. . . ⇢🦋 ˗ˏˋ CHAPTER 30 THE RETURN OF JOHN WINCHESTER
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MANNING, COLORADO
: ̗̀🦋➛EVANGELINE FOLLOWED IN CLOSE BEHIND SAM AND DEAN, FLASHLIGHT IN HAND AND EYES PEELED. It was hard to see with the house covered in shadows, but she followed shifted close to Dean following his lead as he pushed the door open with a soft creak.
The older hunter held out a flashlight stepping in the rusted cabin first. It had been a couple of days since the trio had bid Sarah goodbye, and while they had trouble finding a case, they were now following after Elkins. A man who had not only been a friend of John Winchester's but was reportedly mauled to death with some rather vague and suspicious details concerning his passing.
As Dean flashed his light around, she couldn't help but notice how dirty the home was. Papers littered the floor alongside open books that engulfed the ground in piles. Some of them laid on the spine while others were laid flat on the crispy paper.
It was a rather beautiful organized chaos that reminded Evangeline of her sister, who couldn't keep her room clean for her life of her.
Dean wandered about while Evangeline and Sam stuck to the door.
Upon the feeling of something under her shoes, she bent down, Sam followed beside her, both the hunters eyeing a ring of salt that remained on the oak floor boards.
“There's salt over here inside the door” Sam alerted his brother, who looked up curiously upon the words.
“What kind of salt? I just dropped the popcorn salt or protection against demons salt”.
“The latter” she muttered, eyeing the carefully placed ring.
“You think this guy Elkins was a player”? Sam asked as he stood upright. The raven haired huntress followed his action.
“Definitely” Dean's eyes were focused on a brown leather journal on the counter. It looked very similar to John Winchester's with papers sticking out and a beaten cover.
Sam and Evangeline peeked over his shoulder, eying the sceibles of ink on the old frail pages.
“Looks like dad's,” Sam murmured.
“Except this dates back to the 80s”.
The trio continued through the house, the other rooms looking just as messy with more books sprawled on the ground, a book case knocked over in one of the rooms and dust prowling almost every corner.
“Whatever attacked him there was more than one” Sam notes.
“Looks like he put up a hell of a fight too” Evangeline whispered.
“Yeah”.
Odd objects scrambled the floor, a broken candle, loose papers, thumb tacks, and paper weights.
