Episode Five: Numbers

By Carocali

Part Two

Dean pulled in front of the Thomas County Public Library and put the Impala in park. He had done his fair share of research in their sordid past, but he had to admit he never really liked it. The older sibling looked to his right to see Sam getting all his ducks in a row; watching a million thoughts go through his head. There was a resolved anticipation that he felt ooze from his brother. Dean could see 1 light bulb moment after another as his little brother was ready to take on this demon. Dean knew that look all too well and Sam was practically out the door before the car even stopped.

Sam grabbed his computer, some loose change for copies, a notebook, and a bottle of water and quickly tore up the sidewalk. He turned back abruptly to his brother who stared after him. “Call me if you find anything in Camilla,” Sam shouted as he was almost to the door. Dean watched the library suck his baby brother in, and he shook his head at what a geek he was. The older sibling made his way to the highway, where he felt most comfortable.

The building had a Southern charm to it from the moment Sam walked in the door. Donated paintings hung on the walls of plantations and soldiers off to war. A giant peach was the subject of another painting; letting the patrons know that they were, in fact, in Georgia. Sam could not help but chuckle at the painting, and he received a glare from an older librarian behind the counter. He gave his patented 2-second smile and continued on his way deeper into the library.

Sam found a station for set up. There was wireless throughout the building, but there were only a few open areas that were setup for the onslaught of information Sam had planned. He would start with the demon and branch out from there, gathering whatever books he could find to back up his theories. The library would close in a couple of hours, but Sam would find the answers before he left – guaranteed. He had to, for his own sanity.

The younger sibling didn’t want to admit it to Dean, but he was nervous. Something was tingling in his Spidey senses; something was just not right. This article pulled at him, and since the accident with the Impala, he was more and more sure of those freaky feelings. Sam had been able to use a bit of the latent telekinesis to stave off the possessed doctor when Dean was recovering, but in the end it had been his brother who saved the day with the holy water. Why could I use it at the hospital, but not at the cabin? Why couldn’t I save him then and stop all his pain? Guilt at not being able to save his brother ate at him once again. He stopped himself, shaking the feelings away knowing that they would do no good right now.

First things first, this was not a Daeva, so he needed to figure out what the hell it was. There were a few websites that he had bookmarked for demon searching, so he began there. The sites always looked so ominous when they first opened to give the illusion of darkness. Sam had tapped into a good number of sources over the past year, including this “everything demons” site. He figured he would start there.

* * * *

After Dean dropped Sam off at the library he headed up to Camilla to see what kind of lead they could get on this thing. The hunter pulled out his box of tapes, ignoring Sam’s weird CD collection, and perused his selection. He figured he’d go for a little BOC today on his ride up to the small city. After Dark was the first song that hit the speakers and Dean sang along at the top of his voice. It’s not that he wouldn’t normally sing with Sammy in the car, he just preferred to do it with him sleeping and a spoon hanging out of his mouth before he began the vocalization.

Dean had every confidence that his brother would figure out what this demon was as he toiled over books and newspapers to put the pieces together. In the meantime, Dean had his own part to play. There had to be something in Camilla that would get them a step closer to finding their answers. The hunter decided he wouldn’t leave the city limits until he knew what that was.

The Impala cruised slowly up and down the streets and Dean finally spied the 24 hour mart he was looking for. It was now early evening and the place looked pretty empty save for the cashier and a few patrons here and there. Dean leaned into the glove box, feeling a slight pull on his abdomen, and pulled out the U.S. Marshall ID, just in case they got a little suspicious. Gotta have a back up plan.

The young hunter strolled into the convenience mart deciding it would work best if he had a bit of an accent. Make it look like he was a local. Sammy’s not the only 1 who can do that – what’d he call it? Method acting? As he made his way further into the store he noted the bubble gum rock on the in-house radio. The keen hunter did not recognize what was playing, but it was something soft and mushy – certainly not worthy of his time.

The door jingled behind him in time with the beat and Dean turned to see a group of young girls with tight tops and short shorts enter the mart, giggling the whole time. A brief flash of the Fanta girls went through his mind as 1 young lady was prettier than the next. His eyes trailed them as they made their way up and down the aisles ending in front of the alcoholic beverages. He wondered if they were even old enough to drink. The thought crossed his mind to pull out his badge and demand their IDs; then of course, their phone numbers would be necessary. Unfortunately, he had a job to do. The upstairs brain kicked in as he remembered why he was here. He shook his head at the feast before him and sulked away toward the coffee island near the fountain drinks.

Other than the gaggle of girls, there was a 30 something, thin man checking the dates on the milk products near the back of the store. Dean walked by as the man opened the door to the freezer section, retrieving some ice cream. The chill caught the young hunter off-guard and he shivered involuntarily. For a moment he was back in Arizona dealing with the vengeful spirit of Laura Mitchell. The Ice Queen. Dean quickened his pace and left the area.

