Lightkeeper /Destiel//Sabriel//Michifer

Cool It, Winchester

Monday came around all too swiftly and, as the weather forecast had predicted, the town of  Sioux Falls was encased in a thin layer of blinding white snow.  The rays of the early morning sun reflected off in every direction, creating dappled puddles of glowing light.  Overhead, dark clouds were rolling in and, as the temperature was already well below freezing, held the prospect of more snow.

The fire in the Winchester household roared into life as Sam stooped down to throw another log on.  The central heating had already kicked in, but the sight of a fire was enough to warm anyone through twice over. 

Standing up, Sam reached for his mug of coffee and took another sip.  The liquid tasted bitter and sharp, but it served to at least begin to wake him up.  Sam had almost finished his drink when Dean entered the room and began looking around with furrowed eyebrows.

"You seen Benny?"  Dean asked, looking across at his brother, "He wasn't there when I woke up."

Sam shrugged, "Maybe he went out."

"It's six o'clock, Sammy," Dean stated, as if making some sort of point.

"I don't know then," Sam yawned.  "Ask Elsa."

"You could at least act like you care," Dean muttered, turning to go back upstairs.

Sam sighed heavily, attempting to ignore the memory that was trying to fight its way back to him.

~~

The room was in complete chaos. Draws had been left wide open, their contents having been thoroughly searched through, and an array of weapons had been scattered carelessly across the stained sofa. On the table, over which a younger girl was stooped, newspaper clippings had been arranged in a methodical web, scruffy annotations and arrows scribbled messily around each block of text.

"You could at least act like you care," Dean scolded, forcefully tugging open a draw as he searched through the motel room for the missing sheet of paper. 

"Dean," Sam was raising his voice now, "It's not as if—"

"As if what?  People are dying, Sam!"  Dean yelled, turning sharply to face his brother, who'd now gotten up from sitting on the bed, causing several sheets of paper to fall to the ground.

"I get that, Dean, really, I do.  But that's not our fault, and you know what?  I'm pretty damn sure it's not to do with some vampire, okay?"

Dean forced a smile, "Okay, Sammy, alright, what about this then?"  Grabbing a fistful of newspaper, Dean thrust it angrily at his brother.  "What does that say, then?  'Three dead...victims all girls under the age of 21...minimal wounds but missing large volumes of blood.'  But that could be anything, right?"

"Yes, actually!"  Sam yelled, disregarding the crumpled piece of newspaper.

"Fine.  You stay here then," Dean's voice was now dangerously calm, "You finish your homework or find a nice book to read.  Elsa and I are going to go and actually do our jobs." Not giving Sam sufficient time to respond, Dean swept up his duffel bag and threw open the motel room door.  Cold air instantly rushed inside as Sam watched his brother disappear into the dim twilight. 

Looking back into the room, Sam stared as Elsa slid off the chair she'd been sitting in, took a knife from the table and carefully tucked it into the back of her jeans. 

"Seriously?" 

Elsa looked up at her brother who now looked more resigned than angry.  She gave him a small smile and left the motel, quietly closing the door behind her.