REVIVE ▸ d. winchester [2] ✔

Chapter 8

Dean's POV

"Nothing boys?"

Bobby's voice makes its way through the speaker of the phone in Sam's hand, a soft hum over the roar of the impala's engine.

"No. Another dead end," I say, focusing on the road through my frustration. We are getting no where.

Next to me, Sam pulls the phone closer to him and speaks. "It was the same as last time. Empty house, no sign of any supernatural activity of any sorts. There wouldn't be a hundred-thousand year old artifact there for anything." He pauses, and I can hear his own frustration beginning to come through, but I just stare forward, out into the foggy night. "Bobby- are you sure this is all Gabriel has found? This is the third dead end now."

"I know just about as much as you boys do. You know, when Gabriel said he was our inside man, I thought he would be doing something a little more worthwhile. Wherever he's getting these addresses from, they're worth crap."

"Yeah, we've noticed," I mutter.

Sam runs a hand down his face in exhaustion. "Alright, what's next on the list? Anything look good?" Just from the tone of his voice I could tell Sam was ready to move on with the next case and put this one and the others behind us. They were failures to us, and the clock was ticking. We didn't have much more time for dead ends- we'd already been out here for a week and a half.

"Yeah, hold on." We sit in silence as the shuffling noise of papers comes from the other end of the phone. Through the silence, I hear a small bark, followed by Bobby's muffled hushing. Bobby then says, "down, boy," and sets the phone down.

It only takes a few more moments for Bobby to pick the phone back up again. With a mumble, he says, "That dog is going to drive me crazy. He's not ever going to relax."

Sam glances at me with a look of pity, and I feel my stomach drop at the thoughts running through my own head. The poor dog is looking for Jackie. And she's not coming home.

"He'll be fine," I reassure Bobby quietly.

After an uncomfortable moment, Bobby gets back to the problem at hand. "Alright, I've got some more addresses, which all came from coordinates from Gabriel. And I've got two names."

Figuring we could benefit from a change of pace and take a break from the random addresses, I ask, "What are the names?"

"Tom Carey and Larry Ganem. Tom lives in Lebanon, Kansas with his wife. He's retired, still living at the ripe age of 87. There's not much on him that I could find, but he worked as a philosophy teacher for fifty-some odd years. Larry, on the other hand, may as well not exist."

"Nothing on Larry at all?" Sam asks.

"Nothing," Bobby confirms. "But Gabriel suggested asking Tom about Larry. He said his answer would get you what you needed."

"Alright, we'll do that," I decide, mentally mapping out the quickest route to Lebanon. "Text us the address."

"Will do."

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam says, and after hearing a quick response from the other end, he ends the call and slides his phone back into his pocket.

Staring out into the gloomy night, we both sit in silence, not even the radio playing in the dark. We travel only a few miles down a desolate road, one surrounded by woods, before Sam quietly speaks up.

"You think this one's gonna be something?"

I shake my head and glance over at him for a moment. In the light from the headlights, I can see his tensed face, the casted shadows marking worry on his face.