* * * *

Sam felt someone staring in his direction just behind him. He turned quickly and saw a young Goth boy looking at his computer screen wide eyed.

“Man, how did you find that website? It is wicked cool,” he began coming closer, now that he didn’t have to hide the fact that he was watching. The young boy couldn’t be more than 15 and was dressed all in black. He wore eyeliner and black lipstick that accentuated the deep blue of his eyes. The teenager had matching studs in his ears, and a chain that attached to a lip ring. His appearance was for shock, but Sam felt a warm energy from the young man and couldn’t help but smile at him.

“It’s kind of a hobby of mine,” said Sam truthfully. Well, okay, not a hobby but… He noted the teenager looking him up and down as if to say ‘yeah right.’ Sam laughed again and turned back toward the screen.

“I’ve seen all sorts of books and websites, but I’ve never found that 1. What are you looking for?” Before he knew it, he had pulled up a chair next to Sam and had his elbow on the counter, eying the page with interest. “This library has a few cool books, but they are mostly in reference so you can’t take them out.”

Now Sam was intrigued. He had a possible helper with his research – someone who knew the library and could tell him about the area. “Oh yeah? What kind of books?” he baited the kid wondering what he would get out of him.

The young man stood and headed off in the opposite direction. Sam wondered what he would come back with, and what the ‘cool books’ were. He turned back to the screen and continued his search while he waited for the teenager. The hunter decided on basic overall knowledge first to see if something jumped out at him again.

He scanned through some of the names of demons, starting alphabetically. Sam had been on this website hundreds of times, but for some reason, he caught Acham, the demon of Thursday. “What the hell?” he laughed louder than he had intended. Why he never noted it before he wasn’t sure, but it was a good time for a little release. “I bet he’s a bitch to deal with on Mondays!” Sam kept going, still chuckling to himself as he searched.

A short while later, the young boy came back with an armful of books. Sam watched him as he approached; his head barely above the stack. He jumped up to assist the boy and grabbed the top 4 books from his grasp.

“Easy there. Geez! I didn’t think you were going to come back with the whole section,” Sam said, completely amazed at the tenacity of this kid. He took a quick glance at one of the books he removed from the pile. Demonology by King James. “Hmm,” replied Sam, now intrigued by the rest of the books in the pile. Biblical Demonology – a study of spiritual forces at work today, Encyclopedia of Witchcraft and Demonology, Demonology – past and present. “Wow! I don’t know what to say!” replied Sam, awestruck at his ‘mini me;’ minus all the black clothing and makeup of course.

“I told you there were some good books here,” the kid said, clearly impressed with himself for shocking the man in front of him. He took up residence in his chair again, watching Sam page through the treasures. “So, I’ll ask again – what are you looking for? I have a feeling I can help you. This is kinda my thing, if you catch my drift,” he said with a devilish twinkle in his eye. He smiled slightly at the shaggy-haired man before him. “I’m Robert.”

Sam reached his hand out to greet the 1 extended to him. “Sam. I don’t even know what to say. This is great. Thank you,” he said, wondering how much he should involve this kid. If Robert was already dabbling on the edge of wanting to know about this stuff, it might send him over to know that it was all true. In the same sense, if he had assistance researching, he would definitely get more done and they could figure out what this thing was and how to kill it. He wavered back and forth, looking him over. Robert was just a kid; a good kid. Sam could feel it. He sighed and decided to trust him. Let’s see what kind of reaction I get. “What do you know about the murders that have been going on around here,” Sam started, waiting to see his reaction.

The kid looked at him thoughtfully. It certainly was not the question that he had expected. This guy appeared to be a frat boy looking for information on a research paper, certainly not someone who knew anything about the occult. “Do you think it has to do with demons?” he shot back, deciding to volley before answering.

Sam sighed and cocked his head at Robert. What he thought was a gift horse, might turn out to be a horse’s ass.

“Yes.”

The boy squirmed a little, suddenly feeling that he could bring his guard down. He pulled 1 of the books to himself and opened it randomly to a page. “I think you’re right,” he spoke not looking up, “but no one understands it.” Robert kept paging through the book, distracted. Sad. “You know this happened 3 years ago? Same thing - 3 sets of murders, all like this.” He stopped on a page that held a particularly nasty looking demon.

“This happened before? Where?” Sam jolted to the boy, making him back away. He glanced at the page Robert had open but realized it was not anything of significance. Sam dialed back his excitement a little and tried again. “What can you tell me about it?” He touched his arm gently and the boy startled, lost in his own thoughts.

