Losing Lives / Book Six / The Life Series / Supernatural

Of Grave Importance

Parked out on a deserted street after dark, I was leaning against the hood of my car.

Dean carried a tray of take-out food toward me. "All right, here we go." He leaned on the hood next to me, handing out food. "You know... even though the world is going to crap, there's one thing that I can always count on. These things tasting the same in every drive-through in every state in our great nation." He took a bite of a taco. "Mm."

I chuckled.

A phone rang.

Dean patted his pockets, shaking his head.

I took out my phone, looking at the Caller ID, answering. "Annie."

"Hey, Ness."

"A nice surprise. How you been?"

"Oh, I'm still kicking. So, good, I guess. Heard about you and Dean Winchester. Now, there's a shock that you don't hear of everyday." I smiled a small smile. "Congratulations, kiddo."

"Thanks."

"Also heard about your dad. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me, too. What's up?"

"Well, I got some of his old books. I thought maybe you'd want them."

"Yeah. Sure. Where you at?"

"Bodega Bay. Crow's Nest Inn."

"You working?"

"Always. You anywhere nearby?"

"Near enough."

"Cool. Why don't we meet at the Pier Front Restaurant? Lunch?"

"1:00?"

"Yeah. Bring the boys along, okay?"

"Yeah, you can count on it."

I hung up.

~~~~~~  

The next day, Sam, Dean and I sat in the Pier Front Restaurant at a table, overlooking the pier.

I looked at the menu.

Dean was reading a newspaper. "Hey, get this. Dick Roman is funding another archaeological dig. Guy moves more dirt than 'The Drudge Report'."

"Well, any—anything on what he's digging for?" Sam asked.

"Don't you think I would have led with that?" Dean asked.

I sighed, looking at my watch. "Annie's not usually this late. Never. She's totally compulsive. I'll try her cell." I pulled out my phone. "You know, uh, you know she and my dad had a thing, right?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I knew that."

"Really?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," I answered. "Kind of a foxhole thing. Very Hemingway."

"All right, well..." Sam trailed off. "That happens."

Sam made a face.

"What, you, too?" I asked.

"Look, it was a while back," Sam told us. "We ended up on the same case." I put my phone to my ear, trying to call Annie. "She was stressed. I—I—I... I didn't... have a soul."

"That's a lot of foxholes," I told them, hanging up. "She's not answering. Well, here's to ghosts that aren't there."

I poured some whiskey from Dad's flask into his coffee mug.