Sam closed the shop door, sighing in frustration at the fact that the fifth lead in a row turned up a complete and total blank. Someone's story puts the old house halfway out of town, some said that its been demolished, others say its at the next town over. He opted to call Dean, see if he had any better luck.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Hey, its me. You get anything?" Dean sighed a bit. "No. No one can seem to agree on it. We should chase each angle." Sam replied quickly. "I haven't been back to the library yet, see if the librarian has those other deeds and files pulled today. You get started on that, and ill see if they've got anything to narrow it down. Talk to you later." "Stop somewhere and get food for later." Then Dean hung up, and Sam just sighed, then headed to the library. This could shape up to be a very long and boring day.

--Three Hours Later--

Sam finally left the library, his satchel now loaded with files about the Wilkins family. He actually ended up stopping at a diner for some quick food, and met his brother at a quiet, empty lot.

"Did you get the-"

"Yeah, yeah, here." He placed the styrofoam container on the hood, and took out the file. "This place is where the old general store was. So, if the logistics were how they were supposed to be, maybe a half mile that way -" He pointed off towards the cluster of trees off to the west. "Should be the Wilkins house." Dean nodded. "Let's go then." The pair of them got in and headed up the gentle incline, not even really a hill. Once they got to the treeline a minute or two later and got out of the Impala, it only took a moment for them to scan the trees and see it: a rotting, overgrown shell of what was once a very nice home. the shutters hung on by vines that had moved in, some of which lay on the porch roof, some on the ground around, others lost to time entirely. After a long time of studying the exterior from afar, Sam looked at his brother and said, "That's it. The Wilkins house." Dean looked back and replied, "I thought it was the bordello they just reopened." With that sarcasm that was so uniquely Dean. Sam scoffed, taking out his flashlight and stepping into the underbrush. "Let's go, Dean. It'll be dark soon, and I'd rather like to get a feel of what we're dealing with tonight, rather than waiting." Dean drew his flashlight and handgun out of reflex, approaching what remained of the house just behind his brother. Bits of crumbled stone and rusted metal greeted their feet as they crossed the property line, and were met with a chill. The air around them seemed to just.. go dead. They could hear the wildlife, but none of it was close to thw place, which was one of many signs the pair had learned to just take note of mentally and move forward. The porch they stood on was in surprisingly decent condition, but the old wood groaned and crackled under their weight as they stepped. Dean turned to look at his brother. "Well, no time like the present." As he reached for and opened the door to the shady, unlit foyer of the Wilkins house.