2005

Standard routine. Save people, hunt things. Same shit, different day. The Impala pulled to a stop at another crappy motel which was about as close to home as they got.

Nightmare-induced sleep and an early morning shower. To-go cup of coffee at a nearby cafe then a walk to the town library. The bitterness of coffee and smell of old pages was a familiarity. He found a table near the back of the library, keeping away from prying eyes. He skimmed through his father’s journal, searching for a shred of information on what they might be hunting.

His chair pushed back as he turned out empty handed, rising from his seat. He stowed away the journal in his bag, abandoning it for a moment as he searched through the array of books. He looked over the shelves, searching for anything on the town’s history or lore on ‘mythical’ creatures.

He sighed, finishing off another section without a single book in his aid. He headed towards another row, feeling as though his search was aimless and a phone call to Bobby would spare his time.

Momentarily distracted as he read the spine of one of the books, he felt his back collide into something followed by a thud against the floor. He whipped around, already crouched down to pick up the book he had knocked out of someone’s arms.

“Sorry,” he apologized, words mixed in with an almost sheepish laugh. He stood back up, offering the book out with an apologetic and nearly shy smile.