Meet the Winchesters

Asylum

Sam, Dean, and you are in a motel in Dubuque, Iowa. Sam is sitting on one of beds, talking on the phone to an old friend of Dad's, Caleb. Dean is looking through the journal at a nearby table, and you are sitting across from him, just finishing a phone call with Pastor Jim.

"No, Dad was in California last we heard from him. We just thought...he comes to you for 'munitions...maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. Just call us if you hear anything," Sam sighs, looking up at the ceiling, "Thanks," Sam hangs up and places the phone on the bed next to him, then rubbing his face with his hands.

"Caleb hasn't heard from him?" Dean inquires, glancing up from the journal to eye Sam.

"Nope," Sam answers, looking over to you and Dean.

"Nothing from Jefferson or Pastor Jim either," you add, tapping your foot against the leg of the chair, a nervous tendency of yours.

"What about the journal?" Sam asks, looking at Dean hopefully, "Any leads in there?"

"No," Dean replies, sighing and flipping the worn book shut, "Same as last time I looked. Nothing I can make out...I love the guy, but I swear, he writes like friggin' Yoda."

"You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing persons," Sam proposes, picking up his phone and messing with it.

"No, Sam, we can't," you look over at your younger brother, "Dad would freak if he found out we sent the Feds after him. I mean, all of us have done some pretty illegal things, and if they found out..."

"I don't care anymore," Sam declares forcefully, as if he was daring you or Dean to disagree. Dean's cellphone rings from the other side of the room, so Dean stands up, crossing the small room the retrieve his phone. Sam continues his argument, "After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean...he should've been there. Both of you said that. I mean, Dean, you tried to call him and...nothing."

"I know!" Dean exclaims, rummaging through his duffel bag, "Where the hell is my cellphone?"

You snort, "Well, maybe if you were more organized..."

Dean glances over to you, "Shut it!"

Sam continues, ignoring the small spat you and Dean just had, "You know, he could be dead for all we know."

"Sam!" you exclaim, looking at your younger brother, "Don't say that! He's not dead, he's just, uh..."

"He's what?" Sam prompts, "He's hiding? He's busy?"

Dean finally locates his phone, pulling out of his duffel bag and then flicking it open, "Huh," Dean mumbles, "I don't believe it."

"What?" you and Sam question, turning to face Dean.

"It's, uh...It's a text message," Dean explains, looking up from his phone to you and Sam, "It's coordinates."

You reach across the table and grab the laptop. Opening it in front of you and searching for the program you and your brother's use for locating coordinates. Dean walks over to the table, pulling the laptop away from you and then sitting across from you. Sam stays on the bed, watching Dean curiously, "You think Dad was texting us?" Sam asks.

"He's given us coordinates before," Dean retorts, glancing up from the laptop to give Sam a pointed look.

"The man can barely work a toaster, Dean," Sam counters, frowning slightly at his older brother, "Come on (Y/N), back me up here."

"Sam, it's good news!" Dean cries, not giving you time to answer Sam, "It means he's okay, or alive at least."

"Okay, well, then was there a number on the caller ID?" you question, taking Sam's side in the argument, if the text wasn't from Dad, it could be a trap.