Sam and I were walking across a city square toward Dean, sitting on a bench and talking on his phone. "Yep. I got it. Okay, bye." He hangs up and in one motion picks up and throws an unopened can of soda to Sam then me, standing up and shoving the last of the food he is eating into his mouth. "So?" He asked us, as he chew his food.
"So, the professor doesn't know crap." Sam replied. "Shocking. Pack your panties, guys, we're hitting the road." Dean said, walking around us. "What?" Sam asked, confused. "What's up?" I asked, turning to face him.
"That was Bobby. Some banker guy blew his head off in Ohio and he thinks there's a spirit involved." Dean said. "So you two were talking a case?" Sam asked. "No, we were actually talking about our feelings. And then our favourite boy bands. Yeah, we were talking a case!" Dean replied, sarcastically.
"So a spirit, what?" I asked. "Yeah, the banker was talking about some sort of electrical problems at his pad for like a week. Phone was going haywire, computer was flipping on and off." Dean explained. "Huh..." Sam muttered, unimpressed.
"This is not ringing your bell?" Dean asked him. "Well, sure, yeah. But, Dean, we're already on a case." Sam said. "Whose?" Dean asked. "Yours and (Name's)." Sam replied.
"Right. Yeah. Well, you coulda fooled me." Dean grumbled. "What the hell else have we been doing lately other than trying to break the deal?" Sam asked. "Well, we haven't exactly been getting anywhere." I said, shrugging.
"She's right, we're chasing our tails. Sam, we've talked to every professor, witch, soothsayer and two bit carny act in the lower 48. Nobody knows squat! And we can't find Bela, we can't find the Colt. So until we actually find something, I'd like to do my job." Dean exclaimed.
"Well there's one thing we haven't tried yet..." Sam said and I shook my head. "Sam, no." I said. "We should summon Ruby." He said. "We're not gunna have this fight with you." Dean grumbled.
"She said she knows how to save both of you." Sam said, hopeful. "Well, she can't." Dean said. "Oh really, you know that for sure?" Sam asked. "I do." Dean replied. "How?" He asked. "Because she told us, okay!" I exclaimed and Sam looks at me shocked. "What?" He asked, quietly.
"She told us. Flat out. She can't save us, nobody can." Dean said. "And you both just somehow neglected to mention this to me?" Sam asked, hurt. "Well, I really don't care what that bitch thinks and neither should you, so..." Dean said.
"So what, now you guys are keeping secrets from me?" Sam asked, looking between Dean and I. "Sam..." I started to say but Dean talk over me. "You really wanna talk about who's keeping secrets from who?" He sneered.
They stare at each other in silence for a long moment. Sam then moves around Dean and starts walking away. "Now where you going?" I asked. "Guess I'm going to Ohio." Sam replied, turning around to face us as he kept walking backwards. He turn back and kept walking, tossing the soda Dean gave him in the trash.
We made it to Ohio and turn into the driveway of the house where Ben died. We spoke with his wife, who led us to his study. "I found him there." She said, pointing towards the room. "Why don't you tell us everything you saw, Mrs Waters." I said. "You mean beside my dead husband?" She asked, slightly irritated.
"Just everything else you saw. Please." Sam said and she sighs. "Blood. Everywhere. The phone was ripped from the wall, his favourite scotch on the desk, what else could you possibly want to know?" She asked.
"Why was the phone ripped from the wall?" I asked. "I don't know." Mrs. Waters replied. "You mind if I take a look?" Sam asked and she waved her hand, vaguely. "I already went over this with the other detectives." She said, as Sam walk into the office and over to the phone.
"We'll be out of your hair in no time, ma'am." Dean assured her. "Ma'am, what time did your husband die?" Sam asked her and she sighs again. "Sometime after 11." She replied.
Sam waited until both Dean and I look at him, then taps the phone display. "What about strange phone calls? Receive any of those lately, weird interference, static, anything like that?" I asked Mrs. Waters.
"No." Mrs. Waters said, defensively. Dean raises his eyebrows at her. "No!" She exclaimed. "Mrs Waters, withholding information from the police is a capital offence." Dean informed her.
Sam noisily clears his throat and Dean glances at him and receiving a glare. "In some parts of the world I'm sure." Dean said, under his breath as he turn back.
Mrs. Waters sighs. "A couple of weeks ago, uh.... there was this..." She said. "This what? I asked. "I woke up one morning, I heard Ben in his study. I thought he was talking to a woman." Mrs. Waters said.