* * * *

As he inspected the aisles Dean noticed a small child in the candy section. The forlorn mother, obviously wanting to be out of the store yesterday, was instructing the child. “You can pick 1 piece of candy and that’s it. Now hurry up.” Dean watched in absent fascination as the kid went from candy bar to candy bar. She stopped briefly on Peanut M&M’s and Dean couldn’t help himself.

“I’d take those if I were you,” he said as he winked at the child, scurrying past the hawk-eyed glare from her mother. Dean smiled at the guardian as he made his way back to the coffee island. The caffeine drain was kicking in and there was no better way to jump start that puppy than a nice cup of strong brew.

Dean spent an exaggerated amount of time working on his extra large cup of coffee. Normally he would drink it black, but he was looking at all the options before him to ruin the taste of his beverage: Hazelnut, Irish Crème, Vanilla, Mocha. Sweet and Low, Natural Pure Cane Sugar, Splenda, Equal. Cinnamon! My God why would people do this to these poor coffee beans!

Truth be told, he was waiting for the mother to leave before approaching the young girl behind the counter. He wanted to get some information about Jennifer, but there was no reason for the child to hear about the brutality of the murders in any way, shape, or form. Dean was nothing if not cautious and they had already ruined 1 kid’s conception about what was really in the dark.

The little girl finally decided on a Kit-Kat bar, much to Dean’s dismay, and they picked up their items, leaving the store in a hurry. Off to a soccer match or some normal thing. As Dean watched them go, the child suddenly turned back to him and waved with a big grin on her face. The hunter was in shock at this gesture and fumbled oddly as he returned the gesture, trying to work up a smile to match hers. They paced quickly out the door and he heard the snigger from behind the counter.

“Got a way with kids I see,” said the petite young girl with dyed blonde hair and a ring through her nose. She wore a bit too much makeup, and her clothing was all the rave for a girl her age. She surveyed the man before her, noting him earlier when he walked in the door. With all the craziness around these parts, a girl had to be aware of her surroundings.

“Yeah, kids are the best,” Dean answered with a touch of an accent and familiarity at the phrase. He smiled as he approached the clerk. “Listen, Mary, I don’t mean to pry,” he began, regarding her name tag and trying to feel out the situation before him, “but I’s wondering if I could ask ya a few questions ‘bout Jennifer Murray.” Dean watched as the question stunned her. He noticed the swelling of her lower lids with tears and her white cheeks began to flush.

* * * *

Robert held Sam’s gaze and then looked down. “I was 12. We were living in Lakeland, Georgia. I was coming home from school,” he began closing the book in front of him. Sam watched as the boy’s eyes suddenly became those of a younger child. A sadness overwhelmed the hunter as he listened intently to the boy before him. “The door was wide open so I went in. I called for my mom, but there was no answer.” The boy paused to gather his thoughts. Sam could see where this was headed and felt the urge to place his hand on the boy’s arm again. This time he did not flinch.

“If you can’t…”

“No, it’s okay, I just… need a minute,” Robert said closing his eyes and tilting his head upward. Sam watched his chest rise and fall as he collected himself. After a moment longer, he came back to Sam’s soulful eyes upon him. “I went into the kitchen, and I saw it. It was a demon – horns and all.” Tears welled up in Robert’s eyes and pain exuded from his voice. “It had just finished ripping the shit out of my mom. Then it looked at me and laughed. Daring me to stop it as it tore out the house to the next 1.”

The hunter clenched a little tighter on the boy’s arm, holding back his desire to grab him into a hug and let him cry it out on his shoulder. That’s why the boy knew so much about the demon books. He had been doing research of his own for the past 3 years. “I….I’m so sorry, Robert.” Sam felt the pain of that day in his heart. He knew that burning desire to exact revenge. But the boy was so young and had no one to guide him. All that lost innocence.

Sam relived the moment of Jessica pinned to the ceiling; imagined how his father felt seeing the same image; wondered at the confusion of 4-year-old Dean when he was told his mother was gone. It was all so overwhelming that Sam could not help but shed a tear himself. He quickly wiped it away.

The young boy looked to the man in front of him in confusion. Why is he crying about something that happened to me? Then realization hit him. “It happened to you too, didn’t it? A demon destroyed your family too.” It wasn’t a question, but an understanding.

Sam nodded and took a deep breath. “My mom was killed by a demon. And my girlfriend,” he looked at the boy. They were on the same page and wanted the same thing. “Now my brother and I are here to finish this thing off and I can use whatever help you can give me,” Sam said looking to the boy for permission to continue. Robert read the cue and pulled the chair even closer to Sam. “You said there were 3 sets of murders. Where were the other towns?”

Robert had a drive in him now. No one had believed him when he described what he saw – until now. He had a chance to make it right. To get revenge. “Willacoochee and Valdosta were first, 3 days apart, 3 victims each time,” he stated clearly from memory, “this thing likes the number 3.”

