of them?" I whispered. It was a horrible day when a child was killed yet along a whole group of them.
"Did the attack as top after that?" Sam asked softly.
"No!" Mrs. Robinson shrieked, crying into her hands. "There was one more." I straightened up curiously. "One night that truck came for Martin." Of course it would. "Cyrus beat him something terrible." Well that's what most people did when finding out they were being cheated on, even if they were cheating themselves. "But Martin, Martin got loose." And Martin would have been arrested for defending himself just because he was black instead of the white Cyrus who jumped him in the first place. "And he just kept hitting him and hitting him."
"Why didn't you call the cops?" Dean asked.
"They could have helped with something like this." I briefly forgot which time period this was taken place in.
Mrs. Robinson started to cry heavier. "This was forty years ago!" Right, nobody cared about the black people then. "He called on his friends Clayton Soames and Jimmy Anderson, and they put Cyrus' body into the truck and they rolled it into the swamp at the end of his land and all three of them kept that secret all these years."
"And now all three are gone." Sam said what they had all realized.
"But what about Mayor Todd?" I asked. I didn't see how he was part of all this and yet he was still killed by this rabid truck.
"Now he said that you of all people would know he is not a racist." Dean said to Mrs. Robinson before turning demanding. "Why would he say that?"
"He was a good man." Mrs. Robinson defended him shakily. "He was a young deputy back then investigating Cyrus' disappearance." But no one was ever arrested for Cyrus's going missing. "Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done he, he did nothing because he also knew what Cyrus had done." It was nice to know that some people weren't against blacks during that time just because of the skin color they were born with.
Cassie had calmed down significantly during her mother's story. "Why didn't you tell me?" Cassie demanded, looking betrayed about how she didn't know such an important part of her mother's past.
"I thought I was protecting them." Mrs. Robinson wailed, still crying desperately. "And now there's no one left to protect." And that was the end of that conversation.
It was late at night when me and my brothers met at the impala outside Cassie's house. "Well this is fun." I muttered sarcastically, hopping on the hood. We were on a look out in case the truck came back.
"My life was so simple." Sam mourned his old life. "Just school, exams, papers on poly centric cultural norms." He leaned against the impala beside me.
"So what you're saying is we saved you from a boring existence." Dean said, briefly stopping his pacing in front of us.
"Yeah," Sam chuckled a little. "Occasionally I miss boring."
"I don't." I said, leaning against the windshield and putting my arms behind my head, legs crossed at the ankles. "Then again, I can't exactly remember a time when I had normally and completely ordinary boring."
"So this killer truck," Dean trailed off.
Sam interrupted of course. "I miss conversations that didn't start with 'this killer truck'."
I grinned a little as Dean chuckled. "Sorry Sammy boy, this is just our life. Hopefully we'd never here 'killer truck' again after all this is over."
"Well this Cyrus guy." Dean said still grinning a little. "Evil on a level that infected even his truck." Damn, you had to be something else to connect to your truck after your death. "When he died, the swamp became his tomb and his spirit was dormant for forty years."
"So what woke it up?" Dean asked.
"Nothing good." I muttered, thinking on different factors that could wake up a spirit.
Dean was the first to realize what it was. "The construction on his house." I sat up at this realization. "Or the destruction."
"Right." Sam agreed. "Demolition or remodeling can awaken spirits, make them restless."
"There's nothing else going around here that would have anything to do with Cyrus Dorion." I said, swinging my legs to the side of the car.
"Like that theatre in Illinois, ya know?" Sam said. I looked at him curious, wondering what that one was about.
"And the guy that tore down the family homestead, Harold Todd, is the same guy that kept Cyrus' murder quiet and unsolved." Dean said.
"So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood." Said Sam.
I started kicking my legs back and forth like a small child would. "I'd be pretty pissed if I was murdered and my murderers went free." But knowing our lives, I'd probably be striker down by a werewolf sooner than a normal person killing me.
"Yeah, I guess." Dean muttered, feeling his stomach churn at the thought of her demise. "Who knows what ghosts are thinking about."
Sam sighed and said the one thing nobody wanted to hear. "You know we're going to have to dredge that body up from the swamp, right?" Dean smiled at his younger brother and sister.
