Baby Winchester

The Benders

We were currently in Hibbing, Minnesota on yet another case. We hadn't found Dad, and Dean could barely look or talk to me. Sam stuck by me, however, while the voices and everything got worse. I was currently sitting in the Impala, too young to be a sheriff. I was looking online, seeing if anyone had found Dad. Even after what I grew up with him doing, beating me and everything, I still wanted to find him. As crazy and insane as that sounds.........

That night, the guys and I are at Kugel's Keg, the local bar in town. Sam had a beer, I had a water and Dean was playing darts next to the table. "So, local police have now ruled out foul play. apparently, there are worse signs of a struggle." Sam announced, looking at his laptop and I had Dad's journal. "Well, they could be right, it could just be a kidnapping. Maybe this isn’t our kind of gig." "Yeah, maybe not." Sam replied.

"Except, Dad marked the area. In the journal." I tell them. Dean sits down next to me, for once. He looks at the journal. "Why would he even do that?" He asked, not looking at me. "Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes out at night. Grabs people, then vanishes. He found this too—this county has more missing persons per capital than anywhere else in the state." "That is weird." Dean responded. "Yeah." Sam said, joining in. "Don't phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot." Dean asked. "Well, there are all kinds. You know, Springhill Jacks, phantom gassers. They take people anywhere, anytime. Look, Dean, I don’t know if this is our kind of gig either." Sam said. "Yeah, you're right, we should ask around more tomorrow."

"Right. I saw a motel about 5 miles back." Sam said, pulling out his wallet. "Whoa, whoa, easy. Let's have another round." Dean told him. "We should get an early start." Sam told him. "Yeah, you really know how to have fun, don’t you, Grandma? Alright, I’ll meet you outside, I gotta take a leak." Dean grabbed his coat and walked over to the bathroom. My phone rang and I answered it, telling Sam I'd meet him out there. He gathered the research and left.

"Hello?" I asked into the phone. "Kaylee? That you?" "Bobby? Hey, how have you been?" "I'm living. What are you and those idgits you call brothers up to?" "Working a case in Minnesota, why?" "Any news about your dad?" "Apart from him calling a few times, no. You have any luck?" "Nah, listen, tell your brothers I said hi and don't die. i'll call you if I hear anything." "'Kay, thanks Bobby." I hung up and turned around, Dean right behind me.

"Jesus...! What?" "I thought you already went out." "No, Bobby called. You alright?" I asked. He seemed angrier than usual. "Fine." He said and I said nothing. We walked out and Sam was no where to be seen. The journal is on the hood, and the car is empty. We look around and Dean walks over to a biker couple, who are clearly drunk. He talks to them for a second, before walking back, yelling for Sam. I notice a security camera across the road and point it out to Dean.

The next morning, Dean and I are in the Sheriff's Department. Dean and I have fake ID's, as usual, hoping to find Sam. "So, what can we do for you, Officer Washington and Officer Austin?" the lady, Kathleen, asked us. "We're working a missing persons." Dean replied. "I didn't know the Jenkins case was being covered by state police." "Oh, no. No, there’s someone else. Actually, it’s his cousin, my brother. We were havin’ a few last night at this bar down by the highway. And we haven’t seen him since." I tell her. "Does he have a drinking problem?" "Sam? Two beers and he's doin' karaoke. No, he wasn't drunk. He was taken." Dean replied. Kathleen, Dean, and I walked over to her computer, sitting down.

"Alright. What's his name?" She asked. "Winchester. Sam Winchester." Dean replied. "Like the rifle?" "Like the rifle." I told her. She typed Sam's name into the computer and brought up his police record. She  reads through it then clicks on something else. "Samuel Winchester. So, you know that his brother, Dean Winchester, died in St. Louis. And, uh, was suspected of murder." She read off. "Yeah, Dean. Kind of the black sheep of the family. Handsome, though." Dean replied, nonchalant. "Uh-huh." She responded, typing something else in and bringing up more search results on the computer.