Free Bone Key by Keith R.A. DeCandido

most important place in your life.”
    “It was. But my life is over, and this is no longer my home. It is past time I moved on, don’t you think, Mr. Winchester?”
    Since that plan had been in the back of Dean’s mind in any case—leaving aside any other considerations, the spirit would be bad for Nicki and Bodge’s business—it was easy enough for him to say, “Sure, no problem.”
    “Normally at this juncture, I would spit on my hand and offer it to you.”
    “Let’s not and say we did,” Dean said, as Sam slid the door open with one hand while placing his phone back in his pocket with the other. “What’d Bobby say?”
    Sam cut his eyes toward Naylor, but Dean waved him off. “He’s cool.”
    After giving Dean a we’ll-talk-about-this-later look, Sam said, “Bobby hasn’t heard of anything like this, either, but he said he’d dig through his library and see what turns up.”
    Dean liked it better when Bobby knew everything off the top of his head, which meant Dean could cut right to the part where they kicked ass. Sam continued: “He also said that this is the first time Yaphet’s been right about anything since he said the Beatles would break up.”
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    That got a laugh from Dean. “C’mon, let’s check across the street, then track down Yaphet.”
    “Best of luck, gentlemen,” Naylor said. “May God be with you—for all our sakes.”
    Then the spirit disappeared. No fading, no movement—one second he was there, the next he wasn’t.
    Dean looked at Sam and grinned. “Spooky.”
    To his credit, Sam didn’t dignify that awful joke with a reply. “Why’s he wishing us luck?”
    As they left, Dean explained his conversation with the captain. He finished with: “It’s weird.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well, we salt and burn these people ’cause they’re causing a fuss. Never really thought about it from the spirit’s side. Remember that job in New York we did about a year or so back?”
    Sam smiled as they went into the main house through the back door. “I remember you geeking out over the guy’s vinyl collection.”
    Ignoring the dig—although Manfred Afiri did have an amazing record collection that Dean seriously envied—he said, “We didn’t salt and burn the bones because we needed the body to prove that she’d been killed.”
    “I remember, yeah. You think we should’ve?”
    After giving a quick wave to Bodge, sitting at the front desk, they went out the front door. “I dunno. I mean, Manfred has both our numbers, and he 82 SUPERNATURAL
    woulda called if the spirit acted up again, but—”
    He shook his head as he swung the wrought-iron gate open with a low squeak. “Did we do her spirit any favors by not letting her move on?”
    Sam peered down at his brother. “Since when are you the whiny emo bitch of this partnership?”
    Rolling his eyes, Dean said, “Kiss my ass, Sammy, you know what I mean.”
    “I do, I’m just stunned to hear you say it.”
    “What, I can’t be philosophical once in a while?”
    Sam smiled. “As long as it’s only once in a while, I guess.”
    “Gee thanks.”
    They crossed Eaton and approached the house with the turret.
    Unfortunately, the door was locked, crime-scene tape flapped in one of the bushes in front of the house, and the sign in the window read closed until further notice.
    “Guess a double homicide really is bad for business,” Sam muttered.
    “Yeah. I’d rather wait until there’s a few fewer folks on the street before we try going at it with our mad lockpicking skillz.”
    Sam gave Dean a withering look. “Right. So what, we talk to this Yaphet guy?”
    “May as well.” Dean chuckled. “Remember how Manfred was a trip back to the sixties?”
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    “Yeah.”
    “Yaphet’s worse.”
    Shuddering, Sam said, “Okay, now I’m scared.”
    At that, Dean just grinned as he led Sam toward Duval Street.
    Ah, this is the life, Dean thought as he felt the cool breeze blow through his short