NO TIME TO DIE◦𝒔𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

chapter fifteen.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
GHOSTFACERS.

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

"I STILL DON'T get why we're even here."

Birdie softly sighed to herself, stealing a glance aside at Dean as she sat in the passenger seat of the Impala. She could see the annoyance on his features, Sam having been against them checking out the Morton House——a house that was said to take someone every leap year only to never be seen or heard from again. There were now only two months left until May——the day Dean's soul was set to be claimed and dragged straight to the depths of fiery Hell.

For the past few weeks, Sam, Dean and Birdie had searched for any possible way to save the oldest Winchester, but they hadn't had any luck. Professors, witches, and just about anyone else who might have known something about the paranormal didn't have any answers for them. Bobby was still searching through all of his books and calling everyone he knew, but it wasn't looking too good as the days passed without anyone finding anything.

"Maybe it'll be nothing," Birdie suggested with a shrug after a few moments of silence, glancing in the backseat where Sam was seated; he wasn't too happy about it, but Birdie had called shotgun and she didn't leave room for him to object.

"Then we're just wasting time by even being here," Sam firmly said.

Dean loudly sighed, looking at Sam through the rearview mirror as he drove closer towards a small clearing in the darkened woods where they could faintly make out the shape of the infamous Morton House. "Look, you said it yourself——the disappearances go back, what, half a century?"

"But Dean——"

"Sammy, I need this," Dean said, putting the car into park before glancing back at his little brother. "We all do, alright?"

Before Sam or Birdie could even respond, Dean was climbing out of the Impala and making his way towards the trunk to grab their things. Birdie pursed her lips as she turned to look back at Sam, seeing the obvious frustration and stress on his features. She didn't blame him; they had nothing and their hope was dwindling. "Come on. Let's. . .let's just work the case, and then we'll get back to findin' a way to save Dean."

"Birdie, he only has two months left," Sam stressed, a faint frown on his lips.

Birdie nodded. "I know, Sam. But maybe-maybe working a case won't be so bad. We've all just been goin' nonstop, constantly searching for ways to save him. This might give us a break."

"Hunting might give us a break?" Sam repeated, raising his brows at the younger woman.

Birdie pursed her lips together, giving him a firm look. "A break to focus on something else for a little while so we don't fry our brains from readin' the same thing over and over."