Roads of Reckoning

Asylum

April 2006
Sam hangs up the phone, exasperated.
"Caleb hasn't heard from him?" Dean asks .
Sam shakes his head
"Nope. And neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Any leads in there?"
"No, same as the last time I checked. Nothing I can make out...I love the guy but he writes like friggin Yoda."
"You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person's." Sam suggests.
"We've talked about this. Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail."
"I don't care anymore."

I'm sitting on the bed across from the two. It's tense as i flit my eyes between them.
Dean's cellphone rings from across the room.
"After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean...he should've been there, Dean. You said so yourself. You tried to call him and nothing." Sam says.
"I know!" He snaps as he rummages through his duffel bag.
"Where the hell is my cellphone?"
Sam pauses for a moment.
"You know, he could be dead for all we know."
Dean snaps his head in his brother's direction.
"Don't say that! He's not dead! He's-he's~"
"He's what? He's hiding? He's busy."

Dean finds his cell and flicks it open.
"I don't believe it." He says quietly.
"What?" I ask.
"It's a text message. It's coordinates."
I get off the bed and cross to the table. Opening up the laptop.

As I enter the coordinates, Sam quizzes Dean.
"You think Dad was texting us?"
"He's given us coordinates before."
"The man can barely work a toaster, Dean."
I chuckle slightly at this.
"Sam, it's good news! It means he's ok, or alive at least."
"Well is there a number on the caller ID?"
"Nah it said unknown."
Sam stands behind me.
"Where do the coordinates point Dem?"
"Rockford, Illinois." I pull up an article.
"Take a look at this. This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum."
Sam tilts his head.
"Ok, I'm not following. What has this got to do with us?"
Dean pulls the journal over.
"Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal. Let's see...Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths ~ till last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go."
Sam snorts in disapproval.
"It's a job. Dad wants us to work a job."
"Well maybe we will meet up with him? Maybe he's there?"
"Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there by ourselves, to hunt this thing."
"Who cares! If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!"
"This doesn't strike you as weird? The texting? The coordinates?"
"Sam! Dad's tellin us to go somewhere, we're going."

•——————————————————————-•
I stand next to Dean in a bar.
"You're Daniel Gunderson. You're a cop right?" Dean asks the man sitting in front of us.
Gunderson nods.
"I'm uh, Nigel Tufnel, the Chicago Tribune and this is my partner. Mind if we ask you a couple of questions, about your partner?"
"Yeah I do." He grunts. "I'm just trying to have a beer here."
"That's ok, I swear it won't take that long. I just want to get the story in your words."
Gunderson gestures to the chair next to where I stand.
"A week ago, my partner was sitting in that chair. Now he's dead. You gonna ambush me here?"
"Sorry, but I need to know what happened."

Sam approaches the table and pushes Dean aside roughly.
"Hey buddy, why don't you leave the poor guy alone! The man's an officer! Won't don't you show a little respect."
Dean looks at me and we walk outside.
We reach the Impala and Dean is pouring slightly.
"Did that hurt your ego?" I ask snidely, leaning against the car.
He glares at me, crossing his arms.
"No! He just didn't have to push me that hard."
I chuckle.

After about an hour, Sam comes out of the bar, a satisfied look on his face.
"Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy." Dean spits.
"I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting." Sam replies smugly.
A confused look spreads across Dean's face and I laugh.
Sam shakes his head. "Nevermind."
"What did you find out about Gunderson?" I ask.
"So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him."
"What about at home?"
"He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but he was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids."
"Alright, so either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to burst out, or something else did it to him." Dean suggest.
"What did Gunderson tell you about the asylum?"
"A lot."