"Damn," my shoulders dropped. "That just ended whatever good mood I had left.
"You said It." Dean said. That was when Cassie walked outside explaining her mother was asleep. Dean explained how she should stay put but Cassie just smiling cockily saying something about how she hated it when he went all authoritative on her. Sam was grinning and I crossed my arms.
"Ok, can we go now?" I said loudly when Dean and Cassie started making out right in front of them.
It took several long minutes before Sam and I managed to pry Dean away from Cassie. It took a shorter time driving up the the Dorion house. "A little more." Sam called.
"Almost there." I said from the edge of the swamp. Dean had eased a tractor he stole from the neighbors to the swamp so we could pull out the truck.
And then Sam started the teasing the big brother by saying, "You're still in love with her."
"Can we focus please." Dean said, not looking up from where he was digging through the impala trunk.
"I'm with him." I jabbed my thumb at Dean. I could go my entire life and be happy without hearing about Dean and his love life.
"I'm just saying." Sam said.
"Hold that." Dean interrupted. He shoved a gas can into Sammy's arms and the flashlight into mine before slamming the door. Looking at each other, we headed to the swamp covered truck we've just pulled out from the moss.
Dean was the one to open the door and I jumped back repulsed. A decaying decades old body fell to the ground at our feet. The smell alone was enough to churn my stomach. Sam poured gas onto the body while I dumped the salt. Then Dean set him on fire. We stood around the body watching it burn to dust. "So are we done here?" I asked hopeful. Honestly, the best part about this whole visit to town was that brief date with Derek.
"I hope so." Sam said. Of course it didn't work so well. Headlights from the ghost truck suddenly washed over us.
"I guess not." Dean said as we stared out, glaring into the headlights blinding us.
Still staring frozen at the headlights, "So burning the body had no effect on that thing?" Sam demanded in disbelief.
"Which means we dug this truck out for nothing?" I said pissed. What a waste of time.
"Now we pissed it off." Dean said, stepping away.
"But Cyrus' ghost is gone, right?" Sam asked confused.
"Well we did burn the body." I shrugged just as equally confused.
"Apparently not the part that's fused with the truck." Dean said, reaching the impala.
"Hey!" I wailed, seeing him trying to leave.
"Where you going?" Sam demanded, thinking he was leaving them behind with the ghost truck.
"Going for a little ride." Dean said, yanking open the car door. I looked at him in disbelief, trying not to panic. "Gonna lead that thing away." He put one leg in the car. "You two burn that busted piece of crap." He pointed at the truck we pulled out the swamp.
"Are you kidding me?" I demanded, looking at the mess of a truck.
"How the hell are we supposed to burn a truck, Dean?" Sam demanded.
Dean shrugged. "I don't know, figure something out." Sam barely caught the bag Dean threw to us.
"You can't be serious." I protested but Dean had already slammed the door and taking off into the darkness. The ghost truck flew past us chasing after Dean. My jaw dropped a little as the car chase started until we could no longer see them. It took several minutes of planning before we worked on what we were going to do.
Sam's phone rung. "Hey, you gotta give me a minute." Sam answered Dean.
"I don't have a minute!" Dean yelled, sounding panicked. "What are we doing."
I took the phone. "Sorry Dean, we'll call you back." I quickly hung up.
Sam took the phone back and called Cassie. "I need some information and it has to be exactly right."
I used my phone to call Dean while Sam got the information from Dean. "I need you to tell me exactly where you are." I said firmly, putting the phone on speaker.
"In the middle of nowhere with a killer truck on my ass!" Dean screamed madly. "It's like it knows I put the torch to Cyrus."
"It's important, just tell us where you are!" Sam said impatiently.
It was several seconds before Dean finally answered as he spotted a road sign. "Decatur Road, about two miles off the highway."
"Here it is." I pointed it out on where we had a town map spread out between us.
"Heading east?" Sam asked. My heart pounded in my ribs when I heard the squeal of tires as the impala was hit from behind.
"You son of a bitch!" Dean was shouting at the truck as he sped up. It relaxes me only a little because if he was shouting pissed, that mean he was alright.
