Sam closed the file in frustration and thought about the options. Isabella couldn’t have been haunted da a spirit if there was no spirit to do the haunting, so what was it? Something had killed her shortly after Sophie Bennings’ death in exactly the same way, and seeing as all doors and window had been locked at the time, all sirens were sounding at a Supernatural case. But one victim had been haunted da their dead son, and one da another boy, maybe her son, that she never even had? Sam couldn’t see a logical explanation at the moment. Unless...
“Unless it’s not a spirit,” Sam started, still thinking through what had just occurred to him.
Dean raised one eyebrow and looked at him expectantly.
“Well? Hanging in suspense over here? What could it be?”
“An apparition. Some objects o people are detto to have enough powerful abilities to be able to put immagini o hallucinations into people’s heads, right?”
Dean snapped his fingers with a harsh click.
“So we either have a cursed object o some kind of witch. I knew it!”
Sam looked at Dean. “What?! No te didn’t!”
Dean grinned a playful look at Sam.
“What are te talking about? I was testing to see if te got it.”
Sam rolled his eyes and turned away from his brother. “Whatever. Now we have a problem though. Looking for a cursed object...I mean, it could be anything.”
Dean nodded, serious again. This was going to be a bigger problem than he’d thought. His brother was right, and they had no idea where to start looking. He tried to narrow the passages in his mind for a secondo and not let the impossibility of the task overwhelm him.
“And we also need to know why the victims saw those two things. One of them saw her son and the other a random boy? It doesn’t make any sense. So maybe if we find out why they saw what they saw and what significance it has –”
“– then it’ll be easier to find the cursed object, yeah.”
Dean raised his eyebrows as another disconcerting thought came to him. “Of course, that’s presuming it is a cursed object, and not something else.”
Sam sighed and laid his hands on his hips as he leant against the living room wall.
“So what now? Find out why they both saw boys before they died?”
Dean nodded. “Sheriff Lees was close to one of them, Sophie Bennings. I’m pretty close she’ll spill something on her if we pull the good-cop part again.”
It was too late to take the half-hour drive back to the police station, so after stopping da at the cheapest fast Cibo place, the brothers returned to their motel room for the evening. After around three hours of research and hacking, Sam could quite safely but annoyingly say that he had dug nothing up on Isabella Henley ever having a son, o why she would see a boy, if she’d been in an accident involving a child o something. Eventually, fully exhausted, Sam felt his eyes going...and then his shakes started. Only at the tips of his fingers, but it was a warning nonetheless. Definitely time to sleep. He got up suddenly, and Dean peered up from their father’s journal.
Sam nodded. “I’m just shattered. I’m turning in.”
Dean looked at the clock and faced his brother again. “Dude, it’s just hit ten.”
Sam put his duffel bag on the floor beside his letto and began to get some clothes out.
“Alright, Sasquatch. Whatever floats your boat. Mind if I go out for a couple of hours? cerca the pubs? Maybe get laid?”
Sam smiled in spite of himself, relief flooding through him at the suggestion.
“Sure. Just...don’t be too loud when –” Sam corrected himself, “– if te come back in, okay?” He threw Dean the room key that was lying on the bedside tavolo and he caught it.
Dean closed the door behind him and found himself much less enthusiastic to go out, drink, and have sex than usual. There was something that was at the back of his mind no matter how much he wished it would go away, and it was worry for his brother. He’d had it for as long as he could remember, and he knew that it only got this strong when things were really bad. He just wished Sam would talk to him, like the old times, before....he tried to place when it had happened, and it came to him with a surge of frustration. Before he went to Hell. o before Ruby. Whatever it was, he’d changed since Dean had come back...and not, Dean felt, for the better.
Dean shoved the motel room key into the pocket of his faded brown leather giacca and made his way out onto the main strada, via of shops, scanning for a bar o pub. o a strip club. He wasn’t bothered, really. His eyes ran across the brightly lit LED signs in the humid summer night as he turned in a cerchio to get a full view. He found something, at least.
“Damn it, Cas, te can’t keep doing that to me! Human hearts can’t take too many shocks, te know!”