Oh, it’s a hard road
Oh, it’s a hard road

Dean clenched his fists, filled with an angry energy that he needed to dissipate. "That son of a bitch."

"Who?” Sam turned around and looked at his brother. “Dad?” His mouth dropped open when Dean went stone faced and didn’t reply. “The man that made us who we are today? You actually just called him a son of a bitch?" Sam smiled, amused at his brother’s all too infrequent anger at their father.

Dean exhaled, not wanting to get into a discussion with his brother about this matter. He turned and picked up the duffle bags on the bed. "Get in the car."

"Wait,” Sam grabbed his brother’s arm. Dean glared at the arm, and Sam let go. Quickly closing the laptop, he followed Dean out the door to the car. “What is up with you, this town and Dad? I’d rather know the whole story going in, not like last time. . .”

Sam didn’t have to mention their encounter with the shtriga; he knew that Dean would understand what he was referring to. Sam didn’t receive a reply; instead there was a hard, unnatural slamming of the trunk. “I ran a search and the only story to come up in, or around, Liston was about someone who went crazy and then died in the church.” Sam opened the passenger side door.

“Who?” Dean interrupted, urgently adding again as he opened the driver’s side door, “Who?”

“Michael Lindstrom,” Sam replied and Dean relaxed, placing the keys in the ignition. “Did you know him?”