"Turn right!" Sam commanded, following the line I made in marker over the road to where Dean needed to go.
Dean swerved, speeding down the small dirt road he'd gone down. "You need to move this thing along a little faster!" Dean shouted impatiently.
"You should be coming up a small road just ahead." I warned, making another line down it on the map towards the destination we were sending him.
"No!" Dean screamed and then paused. "Wait, yes, I see it!" Dean swerved down it. Since he turned so suddenly, the truck chasing him went flying straight passed the road. "Now what?"
Sam answered this time. "You need to go seven tenths of a mile and then stop."
"Stop?" Dean asked conflicted. He felt the passing need to try out driving the truck but he also trusted his brother and sister. This would
"It has to be exactly seven tenths. Trust us on this one." I said firmly, hoping we weren't making a huge mistake and about to get Dean killed
At exactly seven tenths, Dean slammed on his breaks, spinning the the car around so he was facing where the ghost truck was speeding straight towards him. The ghost truck pulled to a stop several feel in front of him. "It's just staring at me, what do I do?" Dean asked over the phone.
"Just what you are doing." Sam said.
"You're bringing it to you." I finished.
Dean couldn't answer. That was because the truck suddenly sped back towards him. He squeezed his eyes shut, a death grip on his steering wheels. There was a rush of air as the truck flew right through his car, turning to dust on contact and disappearing forever. Dean hesitantly opened his eyes only to realize the truck was gone. He slowly raised the phone back to his ear, eyes wide in disbelief. "Where'd it go?"
"It went where it can't come back." I grinned, visibly relieved that our plan had actually worked.
"Dean, you're where the church was." Sam tried explaining.
"What church?" Dean demanded, having forgotten which church or what that meant.
"Remember, the one Mrs. Robinson said Cyrus burned to the ground." I told him. "The fire that killed all those kids."
"Church ground is hallowed ground, weather the church is still there or not." Sam explained, it was hard enough figuring that out with the short amount of time they had. "Evil spirits cross over hallowed ground, sometimes they're destroyed, so I figured, maybe that would get rid of it."
"Maybe?!" Dean shouted loud enough to make me wince. "What if you were wrong?"
Sam and I shared a look if curiosity. "Well to be honest Dean-O, I don't think either of us even thought of that possibility."
Dean stared at the phone in disbelief before hanging up. "I don't think either of us even thought of that possibility." Dean mocked in a high pitch poor imitation of his sister's voice as he got back on the road. "I'm gonna kill her, and then him, and then her again. Bring them both back, only to do it all over again."
The next day at the dock, "Do we really have to watch them saying goodbye." I grumbled from the back seat. Sam was behind the wheel watching them closely. This had been going on for at least five minutes.
"He never gets close to anyone. Let him have his moment." Sam said grinning. Then Dean and Cassie kissed before Dean climbed into the impala. Then we were off, leaving this town behind.
We were on a road in the middle of the country several hours later. Then Sam brought up the conversation he'd been holding back till they were far away from town. "I like her."
"You like everybody." I muttered, dropping my head against the seat behind me.
"You meet someone like her, doesn't it make you wonder if it's worth it?" Sam asked us both. My mind briefly flickered to Derek. "Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do?" My cheeks turned a light pink unwillingly, something that hadn't happen to me over a boy since I was a teenager.
Dean looked at Sam, then over his shoulder to me. He started to smile, grabbing a pair of sunglasses from somewhere in the front seat. He slid them onto his nose and over his eyes. "Why don't you wake me when it's my turn to drive?" Then he slouched down in his seat crossing his arms to sleep.
I leaned forward. "When can I drive?"
"Never." Both boys said. I flopped back into my seat with a pout crossing my arms.
Back in the town they just left, Derek stopped knocking on the door. He tried getting a glimpse inside through the curtain covered windows. "I guess she already left." Derek muttered, slowly walking back to his room dishearted, hands tucked into his pockets.
