CHAPTER 2

MORGUE

As soon as they arrived to Willowbrook, they got to work. After checking into a small hotel in the center of town, they headed to the local police station, introducing themselves as Agents Bruce and Nolan. Flashing their fake badges, they gained access to copies of the ongoing investigation files. Sheriff John Harris couldn't offer them more than what they already knew. The victims shared no connections; all three were considered upstanding citizens, well-known and respected in the town. There were no witnesses who had seen anyone suspicious near the vics or during the time of the murders. The culprit seemed to be working like a ghost.

Later that evening, they drove to the morgue in a neighboring town since Willowbrook didn't have one—nobody had ever imagined the quiet town would need it.

They were greeted by a hunched-over doctor with a wild shock of gray hair. The Winchesters expected the usual grumbling about the late hour, but Dr. Will Beetle was surprisingly accommodating.

"I'm glad this has caught the attention of the higher authorities," he said as he led the agents to the morgue, where the bodies had already undergone autopsies. "I live in Willowbrook, so this case hits close to home."

"Did you know any of the victims personally?" Sam asked, seizing the opportunity of Beetle's rare talkativeness. After all, their usual "patients" weren't very chatty.

Beetle nodded, holding the door open for the agents as they entered the morgue.

"Yes, I was good friends with Sergeant Michael. We worked together for many years."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sam said with a sympathetic nod.

"That's why I hope you catch this psycho soon. Which one would you like to see first?"

"Let's start with the first victim," Dean said as they approached the wall of refrigerated drawers.

Beetle opened the lowest drawer, and the Winchesters leaned over the first body. The face drew their immediate attention—hollow, charred eye sockets stared into nothingness.

"Anything stand out to you?" Dean asked, inspecting the body closer.

"Other than what's in my report? Not much. The only odd detail was sulfur under the victims' fingernails and a strong sulfuric smell during the autopsies. I figured the killer must have used some tool coated in it. Aside from that, there wasn't anything unusual... well, nothing aside from the obvious."

Dean slowly straightened up, exchanging a meaningful glance with Sam. He gestured for Beetle to open the next two drawers.

"This one's the nurse, and over here we have poor Michael. Same pattern—eyes burned out, limbs seared, organs melted from extreme heat. No signs of struggle."

"Could we get copies of your autopsy reports?" Sam asked.

"Of course, I'll be right back."

As soon as Beetle left the room, Dean voiced what he couldn't say in front of the pathologist.

"Great. We've got three demons on the slab."

Sam bent over one of the bodies, inspecting it closely. There were no other burn marks or injuries, just the hollowed-out eyes.

"Something doesn't add up," Sam muttered. "Who else could have taken out these demons, if not us?"

Dean shrugged. "Another hunter?"

"And just left the bodies for the cops to find? And if this is a demon thing, what exactly drew them all here? There's no other major incident."

Dean nodded. "I'll call around when we get back to the motel, see if any hunters in the area know something."

"And check in with Garth too. He's been coordinating hunts, so maybe he's heard of something."

"Good point."

Sam couldn't help but notice that Dean was warming up to the idea of Garth stepping into Bobby's shoes. It wasn't easy to replace the old man, but Garth was making his way, odd as he was.

A few minutes later, Beetle returned with copies of the autopsy reports and handed them to Sam, who skimmed through them.

"Any leads on who might've done this?" Beetle asked.

"It's too early to say," Sam replied, passing the reports to Dean. "But I've heard some talk about a curse affecting Willowbrook. Have you heard anything about that?"

Beetle chuckled nervously.

"Just old folks' gossip. You don't seriously believe that, do you?"

"Every lead helps us get closer to the truth. Have you noticed anything unusual happening around town recently?"

Beetle's smile faded, and under Sam's piercing gaze. He cleared his throat and responded more seriously.

"Willowbrook's been peaceful for decades—nothing more than the occasional spat between neighbors. Then, about six months ago, something terrible happened." Dean stopped flipping through the reports and gave Beetle his full attention. "The whole town was involved in the search for Estelle Sullivan. She's a young nurse, not even thirty. One day, she just vanished without a trace. No one knew what had happened to her, and after weeks of searching, people lost hope."

"Was she ever found?" Sam asked, his brow furrowing.

