Drowning in Nightmares- A Supernatural Fanfiction

The Heart Attack

"Find anything yet?"

Dean cracks open a beer bottle and sits across from me.

"It's like the Djinn's cousin from Hell." I explain, "Shows your regrets, nightmares."

"But why?"

"Its harder for it's victims to break away from the trance, I assume, but there really isn't any solid reason."

"Djinns are serious business" Dean warns me, as if I didn't nearly decapitate his ass on a Djinn hunt last month. "I'm aware" I point out as I place my backpack next the pull out couch.
The drive was short, a little under two hours, and we still had about an hour of day light left.

 As Sam, decked out in FBI gear, went to speak to the wife of a Mr. Kadent, the first victim, Dean and I went to get information from the locals.

The air was cool. There was potential for liveliness in the downtown streets, but the world around us seemed in a daze of fear. 

We found a run down diner eventually, which attracts Winchester brothers like a magnet. Dean and I made our way through the dimly lit eatery and we both sat at the breakfast bar. 

I have always loved places like this, where time seems to stand still. Apart from the air outside, full of missing posters and harsh winds, people lived in places like this. Actually lived, not like where you sleep and shower, but where you laugh and cry and learn. There was a whole new fucking atmosphere inside a place that sells a bacon breakfast special called "The Heart Attack" 24 hours a day. Incredible.

The woman who took our order wore yesterday's eyeliner and smoker's breath like a professional. Her eyes said a kindness the rest of her appearance rebelled against. I liked her.

She asked what brought us to town, because we stuck out like a sore thumb surrounded by bikers and zombie like workers. The easiness in which Dean could lie fascinated me. I was his kid, we were travelling, decided to spend the night here.
He said he heard about some disappearances over the last two weeks, and asked if she had as well. She couldn't help identify much, as in possible motives or hidden details not worthy of the papers, but she gave us a location. A location in which all the disappearances seemed to be based around. We thanked her, tipped well, and headed to the center of danger like the idiots we are.