Maddison Winchester: Journal 6 {Supernatural} (Editing)

14 Unforgiven: Part 1

January 18th – January 21st, 2012

Sam and I waited at the motel for Dean to get back. Dean walked in to see Sam sitting on the couch, awestruck by Mel Gibson's trial on the news.

"What are you watching?" Dean asked us as he walked into the room with food.

Sam shrugged. "Just trying to catch up." Then he turned off the TV. "So... Mel Gibson really took a turn this past year, huh?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Or he's possessed." He nodded and tossed a burrito to Sam and me. "Seriously, think about it." He took off his jacket and sighed. "So, I just got off the blower with Bobby."

"Oh, yeah?" Sam asked, "You got anything else on this, uh, 'Mother of All' thing?"

Dean shook his head and sat at the table, bringing his food with him. "Uh, no, nothing solid. He says it's quiet."

When Sam's phone rang, he stood and walked over to it. "Quiet like quiet or quiet like too quiet?"

"When is it ever just quiet?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded and turned on his phone. "Right." Then he read his text with a furrowed brow. "Hmm."

"What?" Dean and I asked in unison.

Sam tossed the phone to Dean, and I walked over and looked over his shoulder. There were just coordinates on the screen.

"What are these coordinates?" Dean asked.

"Who's it from?" I asked.

Sam shook his head. "I have no idea." He flipped open his laptop and started working on where the coordinates led to.

Dean and I had just finished our meal when his laptop beeped.

"Well?" Dean asked.

"Uh, Bristol, Rhode Island." Sam swung the laptop around to face us. "Where three women disappeared in the last week. Apparently..." He turned the laptop back to himself and clicked a few buttons. "The, uh, victims seemed to vanish into thin air."

Dean paused for a moment before nodding. "Could be something. Who's the text from?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. It just kept ringing."

"What's that about?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "Could be another hunter looking for backup, throwing us a case?" He shrugged. "Who knows how many hunters I even met, working with the Campbells, ya know? But I think we should go."

"Whoa, wait," Dean said. "We're just gonna drop everything—"

Sam smirked. "Dude, two minutes ago, you weren't doing anything."

Dean raised his hand in protest. "You got mysterious coordinates from a mysterious Mr. 'X,' leading to a mysterious town? That doesn't throw up red flags to you?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe. But that doesn't mean we can just ignore a bunch of missing girls." He raised his eyebrows. "Right?"

Dean hesitated and then nodded. "Okay. We'll check it out. But if things get squirrelly, we dump out, okay?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When we finally drove by the Welcome to Bristol sign around midnight, Sam took a deep breath and fidgeted uncomfortably.

"What?" Dean asked, a little concerned.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing."

Dean gave me a worried look in the rearview mirror before returning his attention to the road.