TWENTY ONE

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"HEY," DEAN giggles, "what do you think Sam's doing right now?"

"Uh, watching... Meg...?" Campell Grace gives her brother an odd look. 

Dean gives her a smirk and shakes his head a bit. 

"Oh you are such a pervert! Ew!" The blonde shrieks and launches a pillow at Dean, who is seated at the table over by the window. He dodges it and then chucks it right back at her. "It's Sam for crying out loud!" 

Campbell and Dean have retreated back to the motel to look further into the symbol. Although, Campbell can't seem to wrap her brain around the entirety of it. Every time she glances at it her vision blurs, and not to mention the insane headache that comes with it. So instead the huntress settled for looking into Meg's identity and let Dean handle the other research. 

Their laughing stops as soon as Campbell's phone rings. She rolls over to the other side of the bed and scoops it up, answering it and putting Sam on speakerphone. "Sammy boy," Campbell cheers. 

Her brother scoffs on the other end of the line, "Hey how's it going over there?"

"I don't know man, Meg Masters checks out. What're you up to?"

"Lemme guess," Dean hollers from his side of the room, "you're outside that poor girl's apartment aren't you?"

Sam is silent for a few moments. "No," he finally answers. Campbell and Dean trade suspicious glances. "... Yes."

"You've got a funny way of showing you're affection," Dean grins. 

"As I was saying, there's a Meg Masters in the Andover phone book. I even found her high school yearbook photo," Campbell rolls her eyes.

"Hey! Why don't you knock on her door and invite her to a poetry reading! Or whatever it is you do," Dean is wheezing by now. 

Campbell can practically vision Sam shaking his head. "What about the symbol? Any luck?"

"Yup," Dean flips through his book for a second, "turns out it's Zoroastrian. Very, very old-school. Like 2,000 years before Christ. It's a sigil for a daeva."

"What's a daeva?"

"It translates to 'demon of darkness'," Campbell interrupts. 

"They're savage, animalistic, nasty attitudes -- like demonic pit bulls." 

"How do you know that?" Sam asks. 

"You're not the only paper turner around here, Sammy," Dean smirks.

"He called Caleb!" Campbell shouts. "Dad's friend from Wyoming or something."

"Anyways these daevas -- they have to be summoned," Dean brings the focus away from his white lie. 

"So there's someone controlling it?" Sam suggests. 

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying. From what I can gather, it's pretty risky business too. These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them... And the arms, and the torsos, and the-"

"Okay! We get it," Campbell flops back into the pillows. 

"What do they look like?" the middle child questions. 

"Nobody's seen them for a couple of millennia," the blonde answers, "something that old, that demonic, somebody really knows their stuff. We've gotta major player in town."

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇Where stories live. Discover now