Read Online Supernatural--Cold Fire by John Passarella - Free Book Online
Authors: John Passarella
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there,” Sam said, pointing up and away. “All I know is, we keep looking for the answer. That’s what we do.”
“The lead’s worth checking,” Castiel said. “Until I find Cain, it’s the… best option.”
Dean guessed that he’d been about to say “only option” but that would’ve sounded too fatalistic. Last lead. End of the line. “Fine,” Dean said. “Nothing to lose, right?”
Castiel nodded, unable to hide his concern. “Either way, this won’t take long.”
“You know where to find us,” Dean said, pacing along the length of the table. At some point he’d pick up the scattered books and coffee mug shrapnel, but right then he had some pent-up anxiety to expend and pacing was definitely the better option.
Some justifiable frustration
, he assured himself,
no oncoming rage-a-thon, no trembling hands.
“I’ll be reading these same books again, working on my teetotaling ways.”
“Or not,” Sam said, navigating around the books on the floor to the neighboring library table, where he’d left his laptop to fix something to eat in the kitchen.
“What?”
“Let’s do something else,” Sam said, looking to Castiel for support. “Don’t get me wrong, the bunker’s great. But we’re underground here, no windows, staring at books or screens all day. Recipe for cabin fever, right?”
“Cabin fever,” Castiel said, supportive but waiting to see where Sam was going with his line of reasoning.
“So we stop looking for a cure,” Dean said. “And we go… out?”
“On a hunt,” Sam said, waking his laptop from sleep mode. “But, no, we don’t stop looking. Ever. We… take time to recharge.”
“On a hunt?”
“Yes,” Sam said. Then, acknowledging Dean’s skepticism, he continued, “Look, Dean, we can bang our heads against a locked door until we knock ourselves out. Or we take a step back, and notice a window open around the corner.” Sam paused, working the keyboard until he brought up the information he sought. “Let’s take time for a hunt. Then maybe we find a way to come at this from a new direction.”
“A valid suggestion,” Castiel chimed in.
“Sure,” Dean said. “Why not? We’ve done it before.”
Sam was right in one aspect. A hunt kept Dean’s mind off the impending doom the Mark represented. Work on a smaller, fixable problem, while the big problem simmered on a back burner. The time between hunts was what got to him. Sitting around with nothing to occupy his time or thoughts brought the big problem to the fore. The bunker may have been their safe zone, but it couldn’t protect them from themselves. With no outside threats to worry about, the only thing Dean thought about was the internal threat waiting to overwhelm him. Better to leave the sanctuary and face something that could be defeated than to sit underground in a quiet corner and wonder how much time he had left before Mr. Hyde kicked Jekyll to the curb and signed the long-term lease on his body and soul.
“What have you got?”
Sam spun the laptop around to Dean.
“Disembowelment murder,” Sam said. “Dave Holcomb, Braden Heights, Indiana. Wife comes back from a shopping trip, finds her husband gutted behind their toolshed.”
“Angry lawn gnome?” Dean said as he sat down in front of the laptop to read the news report.
Castiel came forward, looked over Dean’s shoulder.
“I know it’s not much,” Sam said. “Just the one incident. And other than the brutality of the—”
“Animal attack,” Dean said, pointing. “According to police.”
“Maybe, but—”
“Gouged out eyeballs,” Dean continued, not really ignoring Sam, just his hard-sell masquerading as a soft-sell. “That a message? Or a delicacy?”
Sam shrugged. “Let’s find out. You in?”
“I’m in.”
“I’ll join you,” Castiel said. “After I follow up on my lead.”
“Great,” Dean said as he picked up the scattered books. “Lot of irons in the cure-the-Mark fire. Unfortunately,
“The lead’s worth checking,” Castiel said. “Until I find Cain, it’s the… best option.”
Dean guessed that he’d been about to say “only option” but that would’ve sounded too fatalistic. Last lead. End of the line. “Fine,” Dean said. “Nothing to lose, right?”
Castiel nodded, unable to hide his concern. “Either way, this won’t take long.”
“You know where to find us,” Dean said, pacing along the length of the table. At some point he’d pick up the scattered books and coffee mug shrapnel, but right then he had some pent-up anxiety to expend and pacing was definitely the better option.
Some justifiable frustration
, he assured himself,
no oncoming rage-a-thon, no trembling hands.
“I’ll be reading these same books again, working on my teetotaling ways.”
“Or not,” Sam said, navigating around the books on the floor to the neighboring library table, where he’d left his laptop to fix something to eat in the kitchen.
“What?”
“Let’s do something else,” Sam said, looking to Castiel for support. “Don’t get me wrong, the bunker’s great. But we’re underground here, no windows, staring at books or screens all day. Recipe for cabin fever, right?”
“Cabin fever,” Castiel said, supportive but waiting to see where Sam was going with his line of reasoning.
“So we stop looking for a cure,” Dean said. “And we go… out?”
“On a hunt,” Sam said, waking his laptop from sleep mode. “But, no, we don’t stop looking. Ever. We… take time to recharge.”
“On a hunt?”
“Yes,” Sam said. Then, acknowledging Dean’s skepticism, he continued, “Look, Dean, we can bang our heads against a locked door until we knock ourselves out. Or we take a step back, and notice a window open around the corner.” Sam paused, working the keyboard until he brought up the information he sought. “Let’s take time for a hunt. Then maybe we find a way to come at this from a new direction.”
“A valid suggestion,” Castiel chimed in.
“Sure,” Dean said. “Why not? We’ve done it before.”
Sam was right in one aspect. A hunt kept Dean’s mind off the impending doom the Mark represented. Work on a smaller, fixable problem, while the big problem simmered on a back burner. The time between hunts was what got to him. Sitting around with nothing to occupy his time or thoughts brought the big problem to the fore. The bunker may have been their safe zone, but it couldn’t protect them from themselves. With no outside threats to worry about, the only thing Dean thought about was the internal threat waiting to overwhelm him. Better to leave the sanctuary and face something that could be defeated than to sit underground in a quiet corner and wonder how much time he had left before Mr. Hyde kicked Jekyll to the curb and signed the long-term lease on his body and soul.
“What have you got?”
Sam spun the laptop around to Dean.
“Disembowelment murder,” Sam said. “Dave Holcomb, Braden Heights, Indiana. Wife comes back from a shopping trip, finds her husband gutted behind their toolshed.”
“Angry lawn gnome?” Dean said as he sat down in front of the laptop to read the news report.
Castiel came forward, looked over Dean’s shoulder.
“I know it’s not much,” Sam said. “Just the one incident. And other than the brutality of the—”
“Animal attack,” Dean said, pointing. “According to police.”
“Maybe, but—”
“Gouged out eyeballs,” Dean continued, not really ignoring Sam, just his hard-sell masquerading as a soft-sell. “That a message? Or a delicacy?”
Sam shrugged. “Let’s find out. You in?”
“I’m in.”
“I’ll join you,” Castiel said. “After I follow up on my lead.”
“Great,” Dean said as he picked up the scattered books. “Lot of irons in the cure-the-Mark fire. Unfortunately,
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