"One room, please," Dean says. The guy picks up his card, looking at it.
"You guys having a reunion or something?"
"What do you mean," I ask.
"That other guy, Bert Aframian. He came in and bought out a room for the whole month." Dean looks at Sam and me.
Once we have our room key, we find the room that their dad was staying in. The door creaks open, and I quietly step in, as Sam grabs Dean and pulls him in. We slowly take a look around at all the newspapers pinned up and the absolute chaotic mess that his room is. Dean walks over to a lamp and turns it on. "I don't think he's been here for a couple of days at least," Dean says. Sam kneels down and picks a bit of the white grain up.
"Salt, cat's-eye shells. He was worried, trying to keep something from coming in." I walk toward some articles on the wall. "What do you got there?"
"Centennial Highway victims. I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, age, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common," I sigh.
"Dad figured it out," Sam states making me look back at him.
"What do you mean?"
"He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's a woman in white."
"You sly dogs," Dean mutters.
"Okay, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, he would have found the corpse and destroyed it," I point out.
"She might have another weakness."
"No, Dad would want to make sure. He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried," Dean asks.
"No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I'd go ask her husband, if he's still alive," Sam says.
"Hmm. All right, why don't you guys see if you can find an address? I'm gonna get cleaned up," Dean sighs.
"Hey, Dean, what I said earlier about Mom and Dad-- I'm sorry."
"No chick-flick moments."
"All right, jerk," Sam scoffs.
"Bitch." With that, Dean disappears into the bathroom, and I chuckle, shaking my head.
"Hey, Sam," I say. He looks over at me. "Thanks for catching me last night."
"Don't mention it," he shrugs.
"Look... I know I haven't exactly been very nice to you--," I start.
"I don't blame you. The way things ended... I didn't want that to happen," he sighs.
"I know. I didn't either. I just-- I didn't wanna die hunting, you know? I was only eighteen. I had so much life left to live, and after that hunt, I was... I was scared," I admit.
"You? Scared? I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth," he chuckles.
"Me neither, honestly, but... that moment still plays in mind everyday. How close I was to dying... I didn't wanna stop hunting, but I also didn't wanna die, you know," I sigh.
"I know," he nods.
"Dean was so pissed," I add.
"Yeah, but... afterwards, he felt bad, really bad... for how he treated you," he says.
"He did?"
"Yeah... and I did, too."
"Then... why did neither of you come around?"
"We didn't wanna hurt you any more than we already had. We decided to just... leave you alone," he explains briefly.
"Well... I just wish you guys hadn't waited this long to speak to me," I say.
"Me too."