"Yes, thankfully. But it was... strange. One day, she just showed up at her parents' doorstep, barely alive and covered in blood. People say she hasn't been the same since. Supposedly, she has amnesia," Beetle added in a hushed tone, as if the word itself was too heavy to say aloud.

"Amnesia?"

"Can you imagine that? The girl must have gone through such hell that her own mind is blocking the memories, something terrible, truly terrible!" The doctor shook his head, lamenting the girl's fate. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, that's all, thank you," Sam said, handing the man his card. "We'll be in touch."

"What do you make of it?" Dean asked as he opened two bottles of beer, handing one to Sam. They had returned to the motel in Willowbrook, but instead of crashing into bed, they were diving deeper into the case.

"The more I read, the less I understand," Sam said, rubbing his temples. "Did you call the other hunters?"

"Yup, none of them have even heard of a place like Willowbrook, let alone three demons in one town. I even checked in with Garth; he hasn't sent any hunters here recently either."

Sam leaned back in his chair, massaging the tension in his neck from hours spent hunched over the reports. He took a long swig of beer and sighed.

"Alright, let's sum up what we know so far. All three 'victims' weren't really victims—they were probably hunting someone. Three demons in a small town, all dead within a few weeks of each other. And no common link between them."

Dean threw himself onto the bed, draining nearly half his beer in one gulp.

"Did you find anything useful in the police reports?"

Sam snorted. "Do I look like I'm two people?" He tossed the reports to Dean and stood. "Here, make yourself useful," he muttered on his way to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Dean rolled his eyes and settled more comfortably on the bed. He turned on the bedside lamp and spread the documents in front of him. By the time Sam returned from his shower a few minutes later, Dean was still hunched over the paperwork, his brow furrowed like a freshly plowed field. He had moved to the table, now cluttered with papers. Sam didn't even have a chance to speak.

"In the morning, we're going to talk to the witnesses who found the bodies," Dean said, his eyes scanning the contents of the laptop screen. "The reports are just bare-bones information, so I didn't bother digging into them. But I did find more on Sullivan."

Sam raised an eyebrow and pulled up a chair.

"That missing girl?"

"Yup. I read more about her disappearance, and you know what? Three days after her miraculous return, the first demon was killed."

"Coincidence?" Sam asked, though his tone hinted at doubt.

Dean looked up, meeting his brother's gaze. "The locals said her disappearance kicked off a string of weird events in this sleepy town."

Sam exhaled slowly. "That doesn't sound like a coincidence."

"Especially when you consider that nothing happened while she was gone."

"Everything started only after she came back. Hmm." Sam rubbed his forehead, piecing together the puzzle. "Witch?"

"That was my first thought. Tomorrow, we'll check the crime scenes for any hoodoo signs. And we'll pay Sullivan a visit."

"Under what pretense?"

Dean slid the report of the nurse's body across the table.

"Sullivan was the one who found one of the bodies."

"If she was responsible for the murders, it wouldn't be too smart to report finding one of them."

Dean shrugged, gathering up the scattered papers. Meanwhile, Sam pulled the laptop toward him and opened the latest article on Estelle Sullivan. The story included two photos—one taken before she disappeared and one after she was found. A chill ran down Sam's spine as the drastic difference hit him.

Before, she had vibrant auburn hair, dark eyes, and a warm smile that accentuated the dimples in her cheeks. Now, she was a shadow of herself. In the recent photo, taken from a distance, the light in her eyes was completely gone. Her entire posture screamed of the horror she had endured. One thought crossed Sam's mind.

"I feel sorry for that girl when the barrier in her mind breaks and she remembers everything she went through."

Dean froze mid-step. He didn't need to ask what Sam was referring to; he knew exactly what he meant.

"How cn you be sure she'll ever remember?" Dean muttered, his back still turned to Sam.

"Because those barriers always break. Some on their own, others with a little help."

"That's not our problem," Dean said curtly. "If she's a witch, we might even be doing her a favor."

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Sam admitted.

Dean strode back to the table and slammed the laptop shut with a sharp motion.

"Stop overthinking it," Dean snapped, cutting off any further discussion about Sam's own experiences with mental trauma. "We'll see what we find tomorrow, and then we'll deal with it."