The Search for John Winchester

20) Dead Man's Blood

Percy had a weird feeling. He knew something was about to go down. He wasn't sure what, but he knew it was gonna be a bit different from their usual. That's why, as they sat in a cafe, he glanced around them, unmoving. Dean flipped through a newspaper, glancing at Percy every few moments, while Sam clicked away at his laptop.

"Well dude," Dean folded the paper. "Not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What've you got?"

"Well, I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota," Sam said. "Here. A woman fell 10,000 feet from an airplane and survived."

"Sounds more like 'that's incredible' that, uh, 'Twilight Zone'."

"Yeah."

Dean smirked, "Hey you know we could just keep heading east. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh? Cool chick man, smokin'." He whistled. "You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?"

"Yeah, I dunno, maybe someday," Sam shrugged. "But in the meantime we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that."

"Yeah all right," Dean sighed. "What else you're got?"

"Ahh, man in Colorado, local man named Daniel Elkins, was found mauled in his home."

"Elkins? I know that name," Dean said, and Percy groaned. He supposed that the plot had to introduce itself sometimes, and what better way than Dean recognizing a common last name.

"Doesn't ring a bell," Percy said, hoping to get out of whatever was coming next.

"Elkins... Elkins... Elkins..." Dean muttered beneath his breath.

"Sounds like the police don't know what to think," Sam said, reading the article more. "At first they said it was some sort of bear attack and now, they've found some signs of robbery."

"Mm-hmm," Dean started flicking through John's journal, and Percy groaned again. "There, check it out." He handed the journal to Sam and pointed. 'D Elkins 970-555-0158' Daniel Elkins'.

"You think it's the same Elkins?" Sam questioned.

"Most likely," Percy muttered. "When is it ever just a coincidence? You know what, I think the god of coincidences hates me."

"It's a Colorado area code," Dean said, ignoring Percy's comment.

***

Sam picked the lock to Elkins' cabin at night, then pushed the door open. Dean held the flashlight, and Percy just frowned. He really didn't feel like doing any work.

Dean looked around, "Looks like the maid didn't come today." It was a mess. Papers scattered everywhere, and it looked like there was a struggle.

"Hey, there's salt over here," Percy said, nodding downwards. "Right beside the door."

Dean picked up a journal off the floor and began flicking through it, "You mean protection against demon salt, or 'oops I spilled the popcorn' salt."

"It's clearly a ring," Percy said. "You think this guy Elkins was a player?"

"Definitely," Dean stared down at the journal, frowning.

Sam and Percy walked up behind Dean and looked at the journal, " That looks a hell of a lot like Dad's." Percy flinched, and moved closer to Dean. Sam grimaced at the accidental slip of the word.

"Yep, except this dates back to the 60s," Dean nodded.

Percy blinked suddenly, his senses on overload. This happened sometimes, in moments of stress. Either he had a reason to be stressed (such as a monster was watching him) or he didn't (he was remembering a monster watching him). He figured it was the latter, especially after Sam's little slip up. He glanced around quickly, then sighed. PTSD sucked.