A Hop, Skip, and a Puddle Jump Away...

The blood stains on the concrete were still there. Dean struggled to remember the name of the guy the blood belonged to, some poor dumb bastard that had almost gotten his leg blown off trying to break into his dad's storage locker a few years back. Was he the one that died, or was it his buddy? Dean ran a hand over his forehead as he strained his brain trying to remember the details, but truth be told, after a while it was difficult to differentiate one case from another. He could remember the important details: a friggin cursed rabbits foot and Bela trying to sell it off to the highest bidder. All the other details were a bit fuzzy…

He could have asked Sam, he'd know, but why bother? Besides, Dean was still peeved that it was his brothers' photographic memory that had forced him to drive across three states when they were in the middle of a case all in the hopes of finding some super-duper spell book Sam was sure he had seen when they were last here. Dean had tried to point out that nobody could possibly be certain of where they had seen one book in particular, especially after Sam had admitted (once they had crossed state line number two) that he had only seen the book title in passing. Dean was so pissed he almost drove his baby off the road but Sam had promised him that he was pretty sure (really pretty sure) that it was in their dad's storage locker, and if it wasn't Dean got a one free punch, to be delivered – without warning - at a time of his own choosing. Dean smirked at the thought as he wandered aimlessly through his dad's demonic junkyard.

"How's it comin' Sammy?"

"Same as it was five minutes ago."

"Hurry it up, we got a time limit on this hunt. We need to get back to Greenwood by tomorrow night and kill this thing or we gotta wait another five years before it shows up again." Dean paused for a second as he tried to ignore the voice that made him think about whether or not he and Sammy would still be around in five years time, "So you either hurry up and, find this phantom book or we go back and do this thing my way."

"We're not burning the house down Dean!"

"Why not?"

"Because people live in it!"

"Details, details…" he mused as he inspected a dusty shelf of amulets.

"Besides, it's not a guaranteed fix, ok? We need this book because it has the exorcism rite we need to banish it forever, alright? No fire, no more dead bodies."

"Alright, alright…" Dean muttered, embittered as logic and reason defeated simple and effective pyromania yet again, "Just hurry it up. I don't like walking out on a job, leaving that family in that house. We need to get back there."

"I know but we tried to get them to leave but they wouldn't believe us…"

"What a shocker…"

"And we need this book. I told you, I could have taken the car and you could have stayed there and kept and eye on them."

"Like hell I was letting you drive three states away and back in my car!"

"Then stop complaining and help me look!"

Dean sighed and turned in a full circle trying as he thought to himself, 'if I was a dusty old spell book, where would I hide?'.

His eyes fell upon an old locker, kind of like the ones they had in the numerous high schools he had attended, and decided that was a good place to start - not that he had ever kept books in one, but rumours persisted that other people did. Out of habit he drew his weapon from the back of his jeans and pointed it at the locker as he prepared to open the door. Sam would have had a field day if he had seen it but Dean didn't care too much, the day you stopped thinking things were going to jump out from behind closed doors was the day you stopped wanting to sleep above ground. Dean quickly flicked open the door, his gun darting over each dark corner before he quickly put it away before Sam decided to make fun of him. No surprises behind door number one, just a bunch of ornaments and talisman's, the tame versions of which cluttered new age stores across the country. In the bottom section, leaning against the back wall were a few tools, shovels and things, three swords, a creepy eyed puppet and a broomstick. Dean blinked; I don't know which is weirder…

"Hey! I think I found it!" came Sam's voice from the shadows at the back of the locker.

"Great, let's go already…" Dean said as he took a second look inside the metal closet. Something was wrong with this picture – and it wasn't the puppet. Dean reached in and wrapped his fingers around a small rectangular object that was collecting dust on the top shelf. He pulled it out and opened his hand. In a locker full of ancient metal and wood the small plastic rectangle stood out. Dean wiped it against his jeans and picked up his torch from its resting place and examined it. "What the hell…" he whispered as he stared at the weird little… thing. "Hey Sam, check this out."

"What is it?" Sam asked, squeezing his way waste a crate, the musty old spell book clutched in his hands.

"I found this in there," he replied distractedly, pointing in a random direction, "It doesn't really look like it belongs, does it?"

He handed it over to Sam who firstly made sure the book was securely pinned under his arm before he accepted it.

"It looks like a lighter to me. What?" Dean asked off the look Sam gave him.

"Dude, a box of cereal would look like a cigarette lighter to you."

"Shuddup. If you're so smart what do you think it is?"

"It kind of looks like a memory stick…"

"Then plug it in to your computer, see what's on it."

"Dean, I said 'it looks like', not 'it is'. I don't think it comes apart so you can plug it in."

"What about that thing?" Dean asked, pointing to red tip on the plastic piece of weirdness, "If it's not a lid, maybe it's a button."

"No, Dean!" Sam scolded as he tried to fend off his brother and his insatiable need to press buttons, "Don't press it! We don't know what it…"

A blinding flash of white light enveloped the room before fading into nothingness, taking Dean and Sam with it.


"Engage hyper drive."

"Hyper drive engaged."