"What made you think that?" Sam asked, walking over to rejoin us in the hallway. "Because he kept calling her Linda. The thing is, I picked up the other line and nobody was there, Ben was talking to nobody." Mrs. Waters replied. "There was nothing?" Sam asked. "Just static." She said.
"Did you ever speak to Ben about this phone call?" I asked. "No. I should have but...no." She replied. "Did he ever say who Linda was?" Sam asked and Mrs. Waters look a bit stunned. "What difference does it make, there was nobody on the other end!" She said, getting upset. The boys and I exchange a look.
We return to our motel room, where Dean was using the laptop, while Sam and I sat on the bed. "Linda's a babe. Or, was." Dean said. "Did you find her?" Sam asked. "Yeah, Linda Bateman. She and Ben Waters were high school sweethearts." He replied.
"So what happened?" I asked "Drunk driver hit them head on. Ben walked away." Dean said. "So, what then? Dead flame calls to chat?" Sam asked. "You would think, but Linda was cremated. So why's she still floating around?" Dean asked, getting up from the table.
"You got me." I said shrugging. "What about that, uh, caller I.D?" Dean asked, walking over to us. "Turns out, it's a phone number." Sam replied. "No phone number I've ever seen." Dean said. "Yeah, 'cause it's about a century old, back from when phones had cranks." Sam said.
"So why use that number to reach out and touch someone?" I asked. "Got me there too, but we should put a trace on it." Sam said. "Well how the hell are we going to put a trace on something that's over 100 years old?" Dean asked.
The boys and I follow a suited man down the stairs and along a hallway. "We don't get many folks from HQ down here." The man said. "Yes well the main office mentioned that there would be a lunch." Dean said and Sam glares at him from behind the man's back. Dean just shrugs.
"Well I'm sure we can arrange something. The man you wanna be speaking to is right this..." The man said, as Sam swipes at a fly that has flown into his hair. "I know, sorry. We've got something of a hygiene issue down here if you ask me." The man said.
We then enter an office. "Stewie? What did I tell you about keeping this place clean." The man said to Stewie, who sat at a large console with multiple screens and keyboards. Various packets and junk food are strewn about.
Stewie jumps at our entrance and desperately tries to close down the multiple screens in front of him showing advertisements for porn sites. "Spam mail... spam mail..." He said, clicking quickly as I averted my gaze from the screens.
"Stewie Myers. Mr. Campbell. Mr. Raimi. Ms. Tapert." The man introduced us, but Stewie was still clicking away, "I don't know how all this got here..." He said.
The man reaches out and flicks the back of Stewie's head, making him jump again and grunt. "From headquarters?" He said and Stewie spins around in his chair, then quickly crosses his legs and places his hands together on his lap.
"Give these lady and gentlemen whatever they need." The man said. "Yeah." Stewie said. "Thank you." The boys and I said to the man as he leaves. "So.... can I help you?" Stewie asked us.
Dean checks to make sure the man is gone, then gestures toward the screen. "Is that, ahhh, BustyAsianBeauties.com?" He asked, smirking. "No." Stewie replied, quickly. "Oh, me so horny." A woman on the computer said as the screen shows it is the website.
I scrunch up my noise in disguise as Stewie quickly click exit again. "Maybe." He muttered. "A word to the wise? Platinum membership? Worth every penny. Ha?" Dean said, nodding knowingly.
"Right, anyway. We're here to trace a number?" Sam said and hands Stewie a piece of paper. "Where did you get this?" He asked. "Off caller I.D." Sam replied. "Oh no, that's impossible." He said.
"It hasn't been used in a few years, we know." I said. "A few years? It's prehistoric. Trust me, nobody is using this number anymore." Stewie said. "Sure. Could you run it anyway?" Sam asked him.
"Sure. Why don't I just rearrange my whole life first." Stewie said, snarkily. The three of us glance at each other and Dean smiles. "Listen, uh, Stewie." He said, leaning closer to the man.
"You got like six kinds of employee code violations down here, not to mention the sickening porn that is clogging up your hard drive. Now when my partner says run the number, I suggest you run the number!" He said, threateningly.
We all give Stewie a hard look and he looks between us then turns back to his console. Dean grins, Sam shrugs and I smile back. "Okay, whatever, jeez!" Stewie said as he clicks a few more buttons.