Several weeks later, something was happening in the dead of night. It was one of those white picket fence looking neighborhood's, the pure Apple pie life as some would say. A man was the only one awake at this hour, just getting home from his latest tryst at a local bar on the edge of town. The man drove into his garage, turning off his car. He reached for the remote he had to close the door behind him. He never reached it before the door was already closing. He looked at it confused. He didn't get much of a chance to think about it though because there was a sudden echo of clicks as all four of his car doors suddenly locked themselves. Then the engine started again and exhaust started to fill the garage and therefore, the car. The man struggled trying to turn it off but when that wouldn't work, he tried to open the door to get out. But he was trapped in the car. "Help! Somebody help me!" He begged, ramming his shoulder into the car door. But nobody could hear him and the smoke gathering around him was to much. He fell against the door, eyes fluttering close as he lost consciousness. By the time morning would come and his second wife would discover him with a scream, it'd be to late.
He would be long since dead.
Several miles away, I was sleeping in one of the motel beds, this time sprawled across half on Dean, a leg falling off the bed. I was in that state where I was drifting in and out of sleep, being aware and yet completely unaware all at the same time. It took several moments before I realized what had semi-awoken me in the first place. I was woken up because somebody, Sam I soon realized, was calling our names, already packing up our stuff. I tiredly rubbed at my eyes, "If it's the police again, I'm innocent." I muttered, still in a half dazed. A few times I was woken up early at the apartment I shared with Brooklyn because the police showed up at our door looking for me.
"It's not the police, come on!" I was jolted awake, rolling off the bed as Sam shook my shoulder.
Dean sat up slightly, woken up after all the commotion. "What are you doing man, it's in the middle of the night." He grumbled same as me.
"We have to go." Sam said, tossing a couple bags on to his empty bed all packed and ready to go.
I sat straight up, just now hearing the urgency in his voice. "What's going on?" I glanced around thinking we were about to be attacked at any minute.
"What's happening?" Dean half sat up, looking alert as I was panicked.
"We have to go, right now." Sam said, grabbing a bag and already heading out of the motel room. Several minutes later, we were leaving town. I was eating another sucker as to wake me up while Dean drove and Sam talked on the phone. "McReady, Detective McReady. Badge number 158. I've got a signal four eighty in process." Sam easily lied over the phone. "I need the registered owner of a two door Sedan, Michigan license plate Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven." He paused. "Yeah, just hurry."
"Sammy relax, I'm sure it's just a nightmare." Dean insisted.
I pulled the sucker out my mouth. "I've done told him that five times in the last ten minutes or so we've been driving."
"It has to be just a normal, everyday, naked in class nightmare." He tapped the steering wheel with a free hand. "The license plate, it won't check out." I tossed the sucker stick I just finished out the window. "You'll see."
"It felt different." Sam said looking like he didn't have a doubt. "Real." I looked at him concerned. "Like when I dreamt about our old house." I glanced around. "And Jessica."
"But you know all these things." I protested confused.
"What she said." Dean agreed. "You're dreaming about our house, your girlfriend." Everything Sam knew. "The guy in your dream, you ever seen him before.
"...No," Sam admitted, glancing out the window.
"Exactly, why would you have premonitions about some random dude in Michigan." Dean tried to make Sam see sense.
"It makes no sense." I said, playing with my nails in the backseat.
Sam shook his head desperately. "I don't know." He muttered.
"Me neither." Dean agreed.
"Well that makes three of us." I said quietly.
Sam went back to his phone conversation. "Yeah, I'm here." Sam pulled out a piece of paper and pen kept in the glove compartment. "Jim Miller." I sat up straighter. "Saginaw, Michigan." Shit. "You have a street address?" So Sam really did dream about someone dying miles away from where we were. "Got it." And apparently no connected to us at all. "Thanks." Sam hung up. "Checks out." I ran a tired, yet frustrated hand through my hair. "How far are we?"
"Fran Saginaw?" Dean thought for a moment. "Couple hours."
Sam looked straight ahead, swallowing hard. "Drive faster." He said quietly.
"Without killing us." I said quickly as he sped up. We fought demons for a living. It'll suck if we died from a car crash.
