When you're used to hunting all manner of things that want to put your organs on the wrong side of skin you learn to savour the small periods of silence you get. Which is what Dean was doing at that moment, as he lay on yet another sofa bed which made the sound of nails being drawn across a chalk board every time he moved around on it, he had cold bear in his hand and a smirk on his face. Sam sat across from him on a petite round table and a rickety old chair that could barely accommodate his large frame , typing away on his computer eyebrows crossed with determination, Dean glanced across to see what he was actually doing. "Sammy, are you every gonna learn to relax?" He said, after which he took yet another swing of his beer. "No Dean, I'm not" came the response "There hasn't been any demon sightings in weeks, nor have we heard from Cas or seen Crawly, something's up." This of course worried Dean, but he believed he was at least entitled to 5 minutes sit down. "Ah c'mon man, can't we just have a normal day for once in our lives? I don't know, we could have a day out, increase our brotherly bond or something." Sam shot him a glance. "A day out? Really Dean?" Dean sighed " yeah I didn't think so" and with one last squeak of the sofa bed he hauled himself up and made his way to Sam. "So" he said after what seemed to be an eternity leant over Sam's shoulder staring at his computer screen. "So there's truly nothing going on, no hauntings, possessions or anything?"Dean said with his bottom lip curled out slightly " Well get this Dean" Sam adjusted in the chair so he was sat-up a little straighter. "All that's been going on is that over the past few weeks bodies have been turning up in Iowa, completely stripped of flesh and cloths turned into rags." "So what, Werewolf gone mad?" Dean replied with a confused look taking centre place on his face. " No Dean, when I say stripped of flesh I don't mean eaten and the heart missing, I mean everything else is gone, sinew, muscle, organs, literally everything. It's like they've been bleached white." At which Sam brought up an image which took Dean by surprise more than anything, because he saw was exactly what Sam had described as on the screen lay a body dressed in the remains of what Dean presumed was a suit once upon a time and an expensive one at that, but now at that was left were thin bits of wool which showed Dean this man had or USED to have a few dollars stored for a rainy day. But that wasn't what surprised Dean, what surprised him the most was what was left of the body, a skeleton so clean that for a few seconds he thought it was fake. He would of carried on believing it to be fake if it weren't for the eye sockets. Dean had seen enough dead people in his life and on some occasion he'd seen those that still had breath in their lungs and not up until quite recently he'd seen dead people become, in what Dean would refer to as 'not so dead anymore.' But he knew there was something special about were the eyes sat. (Or in this case were they used to sat.) A special twinkle that drew you to a person, or an angel. It's what makes a person seem so alive and once that twinkle disappears you know it's gone. "So" Dean said with a sigh and a smirk as he turned to face Sam. "Iowa?" Sam just sighed and nodded his head as he turned to look Dean in the eyes. "Iowa."
So it was that Sam and Dean packed up what little personal belongings they had, Dean tucking his colt into his waistline and Sam packing up his laptop and tucking it away in its case after they had prepared themselves they simply walked out as they had a thousand times before from a million different motels and made their way towards Dean's baby, a 1967 Chevy Impala which Dean had inherited from his dad even though he had technically picked it for him, but this was a different story for a different day. So as the usual routine went Dean threw himself into the driver's seat and put the key into the ignition, turning it gentler than most would to this sort of car and with a purr the heart of the beast revved into life. Dean then of course proceeded to ram a cassette into the player, Master of the puppets by Metallica, one of his favourites. Then he turned the dial which controls the volume all the way to the maximum, despite what he knew what would come next. Which right on queue was Sam grimacing and turning it back to what he believed was a sensible volume. Dean smiled to himself. " Watch out Sammy, next thing you'll be doing is drinking a salad smoothie!" Dean laughed at his own joke. Sam sighed "Dean, you can't blend salad" Sam twisted his head to turn out the window. "Oh and you would know wouldn't you mister 'King of the salads'!" Dean replied under his breath." "That made even less sense Dean " and after a moments silence came the all too familiar "Bitch." "Jerk." Sam finally broke into a smile along with Dean because although they were very different people they were still brothers and that was all that matters until the very end. So all Dean then did was release the hand brake and pulled away from the motel and started their long and tiresome journey to Iowa and not once did they notice the man with suit and brown coat who simply walked into his little blue box and with a sound almost perfect as the impala's engine it vanished.
"Are we there yet?" San asked, how many times he'd asked that Dean had lost count. "No Sammy we've got at least another five miles till we're even close" Dean said without even taking his eyes of the road, so they then sat awkwardly with no communication for ten more minutes. Until Dean suddenly piped up, "So anything else we need to know about this case? You know something that might save our bacon in the nick of time?" Dean readjusted his seat as he waited for Sam's response " Well from what I could find from what little research I could dig up along with a bit of chatter of the police radio, 12 bodies like this have popped up over Des Moines the last couple of months." "Woooh hold up Sammy" Dean turned to face Sam while trying to keep one eye on the road. " Two months? Two whole fricking months!?" " I know Dean, but get this, it hasn't just been Iowa, Some of these bodies can be traced back to Nebraska, Wyoming and even Utah." " So what this could be a plague? Maybe a different strain of the croatoan virus?" " Yeah well whatever it is, it is not happy, the only reason this has been flagged up is that the bodies have been piling up faster, 2 bodies last week, three already this week and whatever it is bullets don't stop it. There were five .357 casing found by one body with the smoking revolver still warm in his right hand. So it's defiantly something, an entity at least, but it's defiantly strong , hell it shrugged those rounds of like they were a light breeze." " Yeah well we'll just have to bring bigger guns then." Came Deans response with a quiver that Sam recognized all too well, it was the same quiver he'd had as he reassured Sam that everything was going to fine just before he got torn to pieces and sent to hell it was the sound he recognized from almost every time they faced mortal peril together, Dean, his brother, always trying to make sure Sammy was safe and ok. Because that was his job, the every lasting mission their Dad had entitled him and it made Sam scared. Why? Because if Dean was trying to comfort Sam he didn't think they'd be coming back.