One of Stewie's screens fills with a long list of numbers. "Holy crap." He exclaimed. "What?" I asked. "I can't tell you where the number comes from, but I can tell you where it's been going." Stewie said. "What do you mean?" Sam asked.
Stewie pushes print, goes to the printer and hands some paper to Sam. "Ten different number in the past few weeks, all got calls from the same number." He looking between the boys and I as we stare at each other.
Stewie then sighs and walks between them back to his console. He sits and stares at it for a moment, then looks back. "So, are we done here? Cause I was.... sort of... busy?" He said and Dean smirked. "Right." He said and we turn to leave.
Sam and I got out of a rental car, making our way up a footpath and knock on the door. The door is opened by a middle-aged man. His son comes to stand beside him, around 6 or 7 yrs old. "Yeah?" The man asked.
"Hello sir, we're with the phone company?" Sam said. "We didn't call the phone company." The man said, looking between us, confused. "Oh no sir, we're calling you. We've had a lot of complaints from the neighbourhood lately." I said.
"Complaints?" He asked. "Yes sir. Dropped calls, static, maybe even strange voices on the other end of the line?" Sam asked as a teenage girl steps into the hallway, looking startled.
"No, we haven't had any of that here." The man said. "Nothing?" I asked. "No." He replied. "Okay. Great, just thought we'd check. Thanks." Sam said. "No problem." The man said, then turns to his son. "Come on, Simon."
As they turn to close the door I saw the girl staring at us, looking scared. She turns away as the door closes. I stare after her then exchanged a look with Sam.
We return to our car and as I open my door the girl appears. "No way you work for the phone company." She said. "Sure we do." I said. "Since when does the phone people drive a rental or wear cheap suits?" She asked and Sam huffs a laugh. "Yeah, well. Maybe we're all keeping secrets." He said.
"Why did you ask my Dad if he's hearing strange voices on the phone?" She asked. "Why, did you hear something?" I asked. "No." She replied. "Our mistake, we thought maybe you did." I said.
"Well I didn't, okay?" The girl said, defensively. "Okay. Sorry to bother you." I said, smiling. The girl's looks uncomfortable but doesn't move. Sam looks down at his keys, then leans on the roof of the car, looking over at her.
"Because you know... if you did... then we would have told you that we've been right where you're standing right now. Hearing things, even seeing things that can't be explained. Maybe we would have been able to help out a little bit. Anyway..." Sam said and we start to get in the car.
"Hey wait." The girl said, getting us to stop and look back at her. "Maybe.... maybe I've been talking on the phone... with my Mom." She said. "Well that's not so strange." Sam said.
"She's dead. Like three years now." She said and I narrow my eyes at this. "How often does she call you?" I asked. "A few times. It started a week ago. I thought I was like, crazy or something." She said.
"Well we can tell you one thing for sure, and you're going to have to go with us on this, okay? You're not crazy." Sam assured her and she gave us a worry look.
Later, Sam was driving when his phone rings. He answered it and puts it on speaker. "Yeah." He said. "Dude, stiffs have been calling people all over town." Dean said. "Yeah, tell us about it." I said. "I just talked to an 84 year old grandmother who's having phone sex with her husband, who died in Korea!" Dean said.
"Eww." Sam and I exclaimed, in disgusted. "It redefined my understanding of the word 'Necrophilia'." Dean said. "So what the hell's going on here, Dean?" Sam asked.
"Beats me, but we'd better find out soon. This place is turning into spook central." Dean replied. "Yeah. All right, I'll call you later." Sam said. "Yeah." Dean said, before Sam hanged up.
I shiver at the thought of the old woman Dean mentioned. "Pfft. I don't think I'm gonna get phone-grandma out of my head any time soon." I said and Sam sniggers.
"Well... maybe I can help you forget about that tonight." He said, smirking. "How?" I asked, confused. Sam looks over at me and raises his eyebrows. I stare back at him confused until it click. "Oh." I said, feeling the heat rising to my cheeks.
I clear my throat, looking away. "Y-yeah that sound uh... sounds cool." I stammered and Sam chuckles. "It's cute you're still shy about it." He remarked. "Shut up or I'm gonna change my mind." I said. "Yes, ma'am." Sam said, smirking.
We return to the motel, where Dean told us about a mysterious phone call he got immediately after Sam hanged up. Sam and I were sitting at the table, while Dean paces.
