Capri Coleman was a normal girl, getting ready to graduate college when her life fell apart. Her close friend died in a mysterious fire, she learns that her family's death from years ago might not be what she always thought, and she is thrown into t...
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"No, Dad was in California last we heard from him," Sam told whoever he was on the phone with as he sat on his bed in this stupid, cheap motel we had. "We just thought...he comes to you for munitions. Maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks."
Dean's foot brushed my ankle as he shifted in his seat.
I rolled my eyes, tapping my fingers against the tabletop as I tore my eyes off of the journal in my lap. I took the cherry flavored lollipop from my mouth. "The hell are you playing footsie for?"
He flipped the page of his father's journal, though his eyes were trained on the one in my hand that I had yet to put down from over a week ago. "I'm not."
"Just call us if you hear anything," Sam said before hanging up.
"Caleb hasn't heard anything?" Dean asked.
"No. Neither has Jefferson or pastor Jim. What about the journal, anything in there?"
Dean shook his head. "Nah. Same as last time I looked."
"It's not going to magically appear," I pointed out, placing the lollipop back in my mouth as I rolled my eyes at him.
"Nothing I can make out," he continued, shooting me a look. "I love the guy, but he writes like Yoda." He chuckled, shaking his head slightly.
"Careful, one may start to think you're in love with your father," I remarked.
Dean gave me a bored look. "Oh, fuck off." He leaned forward, reaching out and taking the lollipop from me before placing it in his own mouth.
I kicked his knee. "That was mine, you gross jerk."
"Yeah, well..."
"Maybe we should call the feds, file a missing persons," Sam said.
Dean looked up at his brother with what was now a common-place bored look on his face. "We talked about this," he said. "Dad would be pissed if we put the feds on his tail."
"I don't care anymore," Sam replied as a phone began to ring.
Dean dropped his father's journal onto the table as he stood. He took the lollipop from his mouth, reaching out to knock his knuckle against the side of my jaw. "Here."
"I don't want that anymore. It was in your mouth." As if his tongue hadn't been down my throat a week ago.
"Take it."
"No—" As my mouth formed the word, he placed the candy on my tongue.
"Thank you for cooperating for once." He walked off to find said ringing phone.