Sam liked this kid and laughed at his frankness. “Yeah, I guess it does. Hopefully that will help us kill it.”

* * * *

Dean and Mary were interrupted by the giggling twenty-somethings with their beer and snacks. A red head with long curly hair looked over to the hunter, slowly scanning him up and down, noting the scratches on his face. He was probably in a bar fight. That’s so hot! She radiated a seductive smile and turned her eyes away, continuing to play the game.

Dean had to return the glance in kind; loving every inch of what he saw. Her eyelashes were the longest he had ever seen as she batted them in his direction. Dean’s breath hitched as he started to drown in her beauty. Why now? Damn it. He smiled back then looked anywhere but the counter. If he kept on in her direction, the only clue he would find today would be how to get to her apartment in the shortest amount of time.

The young clerk worked quickly to dry her raccoon eyes, check IDs and get the girls out. They continued their twittering as they hit the exit, looking back one last time to see the young hunter staring after them. The red head mouthed “call me” and flung her hair flirtatiously at him as the door closed. Dean watched them climb into their car and speed off down the road.

“Here,” the young woman said, invading Dean’s dirty thoughts and handing him a piece of paper with a phone number on it. “She asked me to give this to ya.” The clerk was still trying to get herself together. Her eye makeup continued to run down her face. She grabbed a mirror from under the counter and worked with a discarded napkin on the surface.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I din’t mean to upset ya. It’s just, I’m tryin’ to figure out what happened to that poor young girl,” Dean continued trying to remain in character, which was very difficult with the possibilities that lay before him in those numbers; 10 beautiful numbers….

The clerk straightened up a bit at the sincerity of his voice. She and Jennifer were friends - good friends - and this was difficult for her. Dean could read her like an open book. He would need to tread lightly.

“There’s really nothin’ to tell. Jennifer was workin’ here Friday night and she was suppos’d to work at 5 p.m. on Saturday with me,” Mary recalled as she fought through the memories that were so fresh in her mind. “She…never showed up,” the woman cried, unable to stop herself from unleashing her sadness. Mary took a moment and inhaled deeply to relieve some of her emotion. Dean ran to the coffee bar and grabbed a few more napkins and offered them to the young girl. “Thanks,” she said blowing her nose quietly and wiping her tears with a new napkin.

“I called and called and there was no answer,” Mary said, able to begin again after the brief reprieve. “Finally I had one of our friends go over there round 8 and that’s when they found her.” Mary knew very little about the crime scene other than the overview, but she knew that Jennifer had died a death beyond description. The young clerk did not want to imagine her co-worker in that light.

Dean felt awful making the young girl relive the moment. If the crime scene was like the one in Ochlochnee, with the body still there, he couldn’t imagine what her friend had seen. The thought of it made his heart ache. Before he realized what he was doing, he reached over and touched the girl’s hand and looked into her eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I wish…” Dean began but was interrupted by the customer that had been wandering the store.

The man was all business and plopped his milk on the counter along with several frozen goods and a package of Velveeta. He looked between the 2 individuals and continued on with his unpacking, clearly not caring for the state that Mary was in. He also unloaded several other items consisting of pre-packaged deli meat, some mayonnaise, and a loaf of bread.

“I’ll also need 5 scratch-off tickets and a quick pick for the Megamillions. It’s up ta $67 million, so it’s worth a ticket.”

Dean observed the items he placed on the counter and his callous attitude toward the girl behind the register. Some people. He had to turn away so he didn’t say something he would regret. The hunter left the immediate front of the store and looked to a wall with several nails and pieces of paper hanging on them. He noted that the elevator music picked up a little with the Steve Miller Band’s Take the Money and Run.

* * * *

The 2 investigators spent the next hour looking through the various books that were on hand. Sam was grateful for another set of eyes knowing what to look for. He instructed Robert to point out any demon that had to do with ripping skin or mutilation, just to be safe. The hunter would occasionally jump back online and do some cross searching when something came up that seemed like it would work. So far no luck.

Sam’s email indicated that he had a few new messages. His eyes were starting to bug out, so he figured it would be alright to take a quick look at email. Most of the notes were the typical spam – weight loss, breast enlargement and cheap pills from Canada – but he saw an email from Bobby that he quickly opened to see if everything was alright.

Okay kid, now don’t panic, I’m just checking in. I know your brother doesn’t really use email, so I figured I would drop ya a note to see how you were getting along. How’s the car? Like the CD player? Still seems a waste to me, but he wanted to do it.

Also wanted to tell ya I still haven’t heard from Zach. He has been known to go missing – like your daddy – but I don’t know. If I hear anything I’ll let ya know.

You know you boys are welcome here anytime. I still got lots of stuff on Solomon you can look through. Miss the company.

