After two weeks, the Impala was cruising down the road with Dean playing classic hard rock through the speakers.
He had one hand on the wheel, looking more relaxed than he had in a while, while Sam sat beside him with the case file.
Henry was in the back seat, enjoying the unusually quiet stretch of road.
"It really feels like ages since we've been on a proper hunt, just the three of us," Dean said, eyes on the road.
"A lot has been going on. We got caught up in that whole mess," Sam replied.
"Yeah, compared to demon and angel trouble, I prefer the hunt. At least then we don't have to worry about something chasing our asses," Henry said.
It had been two weeks since the whole Heaven-on-his-ass situation, and although the angels hadn't bothered him since, Henry still caught those disgusting looks from Castiel whenever they crossed paths.
He wasn't sure what bothered him more — the fact that Heaven wanted him dead, or the way Castiel looked at him like he was some unsolved problem.
Dean turned the music down slightly and glanced at Sam. "So, Sammy, go over the case again."
Sam opened the file. "In McCook, Nebraska, two security guards at the city museum were found dead about a week ago."
Dean frowned. "Cause of death?"
"Something took a huge chunk out of their necks. They bled out."
"That's pretty damn specific."
Sam nodded. "The cameras stopped working that night, so nobody knows what did it. Since then, rumors have been going around that the museum is haunted and nobody wants to work there at night." He turned a page.
"Three days ago, a thief broke in. His body was found afterward, but his head had been completely severed."
Dean stared ahead for a moment. "Okay. Two dead security guards, a headless thief, busted cameras, and a supposedly haunted museum." He turned the music back up.
"Sounds like a hunt."
***
They reached McCook later that day and drove straight to the museum. The three of them changed into their FBI suits before heading inside.
The museum was noticeably quiet, with only a couple of visitors moving between the exhibits.
Dean approached the front desk and showed his badge when the curator came over.
The curator looked relieved but tired. "Well, even the FBI has come now. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised after what happened here." He glanced toward the mostly empty floor.
"Three murders in the last week, and visitors have dropped considerably because of all these haunting rumors."
Dean kept his expression professional. "We just need to ask you a few questions about what happened."
The curator sighed. "Ask whatever you need. I'd like to know what's going on here as much as you do."
The curator led them through the main exhibit while Dean and Sam asked about the night of the first deaths.
Henry stayed slightly behind, quietly sweeping the rooms with an EMF meter.
"Did anything unusual happen that night?" Sam asked. "Anything that might explain why the cameras stopped working?"
The curator shook his head. "Nothing I noticed. The guards did their normal rounds, and everything seemed fine until they were found dead the next morning."
Dean glanced around. "What about before that? Strange noises, objects moving, people acting weird?"
"Nothing like that. We have old artifacts here, but nothing has ever caused a problem."
Henry wasn't listening anymore.
He had wandered toward a section marked HISTORICAL COLLECTION, where several old artifacts were displayed behind glass — old weapons, religious objects, books, various items connected to folk practices and supposed occult traditions.
He moved the EMF meter slowly across the display cases.
The readings remained normal.
Then the meter started screaming.
Henry stopped. He looked down at the device as the needle jumped wildly. "Well, that's new."
He turned toward the display responsible for the reading and walked closer. Behind the glass was an old, weathered book resting on a stand.
His expression changed the moment he saw it.
What the fuck is this thing doing here?
He stepped closer to the glass. The cover was old and battered, strange markings carved across it.
That's the Necronomicon.
His stomach tightened. The Book of the Dead. Naturom Demonto.
He had seen enough supernatural crap in his life to know that book wasn't some harmless museum artifact. Whatever had brought it here had just turned a simple investigation into something far worse.
Henry slowly looked back toward Dean and Sam, still talking to the curator.
What the hell is a book from the Evil Dead doing in a museum in Nebraska?
He kept his eyes on it, and suddenly the strange deaths made a lot more sense.
Two security guards with chunks torn from their necks, a thief found decapitated, and now this sitting behind museum glass like a tourist attraction.
So that's probably the reason.
His grip tightened around the EMF meter. But did someone actually read from it?
If someone had opened it and read the passages inside, they could have unleashed something that possessed people and turned them into violent, twisted creatures.
He stared through the glass at the ancient book. This causes way more trouble than a normal haunting. If somebody read from it, the deaths weren't random at all.
He glanced toward Dean and Sam.
Yeah. We definitely found the source of the problem.
*****
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