[center][IMG]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v161/absolute_jrock/bb67945e-5fde-49a8-9572-678f46368071_zps839edce4.jpg[/IMG]

[b]Dean Winchester[/b]
[i]“I'm gonna go stop the Big Bad Wolf. Which is the weirdest thing I've ever said.”[/i][/center]

 “What are you doing?” Sam asked bluntly as be observed his brother sit on the edge of their motel bed and start strapping on rubber boots. “Well, I figured, if we’re going swamp digging, I’m gonna be a little more prepared for this. You should do the same Sammy. Plus,” the man said as he stood up and turned around to face his other half, “I hate wet socks. You know, that squishy feeling that you can’t get rid of in your shoe when they’re wet – hate it.” The man then began to throw whatever other belongings he had in a backpack and lugged it across his shoulder. “Alright, let’s do this,” Dean said and marched out the front door towards their beloved awaiting black chariot parked outside. Sam shook his head and followed his brother out the door, only to momentarily stop by the front desk and return the keys. Dean had already take position in the driver’s seat and pulled off once his brother was situated in the car. “You know. I never thought we would be going alligator gigging,” Dean commented, “I guess there’s a first for everything.” There was a momentary silence as Sam looked at Dean through the corner of his eyes, “..You don’t go ‘gigging’ for alligators. You just hunt them and we’re not hunting an alligator, we’re looking for a kappa and a dead voodoo princess.”

“So we’re looking for a witch and her enchanted animal,” Dean carelessly spoke, “Doesn’t matter to me as long as I get to party on bourbon a night or two.” Sam rolled his eyes and buried his nose into the map, “Right and get lost for a day. You don’t handle absinthe well on top of hurricanes.” Dean laughed and grinned excitedly, “Aw, man, Sam, you need to live a little. That shit makes you believe that fairies are real.” There was a sudden silence in the car between the two.

“They’re called Redcaps in England.”

“Okay. All right. Fairies are real.”

“Got you to admit that one,” Sam smirked and looked at his older brother. Dean laughed and drove on. That was the last mission he and his little brother had gone on together. Sam went missing after that. No one could find him. Not Ash. Not Bobby. It drove Dean crazy. After their escapade in Louisiana, Dead hooked up at motel on the outskirts of Nebraska, close enough to where he could drop by the Roadhouse if need be to look up some of the usual shit: demonic locations, people, places, and unidentifiable things. It made it easy for Dean. It also made it easier to get free booze when Jo gave it to him. Ever since he lost Sam, Dean wasn’t himself. He shut down and couldn’t function. He honestly couldn’t function without his little brother. It was rather sad, depressing, and pathetic – at least, in his eyes. Sam just was his other half that kept him in check, kept him together, and kept him believing on family. 

But wasn’t that the point of his father’s sacrifice? So Dean could continue on and look after Sam? So he could keep taking care of his pain in the ass little brother? What the fuck happened? How could he have screwed up that bad?

As Dean sat there, laying in the cozy warm bed in his room, his phone rang. Immediately, he reached for the phone, praying that it was his little brother. “Hello?” eagerly he answered until he discovered it wasn’t his Sam. It was Ellen. Of course. Another job. What else did he do with his life except kill things? “Right…okay. I’m on it. Thanks,” Dean hung up on the phone in silence before angrily tossing it across the room. “Damn it, Sam. This is getting old. I’m getting old and tired of this shit,” he huffed as he climbed out of the bed and threw on his clothes. Begrudgingly, Dean returned the key to the motel owner and moved over to his baby, parked off to the side. 

The destination was Saint Paul, Minnesota, where there was rumor of crazy shit going down in an underground caves that were once used as a brothel. The caves were opened to the public for haunted tours but, apparently, the tours were getting so haunted that the guests were disappearing against their will. Bodies would turn up once in a while and, according to Ash, it was a ‘goldmine’ for hunters due to the area being haunted by more than one vengeful s.o.b. Good. He needed to take out his aggression on something and if killing ghosts was his method of ‘release’ then, by all means, he was ready. It was a ten hour long drive but nothing could really stand in his way, especially since he hadn’t been sleeping all that well as of late. How could he? He felt like his heart was ripped from his chest. The last time he felt that way was when their father died right in front of him. It took some getting over, but, he managed knowing he had to be the rock for his little brother.

Hours later, he arrived in the city of Saint Paul under the cloak of the dark night. Dean drove past the ‘site’ at a slow pace, giving it a once look over. The Impala came to a halt near the large archway entrance. He knew he was at the right place as he saw the signs “Wabasha Street Caves,” even though these were supposed to be “hidden” at one point in time. “Good job keeping up the mojo. I wouldn’t be surprised with all this whoop-dee-do that they’d piss off some dead people,” Dean murmured to himself before grabbing his scanner and getting out of the car. The man approached the building and began scanning the entrance slowly and only stopped when the lights flashed on his tool with a high reading and then suddenly go dead. The man quickly looked up to find a white figure staring at him from the left off on cold dead soil. The figure was a lovely flapper girl, with a very ‘pin up’ look to her – except that her eyes had blood trickling down her cheeks from their corners. Dean stood there in silence, unsure of what to say or debating if he should even make a move. Was it vengeful? Was it going to attack? Or, was this a warning omen for what else lay waiting inside? 

He knew there were dead gangsters waiting for him, along with other crooks, robbers, and murderers that came to visit the one upon a brothel. He assumed there were also other girls like her, waiting for someone like him to come along and help them. The figure stepped off of her post and began to walk towards him until the sound of echoing gunshots appeared. The girl stepped back and clutched her hands to her chest in fear before dropping to her knees, whimpering. Dean watched the show before him with wide eyes until she thus vanished. After a moment of silence, Dean uttered a ‘huh’ and pressed his back against the side of his car. There were definitely some dead spirits in there just waiting for him to come find them. Dean grabbed his phone and began to dial Ash, wanting him to research some more about the place.