Forks Motel

After they had got themselves a room, Sam had just collapsed on the couch and ordered pizza. He plugged in his computer and waited for it to load. It had been a long journey of about a day, and even though he had slept, he was tired of travelling - one of the other reasons why he didn't come with them. A normal life wasn't moving around all the time.

The room was cheep, average and they probably could have afforded better, but even though the credit card Dean had probably used was fraud, he didn't like to spend unnecessarily.

Dean pushed open the door, a few bags from the Impala slung over his shoulder. The motel was better then the one that he and his dad had stayed at the other week, before he went missing. This one was relatively well maintained in comparison, even if it was a little gaudy in its decoration. The bedspreads were a leafy pattern in shades of pink, the walls white adorned with a few ancient looking paintings of the scenary of the Olympic Peninsula.

He threw the bags down onto the nearest bed, before sinking onto it. He was tempted to go to sleep then and there, but Sam had ordered a pizza, and he was determined to steal some of it.

It was too late to start looking for their dad now, seeing as it was eight o'clock, and already dark, the rain thudding heavily against the window. There was not really much to be done, other then get on with any research they could do in the motel room - namely looking stuff up on Sam's laptop, and looking through their dads journal for anything that could possibly have a connection to whatever it was that was taking these people.

"You having any luck with that laptop of yours?" Dean asked, eying Sam from the other side of the room.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing new. Nothing strange. Nothing out of the ordinary. Apart from that wolf and the red haired woman."

He looked up at Dean. "Hey, you don't have anything else, do you? Like any actual proof that dad hasn't gone after them himself. Maybe... his journal?" That would be a good thing to have - since if their dad had gone after whatever it was, he would have some information about it.

Dean reached over for one of the duffel bags. "Yeah, I have actually," he said, going through the contents till he got to the worn down journel of his fathers. The pages sticking out were yellowing with age, a lot of them with coffee stains. Dean opened it up, flicking through the pages of printed out photos and newspaper clippings to a page entitled 'forks: animal attacks'.

"He left it at our motel, before he disappeared," Dean added as he scanned the page that he had already read a million times before. It had pictures of the animals, the teeth marks in their necks circled, their father having scribbled in the fact that they had been drained of blood. The dates had been listed depicting when these attacks of this description had happened, and they went back for about two years, though it had happened for similar time periods speriodically over the century.

Dean held the page open, facing in Sam's in direction so that he could see it. "This is what we got," he told Sam, "Dates of the animals deaths. The missing persons thing didn't really start when he and his dad had been in town, just these weird, semi regular animals deaths.

Sam flicked through the pages, looking down the long list of both missing people, animal attacks, and where the attackings were towards the animals. He shook his head. "No. This isn't right, Dean. Why would dad have just left is journal? He takes it everywhere with him..."

Something wasn't right about their dad going missing - something bigger had to be going on around this small town, and somehow their dad had just disappeared right in the middle? And it had to have been pretty big to get hold of their dad. "Whatever's going on here... if it was able to take dad... it's gotta be big."

Someone knocked at their door. Sam looked back down at the papers and then stood up, going to answer it.

Sam had a point, their dad never did go anywhere without his journal, though that fact had not gone unnoticed by Dean when John Winchester had disappeared. It had scared the hell out of him, and the fact that the journal was not with his father had pretty much confirmed the fact that his father was missing for good.

Dean looked up at the door. Who would be calling them at this time? It was 8, and there was no one that he could think of that could be calling in on at them at this time. Sam didn't hesitate in going over to answer it unarmed, which worried Dean. They were in a town that clearly had some bad stuff going on, whatever it was had been powerful enough to take out their dad. Had Sam really lost all of his hunter instincts from before Stanford.

Dean's hand unconsciously went to the silver knife occupying the same space as the journal.

Sam glanced at Dean before opening the door, hearing the small sound of movement and he caught sight of the knife. "Dude, it's clearly the pizza guy." He laughed, opening the door.

