The Winchester Three (S1): The Beginning

Ch 1 Section 4

At the Sheriff's Office...

Angel whispered, shifting her cuffed hands as she turned to him. "Alright, so reach in the back of that criminal head of yours and figure out how we're getting out of this."

Dean scoffed, "Yeah right. You were the one that got arrested the most so that should fall on you."

Sheriff Pierce entered the room carrying a box and they silenced. He sets the box on the table where Dean and Angel are cuffed and goes around to sit across from them.

"So either of you want to give us your real name?"

"I told you, it's Nugent." Dean nodded, "Ted Nugent. That's my partner Clem Burke."

The Sheriff looks to Angel, "Come on sweetheart. You look like the smart one here." Dean bristled but she just raised a brow, the Sheriff took a breath shaking his head, "I'm not sure you two realize just how much trouble you're in here."

Dean leaned forward, "We talkin', like, misdemeanor kind of trouble or, uh, squeal like a pig trouble?"

"You got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall."

Angel looked over, "Squeal like a pig trouble for sure, little brother."

"Along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo." The Sheriff continued, "You three are officially suspects."

"Oh yes." Angel happily agrees, "The world's youngest female serial killer starts at age five, with her partner, a three year old toddler. Come on, law, you can do better than that."

"I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me... Dean. Angel." The Sheriff tosses a brown leather-covered journal on the table, "This his?"

The two stare at it, dumbfounded at why their dad would leave it behind as the Sheriff sits on the edge of the table, flipping through the journal: it's filled with newspaper clippings, notes, and pictures, just like what's on the walls of the motel room.

"I thought those might be your names. See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out- I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy." The two Winchesters leaned forward for a closer look, "But I found this, too." He opens the journal to a page that reads 'DEAN/ANGEL 35-111', circled, with nothing else on that page, "Now... The both of you are stayin' right here till one of you tells me exactly what the hell that means."

Dean stares down at the page before turning to stare at his sister.

"That's what your panties are bunched up about?" She laughed and shook her head, "Man, you need to unclench. That's our alarm code for our old place in Denver. Wrote it down so we wouldn't forget."

The Sheriff looked less than pleased at that answer but instead of commenting he got up and walked away. Hours ticked on and the Sheriff came by time and time again trying to get them to say what that number was.

Dean scoffs this time, "I don't know how many times we gotta tell you... It's our alarm code."

The Sheriff looked unconvinced, "We gonna do this all night long?"

"Evidentially yes." Angel shifts, "It's not our fault you don't like the answer."

A deputy leans into the room, "We just got a 911, shots fired over at Whiteford Road."

The Sheriff shot up then stopped to look at them, "Either of you have to go to the bathroom?" They shook their heads, "Good."

Without saying anything else he turned and took off, Angel turning with him scoffing. When she turned back, Dean was holding a paper clip that was poking out of John's journal making her grin. They quickly uncuffed themselves, grabbed their dad's journal, climbed down the fire escape and hauled ass to the nearest payphone. As soon as they were in Dean dialed Sam's number.

He smiled when he answered, "Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal."

"You're welcome."

"Sammy..." Angel squeezed into the booth next to Dean, "We gotta talk."

"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop."

Den rolled his eyes, "Sammy, would you shut up for a second?"

"I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet."

"Well, that's what we're trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho."

"What? How do you guys know that?"

Ange sighs, shifting, "Uh we've got his journal. He left it behind."

"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing."

"Yeah, well, we can't say that anymore. He really is MIA."

Sam quieted, "What's it say?"

Dean explained, "Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Coordinates? Where to?"

"We're not sure yet."

"I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job?" He scoffs, "Guys, what the hell is going on?"

On Sam's end, brakes squeaking to a stop sounded and then static and silence as the line went dead.

"Sam? Sam?!"