"Well then, what's the point?" Dean had acquired the inane habit of making slightly off-key jokes with Cas since they'd learned about that crap with the other versions of themselves. It felt like one more nail in the coffins this place was putting them in, another strange detail that had been changed that turned their body doubles from bizarre to surreal. It made them like off-color caricatures, mocking them. Most of the time, he hoped they were just shifters with a screwed up sense of humor. "Don't tell me you'd miss the Barracuda," he interjected, accepting that unintentional segue to bring his mind back around to less troubling thoughts. "There's a reason they stopped making them in seventy-four."
"Yeah," was his reply. Dean was only half-listening, focused more on making sure that he had everything he needed; salt, holy water, spray paint, the angel blade, and the knife he and Sam had gotten from Ruby. His time in the pit had given him tools that made carrying all of this seem obsolete, but Dean was just as much a creature of habit now as he was before, and he was prepared for everything, including some supernatural leveling of the playing field that would make his abilities useless. "At least isn't Friday the thirteenth."
Without taking his eyes off the building, Dean fell into step with Cas though he made no move to visibly arm himself. His old .45 pressed cold against him but remained holstered for the time being. The closer they got to the house proper, the more Dean couldn't help but shake the fact that this whole place felt too.... cinematic. There was even a stray rumble of thunder from a cloudless sky and a chilled wind had picked up the second they passed through the wrought-iron gate. Cold enough that the girl on the other side of that shrill screaming seemed more out of place than even he anticipated. Clad in Leia's slave 'uniform,' clearly just brought despite somehow looking dated, she stood in stark contrast to the dilapidated house behind her.
"Are you," she continued in that same ear-splitting octave, "Ya know? Cops? Please, you gotta help us."
Dean reached into his pocket, pulling out one of his many meticulously crafted badges and pointed the mag-lite at her. "Detective Page. This is my partner, Detective Ivey. We're off-duty but heard there was some commotion in the area. You said monsters were attacking your friends?"
The smell of sulfur was so potent even from out here that Dean had no doubts what was inside terrorizing her friends but at the same time, he couldn't understand why. A demon ripping apart teenagers must need something and that much blood and terror would give them plenty of power. He'd never given that much thought to magic, having no real interest in witchcraft, but he knew more than a handful of demons did, especially the crossroads demons. But then again, he'd never seen a crossroads demon get their hands dirty.