I'll Tell You My Sins so You Can Sharpen Your Knife

One Year Later

“Here.” Dean said, spinning his laptop around to face his brother. “This one.”

Sam scanned the page. “So? People die in house fires in Buffalo all the time. It’s probably a gang shooting. Or that serial killer they had a few years back that they never caught.”

Dean turned the laptop back so he could read it. “Two women, all locked from the inside, all wealthy and young, and none of them were liked by their neighbors.” Dean switched between a few tabs in his browser. “And the same happened in Detroit. Philadelphia. Cleveland. But in those cities, anywhere between five and ten women were killed. In house fires. So whoever is doing this isn’t done yet in Buffalo.”

“Give me that.”

Dean handed the laptop back over and waited while Sam looked at all the web pages.

“Are you sure you’re ready to work again?” Sam asked with a sigh.

Dean snapped the laptop shut and picked it up. “Let’s go. We can get some food on the road.”

Sam watched his brother throw a few last things into a bag. With a sigh he stood, cracked his neck, and began to gather his own things.

Dean mindlessly turned his old phone over in his hand. “Hey, uh, you ever hear from Sarah?”

Sam had been dreading that question. “Not in a while. I, uh…called her to tell her when you and Cass. Actually, she wanted to give you a Norse funeral. But I haven’t heard from her since.”

“So not only did you let Kevin blow away in the wind, you also dropped the only person that Cass ever cared about.”

“No, look. She told me to drop by whenever I was in Missouri. And I happened to be up there – “

“Why were you in Missouri?”

“Just…never mind. Her phone was disconnected so I finally tracked her down through some old newspaper ads and when I got there, her house was boarded up, the battery was out of the car, and she was gone.”

“And you’re sure you don’t have any missed calls from her?”

“You’re the one who listened to them.” Sam zipped up his bag. “You could just say the real reason you asked about her.”

“And what reason would that be?”

Sam rolled his eyes and headed outside to the car.

~*~

By the time the brothers got to Buffalo, another woman had been killed. Dean had gone to the medical examiner alone, and when he came back Sam was studying maps that he spread across the beds.

“Same thing.” Dean said, loosening his tie. “What’s all this?”

“Check it out.” Sam said, standing and passing him one of the maps. “This is all of the murders that happened in Detroit.”

Dean held up the map. When connected, the locations made a pentagram.

“Huh. Weird.”

“Philly and Cleveland were like that too. Are you sure that this isn’t just some psycho who’s reading too many books about wicca?”

“No.” Dean admitted. “I just really wanted chicken wings.”

“What?”

“I’m kidding. Where would the next local one be?”

Sam drew a few lines on his Buffalo map. “Hurtle Avenue and the other would be on Niagara Falls Boulevard.”

“Alright. We’ll split up.” Dean checked his watch. “Nothing will happen for another few hours. Let’s go get wings.”

~*~

It was two in the morning and Hurtle Avenue was empty. Dean sat in the car and watched the street, using a coffee to keep his hands warm. Buffalo was freezing. He had all but forgotten what cold was like.

A homeless woman rattled across the street with a shopping cart. She hummed a tune that tickled the back of Dean’s mind.

Dean looked back at the apartment he was watching. Nothing seemed wrong.

The light in the apartment. It was orange. Was it flickering?

Suddenly a dark figure slammed against the window. Upon closer look, it was a completely charred body.

Dean began to curse as he threw the car door open. There was a crash as the homeless woman’s cart slammed into the car, and her bulky figure sprinted across the street. Dean slammed the car door and ran after her.

“Hey!”

The woman headed for an alley right next to the apartment that was now clearly on fire. She stood below the fire escape and pushed the ladder up, then started to run for a back door. Dean sped up and tackled her, pinning her to the ground.

“I don’t know what you are.” He growled, pulling a knife from his waist band. “But your sick game is over.”

The woman struggled and Dean flipped her over, and then froze. “Sarah?”

She coughed. “Hey, Dean. I heard you were back.”

She was dirty, and smelled disgusting. She probably had four layers of clothes on under a man’s jean jacket. She had some sort of sore on the corner of her mouth. She looked exhausted and underfed. But those eyes were still as green as ever.

She pushed Dean off her and sat up. “Sorry about your car.” She grunted, trying to stand. “But I had to stop you.”

“From what?”

She looked around nervously as sirens came into earshot. “Can we talk somewhere else? This isn’t safe.”

Dean sighed. “Sure. I’ll take you to the motel.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“Niagara Falls Boulevard. Not far from the motel. He can walk back. I want to talk to you first.”

He led her back towards the car, and she looked at her feet as she walked. That was different. He was different. Something had changed.

Hopefully for the better. But with Dean, she never knew.