See ya - Bobby

Leave it to Bobby to say everything in a hundred words or less. It was not good news about Zach. He still held the answers that Sam needed to know about the Demon, even though Dean was leery of their conversation. The hunter sighed. All he wanted was a normal life and here he was with a 15 year old doing research on an S.O.B. that he couldn’t even find. Nothing in the Bible, nothing in the general demonology books. Nothing, nothing, nothing! Sam stood up quickly and decided he needed a break. He looked to Robert who was still searching away even at Sam’s rising. The kid had gumption, he’d give him that. “You want a Coke or something?” Sam asked the newly recruited researcher.

“Sure, that’s cool,” he answered without looking up.

Sam made his way to the small vending area by the entrance. Coke it was. This was Georgia after all. There was no Pepsi here. He grabbed two cans and made his way back to their little camp. Bobby’s email still haunted him. Where is Zach? I bet he could figure out what the hell this thing is. He’d probably know just by…

“Solomon!”

* * * *

The lottery info was plastered all over the walls and there was a counter for the purchaser to plan their strategy of the number selection. Dean approached the section filled with curiosity. He pulled out a sheet from the wall and absently filled in the 5 numbers for the Megamillions: 1 and 24 for his birthday, 5 and 2 for Sam’s and 13 just to be daring. The powerball number he picked was 2 again, for Sammy. This was his ticket after all and he could pick whatever he wanted. He chuckled as he looked the numbers over; not even believing he was going to buy a ticket. But $67 million would buy a lot of silver bullets. What’s a dollar, really? And I’m doing it for the kids. They get all the money after all! Ha!

The hunter spied the older man at the counter still being an ass to the poor young girl, amazed that he had no regard for her feelings. The man certainly must have heard a portion of the conversation they were having, but he had no heart at all. Dean had to keep away from the front or the man would get a different kind of sandwich with his purchase.

He diverted his attention back to the hanging papers. Upon further inspection, he realized that they were the Georgia Cash 3, Cash 4 and Fantasy 5 numbers for the last few days. As he turned his head, something caught his eye.

The Cash 3 numbers for Monday evening were 610.

* * * *

Sam ran back to his computer almost knocking the old crabby librarian down on his way. “Sorry!” he called back at her. He could feel her eyes burning into his skull. Robert heard the ruckus and finally looked up from one of the encyclopedias to see Sam skidding to the chair, throwing the Coke at him.

He quickly typed in Testament of Solomon on the computer to see what would come up. Wikipedia had the first answer come to the Google page:

The "Testament of Solomon" is an Old Testament pseudepigraphical work, purportedly written by King Solomon, in which Solomon mostly describes particular demons whom he enslaved to help build the temple, the questions he put to them about their deeds and how they could be thwarted, and their answers, which provide a kind of self-help manual against demonic activity. The author is obviously a Christian. The date of the text is uncertain, perhaps 1st century to 3rd century; regardless, it is certainly the oldest surviving work that is particularly concerned with individual demons.

Sam knew this was it. That feeling had returned and he jumped with excitement. The new search included ‘Testament of Solomon’ and the word ‘flesh’ instead of ‘skin.’ Robert was now peering over his shoulder wondering what Sam had figured out. They waited as the engine chugged away. Sam held his breath, hoping that they had finally found the answer.

* * * *

Dean took in a breath and grabbed the sheet of paper from the wall examining it and not really seeing what was in front of him. A hundred things went through his head and he had to stop himself to put it all together. The hunter did a mental check list of when the numbers were drawn, coming to the conclusion it was the night before the murders in Ochlocknee. Dean raced back to the wall counting back another 3 days realizing that the murders in Camilla were on Saturday. That meant the pick 3 numbers from Friday evening would hold his answer.

The little sheets of paper mocked him, dancing in the wake of his scurrying about as he desperately looked for his answer.

* * * *

The thirty-sixth said: "I am called Bianakith. I have a grudge against the body. I lay waste houses, I cause flesh to decay, and all else that is similar. If a man write on the front-door of his house: 'Mêltô, Ardu, Anaath,' I flee from that place."

That had to be it. Decaying flesh? A grudge against the body. It fit. This was the last of the 36 demons that Solomon had enslaved to build his temple, and now it was on the loose. The Key of Solomon was what trapped Meg and allowed them to exorcise the demon within her. For a false text, the Testament of Solomon sure seemed to be coming to fruition.

“Is that it? Is that the thing that killed my mom?” Robert asked with fire in his voice. He leaned in and read the text on the screen.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is. And now we know how to stop it.”

* * * *

“Damn it!”

Mary and the customer now both stared at Dean like he had 2 heads as he paced up and down the counter area looking for more information.

“What’s wrong,” Mary asked cautiously, seeing how agitated the man was.

“Do you have the numbers from Friday night? The Cash 3 numbers?” There was a frantic nature in his voice and Mary stepped back from the counter before answering.

