Supernatural Season Three: A Dean Winchester Love Story

Red Sky at Morning (3)

Red Sky at Morning (3)

Kylie's POV

"This is fun." I said, looking at one of my blades that I kept hidden in my boot, it was my emergency blade, one that I didn't get to use too often. I figured that while we were squatting in an old house, it was time to clean it up a bit.

"You have any other ideas?" Dean asked as he sat next to Sam who was researching lore.

"No, I'm just saying this is one of the boring parts of the job." I sat back in my chair, the wood creaking with my movement. 

There was a knock on the door, the three of us halting and staring at the flimsy wood that wouldn't protect any of us. 

No one moved from their spot. 

"Oh don't worry I'll get it!" I exclaimed in annoyance, pushing myself up to my feet. The boys looked at me with sheepish looks when I twisted the knob. I wasn't surprised to find out who our guest was. The British brunet looked down at me, her whole body language screaming with confidence and wealth.

"Dear . . . God." Bela rolled her eyes as she looked around. "Are you actually squatting? Charming." She took a step inside, looking around at the filth we were staying in. "So how'd things go last night with Peter?"

The three of us remained quiet, none of us wanting to admit defeat.

"That well, huh?" She asked sounding brutal, but her eyes showed remorse.

"If you say 'I told you so'. I swear to God I'll start swinging." Dean threatened from his chair, his hands fisting the rough wood of the edge of the table.

"Look," Bela started, "I think the four of us should have a heart-to-heart."

I raised a brow while Dean only snapped back with insults.

"That's assuming that you have a heart."

Bela frowned, a look of guilt taking over her face. It was surprising that she was still here, let alone how guilty she clearly felt. "Dean, please," Her voice was soft, close to begging, "I'm sorry about what I said before, okay? I come bearing gifts."

"Such as?" Sam questioned wearily.

I took a couple of steps around the table, circling the small group.

"I've ID'd the ship."

I halted my movement, my eyes staying on Bela as she pulled out a portfolio file. "It's the Espirito Santo," She glanced in my direction, "a merchant sailing vessel, quite a colorful history." She nodded.

I sat beside her as she pulled out pictures of the ship, it looked ghostly even when it was alive.

"In 1859 a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard ship in a kangaroo court and hanged." She bit her lip and tapped on the black and white phot before me. "He was 37."

"That would explain the 37 year cycle." Sam nodded.

"Aren't you a sharp tack." She taunted. "There's a photo of him somewhere . . .here" She flipped through her file before pulling out another black and white photo of a fisherman, one that we had seen before. 

"Isn't that the customer we saw last night?" Dean glanced between Sam and I.

I placed my elbows on the table and scrubbed a hand through my hair.

"You saw him?" Bela asked, her eyes wide.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, leaning back in his chair his boot crossing over his leg, "that's him, except he was missing a hand."