ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ||ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ

ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀʏ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ (ᴘᴛ 3)

Six months later, Sam is driving the Impala down a road at night. Sam's face holds no expression and he doesn't react when a phone rings.

"It's Sam. Leave me a message" Sam shines a flashlight around and fires s gun.

"Sam? It's Bobby. Heart about that demon thing you took care of in Death Valley. Nice job. Been about three months we talked, though. Be nice to hear your voice. Give a call. I'm here"

==

Sam opens the car trunk and pulls out a gun from the secret compartment. All the weapons are neatly places into precisely-shaped foam slots.

==

Sam opens the room door and he pulls off his over shirt; his T-shirt is blood-soaked. He cuts through the bloodstain to reveal a bleeding wound. He pours hydrogen peroxide on it and goes into the hole with a pair of tweezers, with which he pulls out a bullet before stitching the wound.

==

Sam is eating before his phone rings again.

"Sam? Bobby again. Look, I'm worried about you"

==

Sam cleans a gun, facing a wall of maps and newspaper clipping and security-camera stills featuring the Trickster, arranged in neat lines with non-overlapping.

"Just tell me you're not sitting alone somewhere obsessing over this damn Trickster. Call me, Sam. We can find it together. No one man should take something like this on alone. You hear me? By the way, that vampire nest in Austin, hell of a job" Sam sits up stiffly and makes the bed with military precision. He goes into the bathroom and brushes his teeth.

==

Sam's phone beeps again.

"Sam? It's Bobby. I found him"

==

Bobby is kneeling on the floor turning the pages of a book, which is dead centre of a chalked diagram with three candles and three bowls of unidentified substance. Sam enters the room behind him and Bobby stands.

"It's good to see you, boy," Bobby says, hugging Sam, who doesn't respond. Bobby pulls back.

"What are we doing here, Bobby?"

"Well, it's the last place we're sure the Trickster worked his magic."

"So?"

"So, you want this thing? I found a summoning ritual to bring the Trickster here."

"What do we need?" Sam asks.

"Ritual says near a gallon. And it's gotta be fresh, too."

"Meaning we have to bleed a person dry."

"And it's gotta be tonight. Or not for another fifty years."

"Then let's go get some."

"Then let's go get some." Sam turns to leave. Bobby doesn't move, and Sam notices, turning back.

"You break my heart, kid."

"What?"

"I'm not gonna let you murder an innocent person."

"Then why'd you bring me here?" Sam asks.

"Why? Because it was the only way you'd see me! Because I'm trying to knock some sense into you! Because I thought you'd back down from killing someone!"

"Well, you thought wrong," Sam says bluntly. "Leave the stuff, I'll do it myself."

"I told you, I'm not gonna let you kill a person."