By some coincidence, it turned out that John had bought out a room for a whole month at the same motel we had intended to get a room at, or so the manager told us, which was why I was standing watch with Dean while Sam picked the lock to John's room.

My first impression of the room after Sam had pulled us in was: God this place is a mess.

There were books littered everywhere, what looked like investigation notes were tacked to the walls, a bit of half-eaten food on the counter-top, and what looked like paranormal detection equipment on an unkempt bed, along with an empty suitcase.

"I don't think he's been for a couple days at least," said Dean after he picked up and sniffed a wrapper of half-eaten burger.

Sam dug his fingers in a salt line on the floor. "Salt. Cats-eyed shells. He was worried, trying to keep something from coming in."

I investigated the bed. There was some expensive equipment here. "He must have left in a hurry. This isn't the kind of stuff you leave behind unless it's an emergency."

Dean looked at some of the notes tacked to the wall, and Sam walked up to stand beside him. "What do you got here?"

"Centennial Highway Victims," Dean replied as he looked at the different notes. "I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, age, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

Sam walked back to look at the other walls, while I investigated the table behind the window, shifting aside some of the books.

"Dad figured it out," said Sam after turning on a lamp.

"What do you mean?" asked Dean, turning around.

"He found the same article we did," Sam explained. "Constance Welch. She's a Woman in White."

While they'd been talking, I had found what I had been looking for, John's journal. I opened it and found the note John had left for Dean. Dean's name, with a set of coordinates.

"Dad's gone," I said, looking at the note. "Dad's left Jericho."

"What do you mean?" asked Dean, turning around to look at me. I turned around and handed John's journal to him.

"Dad's journal!" said Dean in surprise.

"But… he doesn't go anywhere without that," said Sam in confusion.

"There's a note inside, coordinates," I said, scratching the back of my head.

Dean opened the journal and rifled through it, finding the note a moment later. "Oh, the same old ex-marine crap when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"We'll have to find out where they point to," Sam mused, still looking at the journal.

"Right, but we've got a Woman in White to deal with first," said Dean, turning around and looking at the article that was pinned on the wall. "We gotta dig up her corpse, and do a little salt and burn. Does it say where she's buried?"

"No, not that I can tell," Sam replied. "We could go ask her husband, if he's still alive."

"Hmm." Dean frowned thoughtfully. "All right, why don't you see if you can find an address, I'm gonna go get cleaned up."

While they had been talking, I had walked over to the mirror, having noticed a picture of a younger John with a younger Sam and Dean.

"Wait, no," I said, turning around after I grabbed the picture. "Dad left in a hurry, he didn't even pack up. He must have had a good reason for leaving all this stuff behind. I don't think we should linger here. You can get cleaned up somewhere else."

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"He has a good point," said Sam. "We should go."

Dean shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Ok, lets go."

I had, of course, known that the cops were on their way here, and apparently we had left just in time, as half a minute after we had gotten in the car and pulled onto the road, we saw the cops pull into the parking lot.

"You think they were here for us?" asked Sam as we drove by.

"Maybe," Dean replied thoughtfully.


We stopped at an old gas station, where Dean decided to use the restroom to clean up. While we waited, Sam and I decided to use the time productively: Sam was looking for Joseph Welch's current location, while I was looking up the coordinates John had left us.

"Hey Sam, can you double check this for me, make sure I got it right?" I asked after carefully checking over the location. "I don't think I got it right."

I of course had gotten it right, but I also knew that John wasn't at the coordinates that he had left us, but that was a result of my knowledge of Canon. Sam and Dean didn't know that, however, so in order to lead them in the right direction, I would sometimes have to act the confused kid.

"Sure, hand it over," Sam replied, holding up his hand, and I passed over the map and tools I'd been using.

"No, I'm pretty sure you got this right, Adam." said Sam a few minutes later. "It's Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

"But that doesn't make sense," I replied in a confused tone. "There's nothing out there but wilderness."

"Well, Dad went there for some reason," Sam said, passing the map and tools back. "You can ask him why when you get there."

"I take it then that you're not coming with us?" I asked curiously.

"The interview's on Monday, I've gotta be there," Sam replied crossly.

"Hey, you'll get no argument from me," I said, throwing my hands up submissively. "You gotta live your life the way you want it."

"Heh, yeah. Some times I feel like you're the only one in this family that gets me, you know?" Sam said contemplatively, looking out the windshield. "Like, you're the only one who understood why I had to leave. Not like Dean. Not like Dad..."

I rolled my eyes. "Sam, you know he was only mad cause he was scared, right? He was only concerned about keeping you safe, and in his mind, you were only safe if you're with him or with Dean."

"That doesn't give him the right to-" Sam started to say heatedly.

"I get it, I get it," I rose my hands placatingly. "My point is, Dad understands you more than you think, he was just worried about you. He was worried that he couldn't keep you safe. He still cares about you, you know? We all do."

"I know," Sam looked away.

Thankfully Dean chose that moment to return, properly cleaned up now. As he sat down in the drivers seat, he looked between us, possibly noticing the tension in the air.

"I found the location of the coordinates Dad left us," I said before Dean had a chance to say anything. "Blackwater Ridge, Colorado. Did you get the address, Sam?"

"Yeah, we can head there now," said Sam. "Hey, Dean? About what I said earlier, about Mom, and Dad. I'm sorry-"

Dean held his hand up. "No Chick-Flick moments."

"Alright, Jerk." Sam snarked.

"Bitch," Dean replied.


Surprisingly, everything went off without a hitch. We found Mr. Welch, and learned the location of Constance bones from him. Then we went and dug them up, and salted and burned them. It was all rather anti-climatic, so a few hours later we pulled up in front of Sam's apartment building, unscathed from our little hunt.

After he had gotten out, Sam leaned down to the Impala's shotgun window. "You'll call me when you find him? Maybe I can meet up with you guys later, huh?"

"Yeah, alright," Dean replied.

Sam smiled and turned away.

"Sam!" Dean called a moment later, and Sam turned around. "You know, we made a hell of a team back there, all three of us."

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

Dean nodded back, before putting the car into gear and driving off. I turned and looked back at Sam as we drove, before we turned a corner and I lost sight of him. A moment later, Dean pulled into the parking lot behind the apartment building and parked.

"What are you doing?" I asked curiously.

"I haven't got much sleep the past few days," Dean replied after yawning. "I was gonna rest up for a bit."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," I replied, yawning myself. I looked at the apartment building, waiting.

A moment later, the building began to smoke.

"Dean, Fire!" I said suddenly, pointing at the apartment building.

Dean, who'd been making himself comfortable in the front seat, sat up. "Shit, Sammy!"

We both got out of the car, and Dean ran as fast as he could to the back door, with me hot on his heels. Strangely enough the back door was already open, so we raced through it, running up to Sam's apartment.

"SAM!" Dean yelled after kicking the door open. I followed him as he raced to the room the smoke was coming from, and there I saw Jessica, pinned to the ceiling, her mid-section ripped open.

Dean grabbed Sam and pulled him up, as he was doing little more than sitting on the bed, yelling Jessica's name, and I held the door open as Dean pulled him out.


It was two hours later. The building was only smoking now, as the firefighters and ambulances had arrived and were dealing with the situation. Dean and I watched from the edge of the scene, Dean wearing an expression of disbelief, while I was more grim faced.

After a few minutes watching, Dean turned around and walked back to the Impala, I followed him. There we Sam with trunk of the Impala open, he was loading a rifle. He looked at us with grim determination, before sighing and tossing the rifle back in the trunk.

"We've got work to do," he said, then closed the trunk.