"$15." said the bored looking guy holding a pizza box. Sam looked back at Dean and laughed again. He must have been pretty tired to get so paranoid about a simple knock at the door. He looked back and paid the guy.

The box barely reached the table before two slices had gone. Sam was hungry, and he wasn't going to be elegant about it, especially if Dean was the only other person in the room. It was the best thing he'd tasted all day.

Dean put the knife back, looking away, a little embarressed "Oh, yeah," he said. What Sam said was soon backed up when he opened the door, revealing the pizza delivery guy. Dean watched on as Sam paid for the pizza, and walked over to the table.

Dean pushed himself off the bed, walking over to join Sam at the table. He took a piece, hopefully pretty discretely. He wasn't that hungery, but none the less appreciated the warm, cheesy taste as he bit in.

"So," Dean started, and paused, mulling over what to say, "This pizzas good."

Sam didn't reply properly, too hungry. "Mmm-hmm." he answered, finishing his second slice. He hadn't eaten all day, so damn it, he was going to finish this pizza. So he grabbed his third slice.

Dean continued eating his first slice at a slower rate than at which Sam was eating at. He hadn't had pizza in way too long, usually just sticking with diner food and pie.

He flicked through their dads journal with his free hand, while he was eating. From what he could see, there was very little in there that could match up to the description of the women with red hair. The wolves could be a number of things, varying from just a normal wolf to Grim or shapeshifter.

Noticing Dean going through the journal, Sam added when his mouth wasn't full, "Could be some vengeful spirit - deathly pale, speed - seems to fit."

It could be that, although the killings and missing persons would need to be connected, unless the spirit was just plain angry. "Could have been killed by a vampire, so now doing the same to others?"

It seemed that Sam wasn't so out of practice after all. His idea's weren't half bad. He seemed to have retained his knowledge of the various supernatural beings. Obviously college didn't wipe that away.

"It could be," Dean conceded, inclining his head to the side, "Though the vampire would only explain the missing persons, and not the animals, and if it is a ghost then there's got to be something tying it to the area, and a reason behind why it's killing." He frowned, and turned back to the pages on Forks, "We should head out to the library and the police department tomorrow, see if there's any recorded violent deaths in the area, paranormal sightings."

Sam finished his third slice. "And..." he gave Dean a hopeless look. "Check out the bodies."

Sam had never really been into faking IDs and going down to see the remains of the outbursts of whatever it was they were really searching for. It wasn't pleasant to see, and knowing that it was of the work of something that shouldn't even exist... That was the worst part of the research.

"Yeah, that as well," Dean said, nonplussed, "looks like we'll be heading down to the morgue in the morning." This talk of research was definitely improving his mood. It seemed that the more research they did, the closer they were to potentially finding their dad.

Dean stifled a yawn, blinking his eyes, which were beginning to droop shut. As good as it was to know they were making progress, it was making him feel tired, reminding him of the fact that he had barely slept since yesterday. Pressing his eyes shut, and then opening them, he tried to concentrate on the journal, skimming through the pages.

As Dean began to show signs of tiredness Sam was on his tail again. "Dean, go to bed. I'll carry on with this - I've been sleeping all day."

He hoped that Dean wouldn't ignore him and actually go to sleep. He looked worn out after all, having had to drive to Stanford and then drive to Forks, with barely a few hours sleep at that other motel on the road. As much as Dean wanted to find their dad, he couldn't mess up over it.

Dean considered Sam's offer for a moment, but shook his head, "It's only 9, I'll go crash in an hour. We need to figure this one out." He could hardly abandon Sam to research, especially as doing so would mean that it would be difficult to keep track of whether or not Sam got any sleep.

He looked back down at the journal, flicking through the pages and not really taking anything in. He frowned as the words refused to focus. He squinted at them, so that he could just about read them. There did not appear to be anything in there that could be their mystery monster. A few things vaguely fit the pattern, but nothing seemed right. There was definitely something off about this.