"Dad? You really think it was Dad?" Sam asked, confused. "I don't know, maybe." Dean replied. "Well what did he sound like?" Sam asked. "Like Oprah!" Dean exclaimed, sarcastically. "Like Dad, he sounded like Dad, what do you think?" He growled.
"What did he say?" I asked. "My name." He replied. "That's it?" I asked. "Call dropped out." Dean said. "Why would he even call in the first place, Dean?" Sam asked.
"I don't know, man. Why are ghosts calling anybody in this town? But I mean, other people are hearing from their loved ones, why can't we? It's at least a possibility, right?" Dean said. "Yeah, I guess?" I said, unsure.
"Okay, so what if....what if it really is Dad? What happens if he calls back?" Dean asked. "What do you mean?" Sam asked. "What do I say?" He asked.
"Hello." Sam replied. "Hello?" Dean asked in disbelief and Sam shrugs. "That's what you come back with. Hello?" Dean asked, angrily.
"See you soon?" I suggested and both boys gave me look of disbelief. I look between them nervously. "Too soon?" I asked and Dean points at me. "That's not funny." He said.
Dean then grab his jacket, heading for the door and grumbling under his breath. We watch him leave concerned and Sam shakes his head.
Three house later, Sam was sitting on the couch with his laptop in front of him. I had gotten up from the couch to rinse out my mug when the door opens and Dean walks in. "Find anything?" He asked us. "After three hours we have found no reason why anything supernatural would be going on here." Sam said.
"Well, you know, you think a Stanford education and a high school hook up rate of zero point zero would produce better results than that." Dean sneered. "Hilarious." Sam said, deadpanning. "Guys, you're just looking in the wrong places." Dean said.
"And what are the right places, Dean?" I asked, leaning on the counter and crossing my arms. Dean reaches into his jacket pocket. "Motel pamphlet rack." He said and drop some literature on the coffee table. "Milan, Ohio. Birthplace of Thomas Edison."
"Yeah, right. So what?" Sam asked, flicking through the papers. "Keep reading." Dean said, Sam scoffs slightly and keeps looking. He sighs, but after a few moments his eyebrows go up and he looks at Dean. "You're kidding." He said, Dean raises his eyebrows back, smiling.
We headed over to the museum, taking the tour. "And we're walking. And, here we have one of the museum's most unique and treasured possessions. Thomas Edison's spirit phone. Did you know that Mr Edison, as well as being one of America's most beloved inventors, was also a devout occultist? Ooh!" The guide said, quieting her fingers at certain words.
"What's with the quote-y fingers?" Dean whispered to Sam and I. "He spent years working on this, his final invention, which he was convinced could be used to communicate with the dead. Pretty spooky, huh?" The guide said, then she checks her watch and twirls her fingers in the air and begins leading the group into the next room.
"And we're walking. We are walking. We're walking. And we're not touching that. And we're walking. And stop." She said as the group moves on to the next room, with only the boys and I hanging back.
Sam quickly gets out his EMF and holds it over the spirit phone. "Anything?" I asked. "Nothing." He replied, stuffing the EMF back in his pocket before anyone sees it. "What do you think?" Dean asked. "Honestly? It kinda looks like an old pile of junk to me." Sam said.
"It's not even plugged in." I said. "Maybe it didn't work like that." Sam suggested. "Okay. Maybe it's like a radio tower, broadcasting the dead all over town." Dean said. "Could be." Sam said, shrugging.
"You know, this caller I.D. is 100 years old, right? Right around the time this thing was built." Dean said. "Yeah, but why would it all of a sudden start working now?" I asked.
"I don't know. But as long as the mouldy are calling the freshers around here it's the best reason we've got." Dean said. "Yeah, maybe." Sam muttered. Dean looks down at the spirit phone. "So maybe it really is Dad." He said, looking at us. Sam and I stare back at him, concerned.
The next morning, Sam and I enter the motel room, seeing Dean typing furiously on the laptop. "What's up?" He asked us. "That girl Lanie, her Mom's ghost spooked her out pretty bad last night." I replied. "That sucks." Dean muttered, not looking up from his work. "Yeah it does." I said, quietly.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked him. "I think Dad's right. I think the demon is here. Check it out." He replied and handed Sam some papers, going to his bag. "What is this, weather reports?" Sam asked, as I look at the papers with him.
"Omens. Demonic omens. Electrical storms everywhere we've been for the past two weeks." Dean said. "Ahh... I don't remember any lightning storms." I said, looking over at Dean. "Well, I don't remember you studying meteorology as a kid either. But I'm telling you, that bastard's been tailing us... wearing some poor dude's meat." Dean said.
