"A safe place to forge without worrying about demons raiding your home. Sooner or later, you'll run into them here. The Apocalypse concerns the entire world; no one can hide from it."
"There are also plenty of top-grade materials. We've recently acquired quite a few angel and demon 'parts' that need someone to process them. And..." Dean said seriously, "an opportunity to have the things you make actually used on a battlefield protecting more people, instead of being bought by collectors as decorations."
Grayson remained silent for a long time.
At last, he stubbed out his cigarette. "I need to see your place first. If it's really like you say... I can consider it."
Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to contact Sam and report the progress, the emergency communicator at his waist suddenly began vibrating wildly.
He thought something had happened to Sam, but upon looking closely, he saw that it was Bobby's!
It was a distress signal!
Internet Addiction had already locked onto the location of the distress call: a rundown motel beside a remote highway in Nevada.
"Damn it!" Dean shot to his feet. "Mr. Grayson, something happened here. I have to—"
"Go." The old man waved a hand. "The keys are on the table. My beat-up truck can handle mountain roads. I'll find the place myself and take a look first. As for what we didn't finish saying... we can talk after you deal with this."
By the time Dean arrived at top speed, it was already deep into the night.
Two letters were missing from the sign of the "Starlight Motel," its neon lights flickering on and off. The entire building radiated an ominous silence.
Dean drew his gun and carefully pushed open the motel door.
The lobby was empty.