“We only keep the last 3 days. You can go online to find them. They have them listed back for a few years I think.” Mary was trying to figure out if she should be scared or concerned for this young man. His sudden change in behavior was unsettling.

“Shit,” he cried as he took the daily numbers from Monday night and raced out the door, leaving his coffee and potential winning lottery ticket behind. He finally had his link.

Dean raced to the Impala hopping in, wheels squealing as he pulled out of the lot back towards Thomasville. He fingered his cell phone and instantly called Sam.

The phone rang once and Sam picked up. In unison they both said, “I got it.”

* * * *

“Here it is,” called Sam turning back to look at his brother who was pacing the room, “the numbers for Friday night were 416. All the victims had the birthday of April 16th. You definitely found the link.”

Dean ran his fingers through his hair but did not stop the pacing. “So the numbers for tomorrow night’s Cash 3 will choose the next victims. How the hell are we going to find out where he’s going to strike next? Throw a dart at the map and go from there? Jesus, Sam.”

The younger hunter pulled out his notebook where he found Robert’s number scribbled at the top. He turned a couple of pages and found the cities that the young boy had given him. “Robert said 3 years ago there were 3 towns with 3 victims each. Same deal. Give me a minute; I want to check this out.”

“How long do you need?” asked Dean, getting his coat on and reaching for the keys to the Impala. “I’m going to grab some quick chow so we can put this bad boy together. It’s going to be a long night and I don’t want my stomach adding its own $.02. Burgers?”

“God, Dean, I’m sick of burgers,” snorted Sam still searching on the computer. “Man, I don’t know, just find me something a little healthy – chicken? Salad?”

“Alright Dalai, I’ll come up with something,” he spouted back reaching for the door.

“Just don’t be too long. There a lot of stuff to go over. We have to look at the Testament of Solomon too.”

“Nag, nag, nag. Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Dean chided as he closed the door.

“Jerk,” Sam replied under his breath, shaking his head.

“I heard that.” Dean’s face was in the window wagging a scolding finger at his brother.

His brother wagged the middle one back.

Sam pulled all focus back to the computer. The Google home page blinked at him, asking him if he felt lucky. Sam snorted at the phrase. If bad luck counts. Ignoring the button, he typed in “Lakeland, Valdosta and Willacoochee, Georgia murders” separately to see what he would come up with. There was a link to the Valdosta Daily Times that had some of what he was looking for. Then Sam noticed a sponsored link come up for newspaperarchive.com/gamurder. Curiosity got the best of him and he clicked.

The page sprung up with the headline “Kennedy Shot Dead in Texas” to the right of the screen. This page had newspaper archives dated back to 1759 from all over the country. In order to get started, it asked for murder keywords, then dates and location. Sam did as he was prompted and filled in the blanks. When it came to murder keywords, he chose ‘flesh,’ ‘unsolved,’ ‘hour,’ and ‘3’ to get started. Then he typed in Lakeland, Georgia 2004 as his location and date.

The headline appeared. “Lakeland mourns 3 in devastating murder spree. Local teacher among victims.”

Sam looked at the pictures and a 12-year-old Robert was shown being comforted by his father. He gasped as he saw the young boy’s picture, looking lost and confused. “No one believed him.” Sam shook his head and thought of the driven young man he spent part of the evening with. The hunter continued to scan the article for information to confirm their theory. “The only link between the victims was their date of birth, March 1st.”

“Bingo!” he yelled as he scribbled down the date so he could check the lottery numbers. August 15th, 2004. “That means the Cash 3 would be from August 14th.”

The young hunter continued to examine the article. In the final paragraph, the reporter noted that the murders happened all within the hour of 3 p.m. On a whim, Sam linked back to the page about the victims in Camilla. They were all killed between 4 p.m. and 5 p.m. “So whatever the month is, that’s the hour they are killed?” he said aloud.

He found the article from the Ochlocknee paper. “Upon investigation, it was learned that all the victims were killed around the same time; between 6 p.m. and 7 p.m.” The Cash 3 numbers were 610 and their birthdays were June 10th.

“Well isn’t that interesting?”

“What’s interesting?” asked Dean as he entered the door holding a 6-pack of beer and two bags of food, tossing 1 to his brother. “I got you a chicken salad. I hope that will be up to your standards, your holiness.” He pulled up a chair next to Sam, getting a quick punch in the arm. “Ow. Last time I’m feeding you! Next time you can command a goat to get you something to eat from the mountains.”

“I thought I just commanded an ass to get it,” Sam quipped back with a smile on his face, grabbing and opening 1 of the beers.

Dean nodded and was impressed by the comeback. He’d give his little brother a point for that 1 and grabbed his own beverage. “Technically, I offered. So, what’s interesting?” Dean turned his full attention to the computer.