We pulled to a stop several hours later and that was only because we couldn't go any further. All we needed was the street address, not the actual house address. The street was overcrowded in front of one house in the center of the town. There were ambulances and police men going about they're job. One of the men was zipping up a body bag on a stretcher. I bit my lip nervously, how did Sam know? Dean looked concerned and Sam was clearly upset that they hadn't been able to stop it after all.
Sam was to distraught that they couldn't help so he stayed in the car. Dean and I split up to discover what just happened in that house. I stepped up behind a woman after pushing myself to the ground of the crowd, now standing in front of the yellow 'do not enter' tape stretched across the property. "Excuse me, miss," I grabbed her attention. "Sorry to bother you. I'm new in town, would you happen to know what happened here?"
The woman looked like a jogger, wearing the tank top and sweat pants. A music player clicked to the elastic waistline and one of those devices strapped to her arm that monitored your heart race. "Suicide." She explained, shaking her head sorrowful with crossed arms over her chest. "I just can't believe he did this."
"So...you knew the guy?" I asked cautiously, tucking my hands into my jean pockets. "The one that...died?"
The woman shakily nodded. "I jog every morning. I would wave hello to the family every time I passed, stop for a few minutes to chat while he was getting the morning newspaper." She sighed. "I guess you never know what's going on behind closed doors."
The body bag was carried past us. "I guess not." I muttered. There was a crying woman on the doorstep, being held up by a man and a boy just out of his teens stood slightly behind them, looking grim.
Dean and I met at the impala where Sam was waiting, just climbing out as he saw them arrive. "We got here as fast as we could."
"Not fast enough." Sam said sullenly. "It doesn't make any sense." None of this had made sense so far. "Why would I even have these premonitions it there wasn't a chance I could stop them from happening?" He looked so lost, it was heartbreaking.
"I dunno." Dean said quietly. For the first time in his life, he didn't know how to help him little brother.
I patted his shoulder, trying to be comforting. "But we'll figure it out, I know we will."
Sam sighed and shook his head. "So what do you think killed him?"
Dean shrugged. "Maybe the guy just killed himself." That would be to far fetched in our supernatural filled life. "Maybe there's nothing supernatural going on at all."
"Not everything in the world is supernaturally involved." I suggested.
Sam shook his head in denial. "I'm telling you, I watched it happen." He said firmly. "He was murdered by something." Just the look in his eyes told you he was completely serious about what he thought. "I watched it trap him in the garage." I shivered at the thought, my greatest fear. I was claustrophobic. I was okay in a locked room as long as I could unlock the door. If someone had locked me in or I couldn't get out was when I started freaking out.
"What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, what?" Dean demanded, wanting to know exactly what they were supposed to be looking for.
"With your dream, it seems like the only hint we have to go off of." I explained. Everybody in the crowd seemed to shocked and freaked out. We could always try the family. Like that lady said, you just didn't know what happened behind closed doors.
"I don't know what it was!" Sam said loudly, looking frustrated beyond belief, helpless. "I don't know why I'm having these dreams, I don't know why the hell this is happening!" He looked up at us, seeking answers that neither of us had. "What?" He demanded when we said nothing.
Dean shrugged all innocent. "Nothing, I'm just...I'm worried about you." For Dean to admit his feelings was shocking, it was usually like pulling teeth.
"We both are." I admitted quietly, looking down at my lap.
"Well don't look at me like that!" Sam shouted desperately. I flinched back, not used to Sammy actually screaming.
Dean quickly looked away. "I'm not looking at you like anything." Then he glanced back. "Though I gotta say, you do look like crap.
I took a closer look at Sam. "He isn't wrong." I muttered. It was hard not to see the flushed face and darting eyes. Sam scowled at us both.
Dean moved around us, pausing to open the car door. "Come on, let's just pick this up in the morning." Dean said. "We'll check out the house, talk to the family." Sam didn't know what it was in his dreams and the neighbors weren't any help so checking the family was the next place to go.
I moved to my door, Sam following on my side of the car. "We all saw them, they're devastated." He wasn't wrong about that, I remembered the woman crying and the man barely holding her up. "They're not going to want to talk to us."
"So who will they talk to?" I asked, opening my door.
Dean smirked. "I think I know." Sam and I looked at each other uneasy.