"And it's following you and (Name) because..." Sam said, skeptical. "I guess we're big game, you know. Our asses are too sweet to let outta sight." He said, smirking proudly. "Okay. Sure." I muttered, in disbelieve.
Dean then snatches the papers back. "Don't get too excited, guys. Might pull something." He said. "Dean, look, We wanna believe this man, I really do..." I said. "Then believe it! If we get this sucker, it's Miller Time." Dean exclaimed.
"Yeah, that's another thing. Dad rattles off an exorcism that can kill a demon? I mean not just send it back to hell, but kill it?" Sam asked, questionably. "I've checked it out. This is heavy duty Dark Ages. Fifteenth century." Dean said.
"Yeah, I've checked on it too Dean. And so did Bobby." Sam said, quietly. "Okay, and?" Dean asked. "Look. It definitely is an exorcism, okay, there's just no evidence it can kill a demon." Sam replied. "No evidence it can't." Dean said.
"Come on man..." Sam said. "Hey, as far as I'm aware the only one of us who has actually been to hell is Dad. And maybe he picked up a couple of tricks down there, like which exorcisms work." Dean said.
"Maybe it does. We hope it does too, but we gotta be sure." I said. "Why aren't we sure?" Dean asked. "Cause we don't know what's going on around here Dean! I mean, some guy blows his brains out, a little girl is scared out of her wits." I exclaimed.
"Wow, a couple of civvies are freaked out by some ghosts. News flash (Name), people are supposed to be freaked out by ghosts!" Dean shouted and we stare at each other for a long moment.
Sam sighs and Dean drops his head in frustration. "Dad tell you where to find the demon?" Sam asked. "I'm waiting on the call!" Dean shouted, holding his phone up. It was now my turn to sigh. "I told Lanie Sam and I stop by." I said, quietly.
Sam and I then turn away. "Oh, good yeah. No you go hang out with jail bait. Just, uh, watch out for Chris Hansen. Meanwhile I'll be here getting ready to, you know, save my and your life." Dean said, sarcastically as we kept walking toward the door.
"You two are unbelievable, you know that? Especially you Sam, I mean for months we've been trying to break this demon deal. Now Dad's about to give us the freaking address and you can't accept it? The man is dead and you're still butting heads with the guy!" Dean shouted, causing Sam to stop and turn back to him.
"That is not what this is about." He said, firmly. "SO WHAT IS IT!" Dean shouted. "THE FACT IS WE'VE GOT NO HARD PROOF HERE, DEAN! AFTER EVERYTHING, YOU'RE STILL JUST GOING ON BLIND FAITH!" Sam shouted back, crossing the room to stand in front of him.
"Yeah, well maybe! You know, maybe that's all I got, okay?" Dean said and we stare at each other again, until Dean looks down. "Please. Just please don't go anywhere until we get back. Okay, Dean? Please." Sam pleaded but Dean remains silent.
Sam shakes his head and turns for the door. I stare at Dean with worry, as Sam opens the door heading out. Dean lifted his head to look at me, we share a gaze as I turn away to follow Sam.
Sam and I return to Lanie's house and stood in her room as she explained what happen last night. "Have you told your father about any of this?" Sam asked her. "And bother him at work? No. He wouldn't believe me anyway, he'd just chuck me into therapy." She replied.
"So what did your mother say?" I asked. "She wanted to see me. So at first I thought I was supposed to go to the cemetery." Lanie said. "Did you?" I asked and she nodded. "Nothing happened. But then she started asking me to do other things." She said.
"What sort of things?" Sam asked. "Bad things." Lanie replied. "Lanie please. Tell us what happened, it's very important." Sam said, softly. "Mom told me to go to Dad's medicine cabinet." Lanie said, bitting her lip. "And?" I asked and Lanie begins to tremble.
"She wanted me to take his sleeping pills, take all of his sleeping pills." She exclaimed, tearfully. "She wanted you to kill yourself?" Sam asked, Lanie nodded as she starts crying. "Why would my Mom want me to do that?" She asked.
"I don't know." I muttered. "I mean, just so I could come to her?" Lanie asked. "What'd you say?" Sam asked. "She wanted me to come to her." She replied. "No, how'd she say it?" He asked.
"'Come to me.' Like a million times." She said and I froze. Sam and I shared a look, and I turn back to the distraught girl. "Lanie. That's not your mother." I said, sternly.
