𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛[𝙳.𝚆]

053

"Dude, you fugly."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, honey." I tell Dean with a pat on his back. I look away from the creepy scarecrow we've been staring at and take in the mass of red, orange, and yellow leaves surrounding us. I catch sight of a wooden ladder and walk towards it. As I drag the ladder towards the scarecrow, I pray it's sturdy enough.

"Try not to fall through." Dean jokes.

"Shaddup." I grumble as I step up the ladder. When I get to the second to last step, I closely observe the scarecrow, brows knitted. I follow the spread out trail of stitching that's across its face."It's even creepier up close." I tell Dean. Just then, I feel the ladder wobble and I yelp, quickly gripping the sides of it, holding onto dear life. "Dean!" I shout angrily and he only laughs loudly, holding onto his stomach. "Just wait till I get off this thing." I hiss out venomously.

"I couldn't help myself. You were so focused." He says between laughs.

"Haha." I dryly laugh, rolling my eyes."What a child." I huff. I start to look back towards the scarecrow but quickly look back and point a finger at Dean. "Don't even think about it." He throws his hands up in surrender with a small smirk. I narrow my eyes at him.

Carefully, I look away from him and to the scarecrow. My gaze lowers down to its arm when I catch a shiny sickle in its hand. Then I see something on his arm.

"Dean, hand me those papers again." I tell him, sticking my hand out behind me as I keep an eye on the tattoo that's on the scarecrow's arm.

Not questioning me, Dean pulls them out of his jacket and hands them over as he walks up next to me. I open up the folded paper and put it side by side with the scarecrow's arm, eyes darting between the two.

"Look familiar?" I ask Dean. He looks at me impressed.

"Huh, nice catch, Holmes."

We drive back to the perfect little town, multiple theories floating around the air as we throw around different ones. Pulling up to the gas pump that's next to that convenience store we left from earlier, a girl was there waiting with a gas tank in her hand.

"Your back." She announces as we step out of the Impala. When I get a closer look at her I realize that she was the same girl who was carrying those boxes in the store.

"Never left." Dean replies.

"You guys still looking for your friends?"

"Yeah, sadly." I sigh, leaning on the door once I close it.

"You mind filling it up, there, uh, Emily?" Dean juts his chin to his car. She smiles with a nod and goes to grab the gas pump. I turn my body slightly to look at Dean and nod at him. "So, did you grow here?" He asks curiously as Emily crouches down to reach the gas cap.

"I came here when I was thirteen." She answers, getting up once the gas started filling up. "I lost my parents—car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in." She explains.

"They seem like nice people." I tell her.

"Everybody's nice here." She smiles at me happily with a shrug. She clearly hasn't met Scotty. I squint my eyes a bit as I observe her, nodding. She seemed genuine enough.

"So, what, it's thee, uh, perfect little town?" Dean asks.

"You know, it's the boonies, but I love it. I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here...it's almost like we're blessed." She looks back and forth between us.