“So what are you thinking?” Sam asked Dean as they headed round a street corner, because, as stubbornly as Sam had to admit it, he had no clues, and, dare he say it, a little thrown.
Dean seemed to have an idea or so, however. “Well, if we are dealing with multiple possessions, we could have a serious demon problem in town. If it’s the same one, than we could be alright. We could find the sucker and kill it.”
“That’s easy to find out,” Sam answered, and flicked through the papers on causes and times of deaths of the victims. The noise of a hurried flicking of pages was soon followed by a sigh that Dean knew all too well as they reached the car.
“What is it?”
“Tom and Eva’s suicides were about fifteen minutes apart, and happened on opposite ends of town. I’ve never known a demon move that quickly from host to host, so it looks like we are dealing with a multiple possession.”
“And it’s just a matter of time before the next couple’s deaths happen. Friggin’ super,” Dean finished as they climbed back into the Impala and drove back to the motel.
By the time Sam and Dean had returned at the Pinewood Motel, it was around one o’clock, and Dean’s stomach was trying to convey a message to him that it did too often.
“God, I’m hungry,” he began, looking to Sam and raising his eyebrows in expectation.
“Dude, we looked at corpses all morning. How can you be hungry?”
Dean looked taken aback at the question that, in Dean’s eyes, always had the answer of “quite easily”, but bit his tongue and looked at Sam with his best pleading eyes even more.
Sam snorted in disbelief and said, “Fine. We’ll eat in a minute, alright? We’ll dump our stuff in the room, get changed and get something in the restaurant downstairs. Sound like a plan?”
Dean grinned and nodded like a child who’d just received a lollipop from his parents. It was at moments like that when Sam really saw the Dean he knew, not the brave, macho show he put on for everyone else. Of course he was brave, he was, without doubt, the bravest person Sam knew, but there was more to him than what everyone else saw. Sam knew that inside, Dean did care about death, and that he did have his own issues and skeletons in the closet, and he also knew that, somewhere deep in the seemingly impenetrable caverns of his emotions, he truly was scared about going to Hell in May. As the days and weeks seemed to eat away at themselves, Sam felt a growing, deep fear inside him, too. But it wasn’t fear for himself. He was not afraid to admit that he was possibly more terrified for Dean in the next three months than he had been for anyone in his life, himself included. Many a time had the Winchesters faced death in the face, but never before had it stared at them so openly and certainly. And, Sam thought, inescapably. But he didn’t care. He was going to get Dean out of this.
Sam and Dean returned briefly to their room for somewhere to leave their bags and get changed into comfortable clothes, and then went downstairs to the main motel restaurant. It seemed that the term “main” was used quite loosely; the small room must have held about eight to ten tables, and small pictures of beautiful painted American landscapes covered the plain walls. As it was hitting quarter to two in the afternoon by the time the brothers made it down there, they found themselves as the only customers. Dean saw this as no bad thing; at least here their conversations about more than weird things would not be overheard.
They sat beside the window, and quickly leafed through the short menu. Within a few minutes, a member of staff came up to them to take their orders. Sam ordered a chicken salad and Dean a double cheeseburger, and, having waited until the bored waiter sauntered round the corner to the kitchens, began to talk.
“So why would demons be attacking Bennington? I mean, there’s not much going on around here or anything that’s worth taking charge over,” Sam started.
Dean shrugged. “Why do demons attack anywhere, Sam? We know there’s no reason behind their destruction, they’re just sons of bitches who like destruction and death. Do they need a reason?”
Sam thought about this for a minute.
“How did they even get all the way out here in the first place? All the way from the Devil’s gate in Wyoming?”
“And even if they did, why has it taken them so long to start wreaking havoc?”
“Damn it, we need to start getting some of these questions answered. What next?”
“Well, the demon, or demons, who’re doing this obviously aren’t going to pop in and say hi to us, so it looks like we’re going to have to go and find them.”
“Summoning ritual?”
Dean nodded and quickly signalled Sam to shut up as the waiter emerged, carrying a tray with two plates and two glasses of beer. As they thanked the waiter and eyed him as he wandered back to the kitchen, Sam began to eat, chewing thoughtfully on his salad as he wondered what their next step should be. Dean, however, left his meal untouched. Sam noticed, slowed his eating, and stopped.
“What is it?”
“This job.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Elaborate please?”
Dean shook his head. “This job wouldn’t exist if we hadn’t let the Devil’s Gate get opened in the first place. That’s all.”
“We did our best to stop it, and we’re doing our best to reduce it now. Alright?”
Sam could tell that this wasn’t the only nick in the armour that was bothering Dean, but knew his brother better than to dig around for something that he obviously did not want to share with him. Dean took a swig of his beer and began to eat, as if the last minute just hadn’t existed. Sam was used to this behaviour, and did not bring it up again.
“But would just one summoning ritual do the trick? I mean, if it is multiple demons?” Sam asked.
“There’s only one way to find out.”