Chapter Eighteen

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The One In Which They Finally Go On A Hunt

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My car only had one disc. A Beatles greatest hits compilation. My brother had found it in the boot of the car when we found it, I'd never bought another, the old songs reminded me of him and I didn't want to lose that. Of course, I didn't tell Dean that so he proceeded to complain for the entire trip.

"If you're just going to keep complaining you can walk," I stated, turning to glare at him.

He shifted in his seat and pressed the button to silence the music, "If I have to listen to those songs one more time..."

I sighed but didn't fight him instead I turned my attention back to the road until Sam piqued up.

"Was the case really this urgent?" He questioned, meeting my eyes in the rear view mirror.

"I don't know, if you don't think sixteen missing people in one week is urgent then I guess not," I replied, glaring at him.

He shrugged, "Maybe it's not our thing."

"I've got a feeling it is," I said, a lot less confident.

Dean's head swung around to me, "A feeling? We've been driving for eight hours because you've got a feeling?"

I nodded and pressed the button on the stereo to turn the music back on, signaling the end of the conversation. Dean sighed, turning to look back out the front window.

"Do you know what could be doing this?" Sam asked from the back seat, ever the diplomat.

I nodded, "It sounds like a Crocotta," I began, Dean turned back to me again, "The kids were all getting phone calls from an unregistered number."

Dean nodded, "Makes sense, how you gonna track it?"

"We are gonna track down where the phone calls were coming from," I said, putting emphasis on 'we'.

He nodded, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he leaned forward turning the music off again.

-

I groaned, leaning forward into my hands and slamming my laptop shut, "This is impossible, we've been at it for hours. I give up."

Dean chuckled at me and opened his mouth to say something before Sam cut him off.

"I've found it," he stated plainly. I jumped up running over behind him, leaning over his shoulder to read the screen.

"Where?" Dean asked, bored.

"Practically next door," Sam replied, showing me the address on a map.

"Fantastic," Dean stood, walking over to the bed and falling onto the mattress, "We'll go in the morning."

I nodded, yawning and stood walking toward my bag. I fell onto the couch putting my bag beside me and pulling out a small leather-bound journal.

"What's that?" Sam asked, nodding at the book in my hand.

I hesitated, biting my lip before deciding to tell him, "Samuel Colt's long lost journal."

His eyebrows arched in surprise, "Samuel Colt, as in the Colt, Samuel Colt?"

I chuckled, "Yep, the one and only."

"How? Where'd you find it?" He asked, staring enviously at the journal.

"I was given it," I began, he pursed his lips in confusion, "When I was a kid, I used to go to the library all the time and read about monsters and their lore. One day this woman gave me the journal, told me it'd be of better use to me."

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