Sam turned the screen so Dean could see what he found. “The victims in Lakeland were all born on March 1st and killed between 3 p.m. and 4 p.m.” He clicked to the page in Camilla. “Here, the victims were April 16th and killed between 4 p.m. and 5 p.m.”

“So the sick son of a bitch uses the month as the hour he kills? Well that will narrow part of it down. Were you able to confirm the lottery numbers for those dates?” Dean questioned pulling his burger from the bag and shoving half of it into his mouth.

Sam ignored the caveman etiquette of his brother and continued. “I want to gather the other dates from Willacoochee and Valdosta, then I’ll go look.”

The older sibling started to choke on his burger. “I still can’t believe they named a town Willacoochee,” he said with his mouth full of bun, barely able to talk. “It sounds like a hooker’s hangout.”

Sam looked to Dean and shook his head. “Actually it means ‘Home of the Wildcat’ in some Native American tongue; they didn’t specify which one.”

“Wildcat? Is that what they’re calling it these days,” retorted Dean, arching his eyebrows a few times and grabbing his beer. He received a blank stare in return. “Geez, Sammy, can’t you ever relax?”

A bewildered look came across Sam’s face as he knitted his eyebrows at his brother. “I’m just telling you what I found out. And it’s Sam!” he quickly added. “So the murders in your hooker town were on August 18th, so the lottery date is the 17th.” He scribbled down as he continued paging through the information on the screen. “Yada, yada, birthdays were January 25th at 1pm.”

“Oo! One day off from my birthday. Guess I got lucky there huh,” Dean smiled with his lopsided grin. Then his face dropped. “Oh shit! I forgot to buy the lottery ticket for the Megamillions! It’s $67 million!” He crumpled his bag and threw a perfect basket with the waste. “He makes a 3 pointer from downtown. The crowd goes wild. Haaaaa. I really should have bought that ticket!”

“Dean! Can you focus here?” Sam scolded. He sighed heavily and continued on. “Okay, last one. Valdosta.” Sam scrolled through the article and came on the information. “September 24th, 9 p.m. We definitely have a pattern here.” Sam leaned back into the chair and opened his bag of food. He looked at the salad with interest and opened the packaging, drizzling the dressing on top.

“Okay, so we have 5 murders linked to the lottery,” Dean began, pulling the computer to himself so Sam could eat. The older hunter finished his beer and cracked open another. He scrolled down a little more on the Valdosta murders and noted a comment from the reporter.

“This recent outbreak of violence may be linked to 3 similar murders from 3 years ago in Ashbury, Fitzgerald, and Albany in March 2001. It appears that this ring of serial killers came back for another go in Southern Georgia as violent as the first time.”

“Crap, there’s another set?” Sam said sitting back up with the salad in his lap, finishing his first beer.

Dean was already on it, using the same search engine that Sam had found with Georgia murders. After several minutes, he found the information they were looking for.

“Okay, to recap: Ashbury, birthday February 15th, murders happened on December 13th, numbers drawn the 12th. Albany birthday August 27th, murders happened December 16th and Fitzgerald birthday July 19th with our final date of December 19th. The hours match up with the month.” He turned the computer back over to his brother who had finally finished his salad. “Okay Clouseau, let’s get going on those lottery numbers from the dates.” Dean handed the piece of paper with all the dates and birthdays listed to Sam and took a triumphant guzzle of his ale. It ended with a loud belch and his brother waving his hand in his face.

Sam scowled at him but grabbed the computer back. He quickly ran to the Georgia lottery website. Each date matched with the corresponding murder. “Well there is no doubt left that we found the link with 8 sets of murders with a 9th on the way. How are we going to figure out where it’s going to be?” Sam sighed and rocked in his chair, nursing his second beer.

A light bulb appeared over Dean’s head as he quickly pulled out their atlas from one of the bags, placing it on his bed. His mind raced back to the incident in Chicago where the blood spots on the floor made the pattern that ultimately led them to the Daevas. “Read me the names of the cities again. Start with the first one back in 2001.”

The younger looked to Dean, seeing where he was going. “Okay, we have Ashburn, Albany and Fitzgerald.” He paused to make sure that Dean was keeping up. When he got the thumbs up, he continued with the next set. “Lakeland, Willacoochee and Valdosta.” Dean giggled at the name once again and Sam threw a pencil at him. “Can you just keep your mind on the job?”

“Man grandma, who pissed in your Wheaties?” Dean shot back grabbing the pencil and putting it next to the map. “Okay, then we have Camilla and Ochlocknee.” He pulled back a little from the map and looked at it thoughtfully. The hunter turned to his brother. “Come ‘ere Sammy. Check this out.”

Sam rose from the chair and stared at the map before them, letting out his abbreviated snort.

“It’s a circle. It makes a freakin’ circle!”