Sam continued to watch Dean, who was making it a bit obvious he couldn't even make out the words any more that were written in the journal. "Seriously, man, go to bed." he repeated. "You've been driving all day, there's no point trying to think when you're this tired. It will never work."

It was true - Sam could just as easily research while Dean was asleep. No problem. Usually it was Sam doing the research and Dean hanging around, which was weird as now they'd swapped places. Dean was stubborn, too, though, and it took a while to change his mind. Time that Sam didn't really have.

"I'm fine, Sam, seriously," Dean replied, annoyed. He stubbornly looked back at the journal, forcing his eyes to stay open as he read though, "I'll go to bed when you do."

He really should get another coffee. That would make staying awake so much easier.

"Alright then." replied Sam, standing up, breaking his pizza vow. He was actually pretty tired. He stalked straight over to one of the beds and pulled back the covers.

"G'night, Dean." he said simply, before climbing into bed smiling slightly awaiting his brothers protests. It was, after all, a Saturday night.

"You're going to bed already, man, seriously?" Dean asked in disbelief, raising his eyebrows, "It's barely gone nine, you can't seriously want to go to bed already. You've been sleeping all day."

It looked like Sam wasn't going to change his mind though, and disregarding what he said earlier about going to sleep when Sam did, he continued researching on his own.

Yeah, sure. I'll go to bed when you go, Sammy,,, like that would ever have happened. Sam turned over on his side, and grinned never the less, because it was his brother - Dean would certainly do something like this.

He closed his eyes, wondering how long it would take for sleep to overcome him. Dean was right - he had been sleeping all day, plus he had said it himself. So getting to sleep would probably take a while. He did however, get to sleep in a few minutes.

Sam was back in Stanford again. Inside the house, into his and Jess' room, Blood... blood.

Dean was starting to think that doing this research was pointless, he was having no more luck then before at finding anything, and he was getting increasingly tired by the second. At this rate it would probably be a better idea to follow Sam's example and get some sleep.

Just as he was about to do that, having already got up, he noticed Sam's face. His eyes were screwed shut, and he looked terrified, squirming around on the bed, his breaths coming quickly. Definitely not having a very peaceful sleep. It was like a repeat of the night before, but this time it seemed worse. Now he could practically see the dream physically manifesting itself in Sam. So much for this being a one off. He diverted his path, going to Sam instead.

"Come on, Sammy, wake up," he said, as he tried tapping at Sam's shoulders, getting a little more forceful when he had no luck in waking him.

Sam didn't wake up, or open his eyes. They were shut tight. "No!" he cried out, trying to push Dean away, "Leave her alone, just don't touch her!" he turned away, trying to squirm away from Dean, getting to the edge of the other side of the bed,

And then his eyes opened and he looked directly up at the ceiling, in short panicked breaths.

Sam was really starting to worry him now, still refusing to wake up, still locked inside his head. As Sam pushed him away, edging to the side of the bed, Dean grabbed hold of his arms, scared that he would fall off if he got any closer to the edge. It became clear to Dean pretty quickly that Sam was having the same dream as the night before, as soon as he mentioned 'her' who was presumably Jess.

As Sam opened his eyes, focusing on the ceiling, looking if possible worse then before, clearly terrified. Dean moved so that his face was in Sam's line of vision, trying to block out whatever it was up there that was freaking him out.

"Sammy," he called, trying to get his attention, get his mind off whatever had happened in that dream of his, "Relax, it was just a dream."

Sam stopped thrashing for a second and his eyes shut again, but he spoke again. "I'll kill you." he whispered, and then he shook his head, softly whimpering.

In his mind, Jess was dead. Everything had burned up - the whole place, leaving nothing behind - not even her body to bury, She was gone, forever. And it was the same thing that killed their mom.