ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ||ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ

ᴘɪʟᴏᴛ (ᴘᴛ 3)

Sam has caught himself on the edge of the bridge and is hanging on. He pulls himself up onto the bridge and looks around.

"Dean! Y/N!" Below, a filthy and annoyed Dean crawls out of the water and onto the mud, dragging an equally filthy and coughing Y/N beside him, both panting.

"What?"

"Hey! Are you two alright?" Dean holds up one hand in an A-OK sign, and Y/N just sticks her thumb up.

"We're super!" Sam laughs in relief, and he scoots away from the edge.

==

Dean shuts the hood of his car and leans on it, with Y/N sitting on top of it.

"Your car is all right?"

"Yeah, whatever she did to it seems all right now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!"

"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure. So, where's the job going from here, geniuses?" Sam settles on the hood next to Y/N, who has sat up and sat between the boys. Dean throws up his arms in frustration and then flicks mud off his hands. Sam sniffs, then looks at Y/N. "You both smell like a toilet." Dean looks down, and Y/N sniffs herself, recoiling at the smell.

==

"One room, please." Dean is standing at the motel check-in desk, still filthy, with Sam and Y/N, also still filthy, right beside him. The clerk picks up the card and looks at it.

"You guys having a reunion or something?"

"What do you mean?"

"I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month." Dean looks back at Y/N and Sam.

==

The motel door swings open. Sam is on the other side, having just picked the lock. Sam hides the picks and stands up. Dean and Y/N are just outside, playing lookout until Sam reaches out of the room to grab their shoulders and yank them in. Sam closes the door behind them. They look around; every vertical surface has papers pinned to it: maps, newspaper clippings, pictures, and notes. There are books on the desk and assorted junk on the floor and bed, including something with a hazardous materials symbol.

"Whoa!" Dean turns on a light by the bed and picks up a half-eaten hamburger sitting there. Sam steps over a line of salt on the floor. Y/N goes over to the desk and looks at the books. Dean sniffs the burger and recoils.

"I don't think he's been here for a couple of days, at least." Sam fingers the salt on the floor and looks up.

"Salt, cats-eye shells—he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in." Dean looks at the paper covering one wall. "What have you got here?"

"Centennial Highway victims," Sam nods. The victims seen on the wall include Mark somebody, William Durrell, Scott Nifong, who disappeared in 1987 at age 25, and somebody Parks. Mark, Durrell, and Nifong are all white males, judging by the photos.

"I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs," Y/N says. Sam crosses the room. "Ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?" While Y/N talks, Sam looks at the papers taped to the other walls.

There's something about the Bell Witch: two people being burned alive, a skeletal person blowing a horn at several scared people with the note 'MORTIS DANSE', a column about 'Devils + Demons', another about 'Sirens, Witches, the Possession', a wooden pentacle, and a note that says 'Woman in White' above a printout of the Jericho Herald article on Constance's suicide. Sam turns on another lamp.

"Dad figured it out." Dean and Y/N turn to look.

"What do you mean?"

"He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's the woman in white." Dean looks at the photo of Constance's victims.