Dean nodded his head finding his beer on the desk. “Yup, so that means it will probably hit either Dixie or Boston. That makes it complete.”

The young hunter stepped back from the map and cocked his head at it. “No, that isn’t right." His finger went down to the map and landed on the next city over.

“What, are you kidding me? It’s not in the right spot on the map. It’s over too far.”

Sam looked to Dean with resolve in his eyes. “I’m telling you, this is it,” he tapped on the map. “The next victims will be right here, in Thomasville.” The younger sibling had a look in his eye that Dean knew all too well. “There’s a reason we were drawn to this town. Even you must have felt it when you were going to stop in Ochlocknee and kept driving.” He paused and turned back to the map. “It’s going to happen here.”

“There’s 18,000 people in this town Sam, how the hell are we going to find them all?” Dean sank into the bed and pulled the atlas to his lap finishing off the remainder of the beer. “Thomasville. Damn son of a bitch!”

The computer was already in action again as Sam was pulling up the Thomasville website. “There’s a DMV right here in town. That will probably be the easiest way to find birthdays on the same day.” He pulled the list of towns and birthdays from under the computer, taking 1 more uninterested swig of his beer. The younger brother made a quick scan of the months. “If it follows any sort of pattern, and it seems that it does, it’ll be a May birthday. It’s chosen to use the first nine months of the year, that’s the only month that didn’t get hit. We can just pull the records for May.”

“Do you know how many stinkin’ people that’s gonna be? It’s an average of at least 1000 names! This totally sucks!”

“I don’t really see any other way Dean. If we don’t have something to jump on when those numbers are pulled, we lose ½ a day in research. At least we narrow it down this way.”

“Fine,” Dean said, throwing the atlas to Sam’s bed and grabbing another beer, offering 1 to Sam, who held up his still full second beer in reply. “Now, what’s this other crap we have to look at?”

“Testament of Solomon. It’s related to the key that Bobby had on the ceiling.” More clicking ensued and the next bookmarked page appeared. It was the full script with the part highlighted that Sam found. “Okay, so King Solomon was granted the authority by God to command the demons. They were forced to speak their names and give their weaknesses. When I did the research with key words, I came up with Bianakith. He is the 36th of 36 demons that were considered the elements; the world-rulers of darkness.”

“Hmm, 3’s and 6’s. Interesting. Go on.”

Sam considered that for a moment and nodded his head. “I never saw that connection Cato, nice work!”

“That’s why I get paid the big bucks,” Dean said as he made his way next to his brother, gulping again and planting himself in the chair. “So what does this dude do? Other than ripping people’s flesh off.”

“Well, according to the verse: The thirty-sixth said: "I am called Bianakith. I have a grudge against the body. I lay waste houses, I cause flesh to decay, and all else that is similar. If a man write on the front-door of his house: 'Mêltô, Ardu, Anaath,' I flee from that place."

“What the hell does Melto, Ardu, Anaath mean?”

“Honestly,” Sam began, “I haven’t got a clue. Robert and I were looking through some different languages, but couldn’t really come up with anything. I found Anaath in Hindi and it means ‘orphan,’ but that’s about it.” He chewed on another pencil that was near the computer and then he tapped the screen. “I would assume it has something to do with God or banishing. If it works, who cares what it means, right?

“Good point,” replied Dean looking at the verse again. “So this has to be written on the front door of these people’s houses? How are we going to do that? It’s not like we can knock on their door and say ‘Hi, you’re about to be attacked by a demon. We can repel it with these 3 little words,” he played off in a Vanna White style. “Oh, and by the way, have you accepted Jesus into your heart?’”

Sam produced a guttural laugh that made Dean smile in return. It didn’t take much to make Dean happy, but Sam’s laughter was one of those things that made this all worth it.

“Well, once we know the numbers at 10 p.m., we can split up and scribble it on their doors,” offered Sam with a lingering smile still on his face. “By the time they figure out they’ve been tagged, they’ll be safe.” He finished off his beer and tossed it in the trash next to the container of salad.

Dean nodded his head in agreement. “Work all night, then the S.O.B. doesn’t have a chance when he comes calling at 5 p.m. What if we make up stickers or something? That would be faster.”

The young hunter looked back to the screen. “It does say write on the front-door. I’d rather not take the chance. Sharpies in the corner of the front door and we’re golden.”

“Works for me.” Dean got up and addressed Sam’s bed. “Shall I draw back your covers your highness, or will you be sleeping among the sheep?”

Sam scoffed at him, shaking his head. He pulled off his layering shirt and sat on the bed. “You really are an ass you know.”

The cocky smile returned the comment. “Takes one to know one Eeoyre. Heee-haww.”

* * * *

Outside in the parking lot a man stood in shadow as he watched the light click off to the hunters’ room.

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