Maddison Winchester: Journal 3 {Supernatural}

3 Bad Day at Black Rock: Part 1

June 12th - June 15th, 2007

After Dean and I picked up some food, the three of us hit the road. On the drive, Sam told us that the woman who saved us from the seven sins had visited him while Dean and I were out. He found out her name was Ruby and that she was a demon. I was shocked. Dean was infuriated and had been yelling at Sam about it for a while.

"Because demon, that's why. I mean, the second you find out this Ruby chick is a demon, you go for the holy water!" Dean shouted, "You don't chat!"

"No one was chatting, Dean," Sam said.

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked, irritation in his voice. "Then why didn't you send her ass back to Hell?"

"Because— Because she said... she might be able to help us out!" Sam yelled.

Dean shook his head. "How?"

Sam was silent.

"No, really, Sam, how?" Dean asked again, "How could she possibly help us?"

"She told me she could help you, okay?" Sam asked.

Dean was silent and then glanced over at Sam like he didn't get what he was saying.

"Help you out of the crossroads deal," Sam said.

Dean looked over at Sam, stunned. "What is wrong with you, huh? She's lying. You gotta know that don't you? She knows what your weakness is... it's family." He sighed. "What else did she say?"

Sam shook his head.

"Dude?" Dean asked.

"Nothing," Sam said.

Dean looked over, fury in his eyes. I awkwardly played with my fingers, feeling downright uncomfortable.

"Nothing, okay?!" Sam yelled. "Look, I'm not an idiot, Dean. I'm not talking about trusting her. I'm talking about using her. I mean, we're at war, right? And we don't know jack about the enemy. We don't know where they are. We don't know what they're doing. I mean, hell, we don't know what they want. Now, this Ruby girl knows more than we will ever find out on our own. Now yes, it's a risk, I know that, but we need to take it."

"You're okay, right? I mean, you're feeling okay?" Dean asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why are you always asking me that?" Sam snapped.

Ring! Ring!

Sam sighed and checked his phone. "It's not mine."

Dean reached into his pocket and checked his. "Nope."

"Well, I don't even have one, so it's not me," I said.

"Check the glove compartment. It's Dad's," Dean said.

"Dad's?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "Yes, I keep it charged up in case any of his old contacts call."

Sam opened the glove compartment and grabbed the phone, "Hello?" (...) "Yes... this is Edgar Casey..." (...) "No! No, no, don't— don't call the police, I'll handle this myself." (...) "Thanks." (...) "You know, can you just, uh— can you just lock it back up for me?" (...) "Great. Um, I— I, uh, I don't have my— my book in front of me." He gestured to me for a pen, so I quickly handed him one. "Do you— Do you have the address so I can—" (...) "Sure, okay. Go ahead." He wrote the address as it was listed. "Right, thanks a lot." He hung up. "Dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place?"

"What?" Dean asked.

"Outside of Buffalo?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "No way."