WARNING BEFORE READING: THIS SERIES IS TEMPORARILY DISCONTINUED, I PLAN TO SLOWLY REWRITE THIS BOOK
SCREAM (v)
utter a piercing cry
•••
She wants somethings more than herself. She gets something more than she can handle.
// Set in Season 4+ //
Book...
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●●●
“SO…” Sam says as we drive to a new case in Canton, Ohio. “What’s with this job?”
“Dude suffers a head-on collision in a parked car? I’d say that’s worth checking out.” Dean replies.
“Yeah, definitely.” Sam says. “I just think we have bigger problems. Don’t you think?”
“I’m sure the apocalypse will still be there when we get back.” Dean says sarcastically.
“I know, I just- I mean if the Colt is really out there-” Sam reasons.
“Yeah, we’ve been looking for three weeks. We got bupkus.” Dean says.
“Okay…but Dean, if we’re going to ice the devil-” Sam tries to say before Dean cuts him off.
“This is what we’re doing, okay?” He says. “End of discussion.” Sam sighs and looks out of the window. “Look, this is our first case back at it together. You know, I think, we ought to ease into it, put the training wheels back on.”
“Pun intended?” I ask deviously, interrupting their moment.
“Unintentionally intended, but nonetheless intended.” Dean answers. I smile.
“So you think I need training wheels.” Sam says.
“No. ‘we’. We need training wheels. As a team.” Dean answers.
After a small moment of silence, I lean forward. “Was it a head-on collision…or a head-off collision?” I ask jokingly, remembering what the article we read said. The guy was impaled by the windshield of a sports car.
“Rowan!” Sam complains.
“Sorry, that was insensitive…” I say slowly. “But that was a great joke, you gotta admit.”
“Definitely.” Dean says. He holds up his right hand while his left one steers and I lean forward to hive-five him.
“You guys are terrible.” Sam says.
“Yep.” Dean says.
●●●
“Agents Bonham, Klein, and Copeland.” Dean says to the sheriff in the police station as the three of us hold out our badges.
“Rick Carnegie. Good to know you.” He says, shaking our hands. “So you’re here on account of Cal Hopkins’ death?”
“That’s right.” Sam answers.
“Well, afraid you came a long way for nothing.” The officer says. “We already booked the guy that did it.”
“I’m sorry. And who was that?” I ask Sheriff Carnegie.
“Follow me.” He says and leads us into an office. Once inside he plays for us a recording taken the night of the murder.
“Cal? Hey, you all right, man? I thought I heard something.” The suspect from the recording says. On the screen, the victims’ impaled face is displayed on the screen and I scrunch my face, looking away.