"Listen to me. Don't answer the phone. Don't use the computer. Don't do anything unless (Name) or I say to, all right?" Sam said, as we walk out into the hall, and start down the stairs. He and I stop, realizing Lanie's not following. "Lanie." I said, looking over to see her standing in a doorway. "Where's Simon?" She asked us, terrified.
Sam and I race out the house, searching for the missing child. I saw Simon walking as if in a trance across the road. Cars horns blare as he walk, narrowly avoiding him. I chase after the boy, as he kept walking across the next road, with a large truck barreling toward him.
The truck horn blares and tires squeal. Simon seems to awaken and throws his hands up to protect himself. I rush into the road, grabbing Simon and diving back for the verge We laid in the grass, panting as the truck roars past.
I sat up, watching the truck continue down the road then look down at the boy, who sat up as well. "You okay?" I asked him. Simon looks up at me with an amazed expression. "Uh-huh." He said, nodding slightly.
I heard rapid foots steps behind us and turn to see Sam running over to us. "Hey." He said, quickly dropping down next to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. "You two alright?" He asked, looking between me and Simon.
I open my mouth to respond but Simon spoke up. "Wonder Woman saved me!" He exclaimed. I look at the boy surprise, who look back at me like I was the coolest thing ever. Sam sniggers. "Yeah, she did." He said, smiling at me.
After returning Simon to his sister, we got in our rental car and I called Dean as Sam drives us back to the motel. "Dean, it's not John." I said. "Then what is it?" He asked. "A crocotta." I replied. "Is that a sandwich?" He asked. "Some kind of scavenger. Mimics loved ones, whispers 'Come to me', then lures you into the dark and swallows your soul." I explained.
"A crocotta, right, damn that makes sense." Dean said. "Dean, look, I'm sorry, I know..." I started to say, but he talk over me. "Hey, don't these things live in filth?" Dean asked. "Yeah." I replied. "(Name), the flies at the phone company." He said, and I look over at Sam with a knowing look.
Sam and I creep along an alley and peak in a window at Stewie, sitting at his console. We were distracted by a banging noise, causing us to crouch down a bit. Seeing nothing else around, we looks back at Stewie, who is leaving the room.
We ran back up the alley and saw Stewie leaving the building. We hid behind a van, Sam was holding his phone to his ear. Sam sighs, glancing to me. "Dean, we're in the parking lot. He's here. Hurry." He whispered into his phone, telling me his call just went to voicemail.
Stewie unlocks his car and Sam rushes him, pushing him into the car and holding a metal spike to the back of his neck. "What the hell!" Stewie exclaimed, grunting. "We know what you are." Sam growled.
"Wait, mister." Stewie pleaded. "And we know how to kill you." I said. "Please. Okay, wait, wait. If we're overcharging you for the call waiting or something I... I can fix that. I am your friend!" Stewie said and we look at him confused.
"Please. Please just don't kill me! Don't kill me, please!" Stewie pleased, right before I felt something hit the back of my head, knocking me out.
.
.
.
.
.
"I'm sorry, Clark. I'm sorry for whatever I did to you. I'm sorry...please..." I heard Stewie's voice sniveling as I started to wake up. I groan, opening my eyes to see I'm tied to a chair in the Phone Company's basement.
I look to my right to see Sam tied to chair as well, and to my left was Stewie tied to another chair. The man from yesterday, who I guess is named Clark, moves behind Stewie.
"Wait! Don't do it." Sam shouted at Clark who look over at Sam and I. "You're both awake." He said. Clark leans over Stewie and places the tip of a knife against his thigh.
"You're not a killer Clark, no! There's a good man inside of you, I know it." Stewie cried and Clark look over at us. "What do you think, Sammy, (Name), am I a good man?" He asked us. "Just let him go." I said.
"I would. I really would. If only I'd had more than a salad for lunch. You see, I'm starving." Clark said and lifts the knife high above his head, plunging it into Stewie's chest. "NO!" Sam and I shouted, but it was too late.
Stewie head slump down, dead. Clark moves in front of Stewie's body. His mouth opens, revealing a blood red interior and razor sharp spikes. He crouches slightly, holds Stewie by both shoulders and unhinges his jaw, his mouth becoming impossibly wide. Placing his mouth close to Stewie's face he sucks in his energy.
