The Family Business [Supernatural] {1}

10.1 Asylum

Me and my brothers were in a motel room. While Dean was going through Dad's journal, I was setting beside Sam on one of the beds as he spoke in his phone with a man name Caleb, "No, Dad was in California last we heard from him. We just thought . . . He comes to you for 'munitions . . . Maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. Just, call us if you hear anything."

"Thanks." With that he hung up. Dean glanced up at him, "Caleb hasn't heard from him?" He asked. "Nope. And neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim," Sam explain. "What about the journal? Anything leads in there?" I asked.

"No, same as last time I looked. Nothing I can make out . . ." Dean said and then he chuckled, "I love the guy, but I swear, he writes like friggin' Yoda."

"You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person's," Sam suggested. "We've talked about this. Dad's be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail," Dean said. "I don't care anymore," Sam said as Dean's phone rang.

Dean shut the journal and got up from his chair, heading to the other bed where his duffel bag was as Sam continued, "After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean . . . He should've been there, Dean. You said so yourself. You tried to call him and . . . Nothing."

"I know," Dean said as he was going through the bag, "Where the hell is my cellphone?" Sam then said, "You know, he could be dead for all we know." Dean looked at him, "Don't say that! He's not dead! He's -- he's . . ." He didn't knew how to continue as he continued to look for his phone.

"He's what? He's hiding? He's busy?" Sam asked. Dean finally found his phone and flicked it open. "Huh. I don't believe it," He said, quietly. I frowned, "What?" I walked over to him and he showed me a message;

From: Unavailable

Subject:

Meg: 42, -89

9:52

"What is it?" Sam asked. "It's, uh . . . It's a text message. It's coordinates," Dean explained as he sat down on the bed.

Dean was on Sam's laptop, typing. "You think Dad was texting us?" I asked, frowning. "He's given us coordinates before," Dean pointed out. "The man can barely work a toaster, Dean," Sam said. Our older brother looked up, "Guys, it's good news, it means he's okay, or alive at least."

With that, he looked back to the laptop. "Well, was there a number on the caller ID?" Sam asked. "No, it said 'unknown'," I replied. "Well, where do the coordinates point?" He asked, turning back to Dean.

"That's the interesting part. Rockford, Illinois," Dean said. Sam and I exchanged a look before looking back at Dean. "And that's interesting how?" I asked. "I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this," Dean said.

We sat down at both his sides as he said, "This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum."

"Okay, I'm not following. What has this have to do with us?" Sam asked as Dean opened Dad's journal, "Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal. Let's see . . ." Then he fond the right page, "Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths - till last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go."

Sam snorted and got up, placing both his hands on the back of his head as he turned his back to us, "This is a job," He said and he turned back to face us, "Dad wants us to work a job."

"Maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there?" I suggested and Dean nodded in agreement but Sam said, "Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing."

"Who cares," Dean said and then he closed the journal and the laptop. "If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!" He said and got up. "This doesn't strike you as weird? The texting? The coordinates?" Sam asked, looking between me and Dean. "Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'," Dean said.

...................

We made it to the bar where a cop name, Daniel Gunderson, Walter Kelly's partner, was drinking. We climbed out the Impala, outside the bar. "Okay," Sam started, "Dean and I will go and ask the questions, Scar, you'll stay here."

"Wait," I said, stopping my brothers when they were about to walk to the door. "I have an idea," I said with a smirk.

...................

After like, 10 minutes, Dean came back, huffing. "What's up with your brother?" He asked, lending beside me on the car. I frowned. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well, your plan was that Sam will just back up the guy and instead he pushed me away, herd," He said. I shrugged. "I don't know," I said and he scoffed.

And then another 10 minutes, Sam walked out. "Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy," Dean said and I smirked. "I had to sell it, didn't I?" Sam said, throwing his arms up and then walked to the passenger's door, "It's method acting."

"Huh?" Dean asked and I rolled my eyes. "Never mind," Sam said. "What'd you find out from Gunderson?" I asked. "So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him," Sam explained.

"What about at home?" Dean asked. "He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but he was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids," Sam said.

"Alright, so either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him," Dean said. "Right," Sam agreed. "What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?" I asked. "A lot," Sam said.