𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗

"Jeez. My allergies are acting up."

"I just opened the door."

"Exactly." Katherine rubs at her nose, flashlight sweeping through the dusty air of John Winchester's lockup. Bloody boot prints track over a devil's trap painted onto the concrete. "No demons allowed."

"That's blood," Dean mutters. She hums in agreement, gaze going back to the floor.

"Trip wire," she chuckles, and scans the walls. "Your dad was even more paranoid than mine." She flashes Sam crazy eyes. "What the fuuuuuck?"

He chuckles and steps over the silver wire. "Two sets of boot tracks. Where's that thing lead to?"

"That skull right in front of your face."

Sam turns to his left where, resting on the middle shelf of a stroage rack, is a shotgun lodged through the eye socket of an animal skull.

Welcoming. Well-hidden. Props to the old man.

"Friend with the buckshot in him kept walking," Dean hums.

"Think it hit him in the face?" Katherine idly wonders. 

"Would like to see that," Dean chirps.

"You think Dad did work in here or somethin?" Sam asks, his gaze sweeping around the unit.

"Livin the high life, as usual."

They find all kinds of junk in that storage unit. Old newspapers, circled articles, skin mags, Sam's soccer division championship trophy that has about five layers of dust on it...

"What in the..."

Katherine holds up a janky excuse of a shot gun. Dean gasps and starts towards her.

"My first sawed-off!" he exclaims, setting his flashlight on the table. Katherine blinks. He smiles sheepishly and takes it from her. "Made it myself."

"That explains a lot."

He grins and elbows her. "Hey. You tellin me you made somethin better than this when you were eleven?"

"Yeah, actually," she chirps. Dean holds the gun close to her face and pumps the handle, sending dust flying towards her. "You ass!" She shoves him into the table. Sam smiles, moving past them, and heads for the back part of the lockup.

The padlock chaining the door shut has been broken.

"Holy shit."

It's an arsenal. Knives, land mines, machetes, shotguns, grenades, ammunition boxes...

"Old marine shit," Katherine mutters, eyes and flashlight scanning the full racks. "None of which they took." 

"Guess they knew what they were after," Dean muses.

"What, if not this?" Katherine swings around, voice trailing off at the end of her question as her eyes land on another storage rack. "Oh."

Dean turns. "What?"

Sam comes up behind Katherine. "What are those symbols?"

"Fucking curse boxes," Katherine scoffs. 

"They're supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right?" Dean asks. "Kinda like Pandora?"

"Yeah, they're built to contain the power of a cursed object," she says. 

"Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch 'a shit," Dean hums to Sam. "Ya know...dangerous, hexed items...fetishes..."