Sam and I shudder, looking away. Clark stands, wiping his mouth. "My last call with Dean. That was you. You led us here." I sneered, glaring up at him. "Some calls I make, some calls I take, but you have to admit, I had you fooled for a while. All that Edison phone crap." Clark said, then laughs and moves over to the telephone exchange cabinet. He places his hands against the glass and leans back in ecstasy.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked. "I'm killing your brother. Or maybe I'm killing another guy. We'll just have to see how it goes." Clark replied, with a psychotic smile. Clark then walks back over to Stewie's body, pulling the knife out of his chest.
"You know, mimicking Dean's one thing. But my Dad. That's a hell of a trick." Sam said. "Well once I made you three as hunters, it was easy." Clark replied, pushing Stewie aside, the chair rolling him out of the way.
"I found Dean's number, then your number, then her number, then your father's numbers. Then emails, voicemails, everything. You see, people think that stuff just gets erased, but it doesn't. You'd be surprised how much of yourself is just floating out there, waiting to be plucked." He explained as he walk over to Sam, leaning over him and waving the bloody knife in his face.
"Dean's not going to fall for this. He's not going to kill that guy." I said, working through my ties, to break free. "Then the guy kills him." Clark said, glancing over at me. "Technology. Makes life so much easier." Clark said, looking back at Sam, as he gently brushes his bangs aside with the tip of the knife.
"Used to be I'd hide in the woods for days, weeks, whispering to people, trying to draw them out into the night. But they had community, they all looked out for each other, I'd be lucky to eat one or two souls a year. Now when I'm hungry, I simply make a phone call. You're all so connected. But you've never been so alone." He sneered, as I finally managed to break my ties.
Clark opens his mouth and begins to unhinge his jaw while raising his knife. I erupts out of my chair and tackled Clark, falling to the ground, getting him to lose the knife.
We struggle for it and I rise my first. Clark grabs my jacket and swings me around into a metal grate. Clark picks up the knife, running at me, until Sam broke free and attack him.
Sam and Clark struggle for the knife, until I join into the fight. We exchange blows as we move about the room. I finally manages to pull the knife away and Sam hits Clark, forcing him backwards into the wall. A spike, one of many on a corkboard, jams into the back of Clark's neck, killing him.
Sam and I enter the motel room, waking over to the bathroom door, where Dean stood, holding a facecloth to his cut eye. "I see they improved your face." Dean joked, looking at us in the mirror. Sam and I scoff. "Right back at ya." Sam said.
"So, crocotta, huh?" Dean asked, moving past us into the main room. "Yep." Sam replied. "That would explain the flies." Dean said, taking a seat on his bed. "Yeah it would." I said, sitting down on the other bed with Sam.
"Hey, um...look I'm sorry it wasn't Dad." Sam said to Dean, who huffs. "Nah, I gave you a hell of a time on this one. You guys were right." He said. "Forget about it." I said.
"I can't. I wanted to believe so badly that there was a way outta this. I mean we're both staring down the barrel at this thing, (Name). You know, Hell. For real, forever, and I just..." Dean said, ducking his head. "Yeah." Sam muttered, dropping his gaze to the floor as he places his hand on my knee, I in turn place my hand over his.
"I'm scared, guys. I'm really scared." Dean admitted, tearing up. "I know. I'm scared too." I said, tearing up as well. Sam turn his hand over to intertwine our fingers and hold it, firmly, as he starts tearing up as well.
"I guess I was willing to believe anything. You know, the last act of a desperate man." Dean said. "There's nothing wrong with having hope, Dean." Sam said to him, softly.
"Hope doesn't get you jack squat. I can't expect Dad to show up with some miracle at the last minute. I can't expect anybody to, you know. I mean the only person that can get (Name) and I out of this thing is us." Dean said. "And me." Sam said earnestly, squeezing my hand.
Dean look over at us. "And me?" He asked, in disbelief. "What?" Sam asked, confused. "Deep revelation, having a real moment here, that's what you come back with? And me?" He said, disappointed.
I open my mouth to say something, but Dean pointed at me. "Don't." He said, sternly. I close my mouth, keeping what I was about to say to myself. "Uh... do you want a poem?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows. "The moment's gone." Dean replied, Sam and I smile slightly.
"Unbelievable." Dean muttered, flicking the TV on, reaches between the beds to grab two bottles of beer, holding two out to Sam without looking at us. Sam took the bottles, handing one to me as Dean took another beer for himself. We cracking the bottles open and drink in unison, while staring at the TV.