The Sound of Silence: Excerpt
Dean was in Washington D.C, which, despite his nomadic nature, he had never actually seen before. Back when Sam was still around, they’d hit the small towns - Midwestern mostly. Apparently there was just something about evil that made it want to hit the Midwest. There was some kind of monster in D.C. though, and hunters were spread thin, which is why Dean Winchester made the 301 mile trip from St. Clairsville, Ohio where he’d been dealing with an angry spirit.
He had no particular interest in looking at the tourist attractions, and, truth told, he felt kind of claustrophobic. And maybe that was why they always seemed to hit the small towns. Maybe that was why the one thing he loved more than almost anything else was the open road. You didn’t get that bumper-to-bumper inner-city highway thing.
The aftermath of the apocalypse was indiscriminate though, and he wasn’t about to let some creature ravage an entire city just because he was a little uncomfortable.
The hotel he was staying in was a little swankier than usual - everything was kinda swanky in that part of town, and Dean took some glee in donning the complementary bathrobe. The room service prices, though, were a little less joyous.
‘Seventeen bucks for a burger,’ he muttered. ‘Un-freaking-believable.’
If Sam were still around, he might have pointed out the fact that they were using a fake credit card anyway, but he wasn’t, and instead, Dean flicked the TV on, but it wasn’t really the same.
* * *
Emily Prentiss’ condo was the epitome of loneliness. She’d just gotten back from Arizona, and the empty kitchen, the empty living room, the empty bedroom - it was as though they were all mocking her.
Part of that was the exhaustion, of course. Three bodies in five days didn’t exactly promote a good night’s sleep. Once upon a time, that would have been just another part of the job, but things have been a lot harder since…
She shook herself out of the reverie and went straight to the refrigerator. She had a half-empty bottle of red that needed finishing, and because she didn’t particularly want to drink on an empty stomach, she found some frozen leftovers to reheat.
There were half a dozen files on her coffee table - half a dozen unsolved cases that just did not make sense. Once upon a time, she might have shown the files to Hotch, or maybe Rossi, but she couldn’t really do that anymore.
Those times were long since past.
There had been a lot of death for a while; a lot of death that simply didn’t fit any profile they could have given. That had all died down about a year ago, but it hadn’t gone without a fight. The BAU still got their fair share of weird cases, but they were fewer and further between, and in many circumstances, they didn’t even look like serial cases. Not that she would know anything about that. Reid would have been able to put it all together, but she couldn’t exactly call on him either. Not without a Ouija board, and she’d left that kind of stuff behind with her angsty teenage years.
A phone call dragged her from the nostalgic reverie. ‘Prentiss,’ she answered, in a tired voice.
‘How was Arizona?’ Garcia’s voice was like a candle in the darkness.
‘Complete bust,’ she replied, letting the wine swirl around the bottom of her glass. ‘If I didn’t know better, I would’ve said satanic cult, but we’ve all read…’ We’ve all read Rossi’s books, she was going to say, but it was still painful to bring them up, even now.
‘I get you,’ Garcia said in that reassuring tone of hers. ‘And I hate to give you this after you just got back, but…’
‘Another one?’ Emily groaned, setting her glass down on the table.
‘Sorry, sweetcheeks. It’s like they’re teleporting, or something.’ The tech was joking, of course, but at that point, Emily was about to consider leprechauns as a viable suspect. She grabbed the notepad that was sitting next to the files, and jotted down the address of the latest attack.
Gun already strapped to her hip, and her bag still mostly packed, there wasn’t much else she had to do - the case was a local one at least, which meant she wouldn’t need to be using up her frequent flier miles on another wild goose chase.
‘Be careful, Emily,’ Garcia said, her tone somber, and Emily let her face fall into a grimace.
They’d lost enough already.
He had no particular interest in looking at the tourist attractions, and, truth told, he felt kind of claustrophobic. And maybe that was why they always seemed to hit the small towns. Maybe that was why the one thing he loved more than almost anything else was the open road. You didn’t get that bumper-to-bumper inner-city highway thing.
The aftermath of the apocalypse was indiscriminate though, and he wasn’t about to let some creature ravage an entire city just because he was a little uncomfortable.
The hotel he was staying in was a little swankier than usual - everything was kinda swanky in that part of town, and Dean took some glee in donning the complementary bathrobe. The room service prices, though, were a little less joyous.
‘Seventeen bucks for a burger,’ he muttered. ‘Un-freaking-believable.’
If Sam were still around, he might have pointed out the fact that they were using a fake credit card anyway, but he wasn’t, and instead, Dean flicked the TV on, but it wasn’t really the same.
* * *
Emily Prentiss’ condo was the epitome of loneliness. She’d just gotten back from Arizona, and the empty kitchen, the empty living room, the empty bedroom - it was as though they were all mocking her.
Part of that was the exhaustion, of course. Three bodies in five days didn’t exactly promote a good night’s sleep. Once upon a time, that would have been just another part of the job, but things have been a lot harder since…
She shook herself out of the reverie and went straight to the refrigerator. She had a half-empty bottle of red that needed finishing, and because she didn’t particularly want to drink on an empty stomach, she found some frozen leftovers to reheat.
There were half a dozen files on her coffee table - half a dozen unsolved cases that just did not make sense. Once upon a time, she might have shown the files to Hotch, or maybe Rossi, but she couldn’t really do that anymore.
Those times were long since past.
There had been a lot of death for a while; a lot of death that simply didn’t fit any profile they could have given. That had all died down about a year ago, but it hadn’t gone without a fight. The BAU still got their fair share of weird cases, but they were fewer and further between, and in many circumstances, they didn’t even look like serial cases. Not that she would know anything about that. Reid would have been able to put it all together, but she couldn’t exactly call on him either. Not without a Ouija board, and she’d left that kind of stuff behind with her angsty teenage years.
A phone call dragged her from the nostalgic reverie. ‘Prentiss,’ she answered, in a tired voice.
‘How was Arizona?’ Garcia’s voice was like a candle in the darkness.
‘Complete bust,’ she replied, letting the wine swirl around the bottom of her glass. ‘If I didn’t know better, I would’ve said satanic cult, but we’ve all read…’ We’ve all read Rossi’s books, she was going to say, but it was still painful to bring them up, even now.
‘I get you,’ Garcia said in that reassuring tone of hers. ‘And I hate to give you this after you just got back, but…’
‘Another one?’ Emily groaned, setting her glass down on the table.
‘Sorry, sweetcheeks. It’s like they’re teleporting, or something.’ The tech was joking, of course, but at that point, Emily was about to consider leprechauns as a viable suspect. She grabbed the notepad that was sitting next to the files, and jotted down the address of the latest attack.
Gun already strapped to her hip, and her bag still mostly packed, there wasn’t much else she had to do - the case was a local one at least, which meant she wouldn’t need to be using up her frequent flier miles on another wild goose chase.
‘Be careful, Emily,’ Garcia said, her tone somber, and Emily let her face fall into a grimace.
They’d lost enough already.