Supernatural: War of the Sons by Rebecca Dessertine, David Reed

door, the girl who called herself Julia Wilder followed close behind. She was now wearing a blonde wig and a light-green suit. It was the best disguise she could put together from her suitcase upstairs. Now that she had confirmed that the two young men were working together, she allowed them to escape from her sight and made her way to the lobby phones.
    “Columbia 367,” she directed. After several seconds, a voice answered the phone. “Hi. It’s me. You were right, they’re together. Definitely casing the place.”
    As the other party spoke into her ear, Julia’s face fell.
    “No, I know. They won’t. I won’t let them,” she said.
    With that, she hung up and went back to her room.

TEN

    In Dean’s pretty extensive life experience, there really wasn’t very much that could compare to a good bacon cheeseburger. Despite that, the hot dog—with everything—that he devoured as he and Sam marched back to their apartment came close.
    Sam was decidedly less enthusiastic about their dinner.
    “Nothing like mystery meat you bought from a guy wearing a skirt,” he said distastefully, swallowing the last of the bun and flicking ketchup off his fingers onto the sidewalk.
    The sun had set behind the towering buildings, casting long inky shadows over the boys’ route. But as the city fell into darkness, it seemed to be coming alive.
    “Can you imagine the kind of supernatural critters that must be running around these alleys?” Dean asked as they passed a particularly decrepit-looking apartment complex.
    “Dad’s journal had a lot on New York,” Sam replied. “Wouldn’t be surprising if there were other hunters working the city—we know there are in the future,” he said thinking of General Cox. Sam gave his brother a cautious look, as if he was worried Dean wouldn’t like what he was going to say next. “It might be something to consider if we need backup.”
    “Backup schmackup,” Dean responded. “What do we need other hunters for? We’ve got guns. Plus, you think we’d be able to convince anyone to help us once we start talking about the Apocalypse... and coming from the future ?”
    “Guess you’re right.”
    “Damn straight. We tell anybody what we’re doing here, we risk them interfering,” Dean said definitively, knowing that interference may well be the least of their troubles. That certain people—and/or forces of Hell—would kill or worse in order to stop Sam and Dean was left unspoken. They both knew it, so it bore no repeating.
    They walked up the cracked steps of Villard House. The sound of an ancient television set echoed out of the landlady’s open door as they passed by.
    “Lady’s watching the DuMont Network in there,” Dean said with a grin.
    “The what?” Sam asked, his brow furrowed.
    Dean just stared at him, incredulous. He sometimes forgot how young Sam was. Not that Dean himself had been alive to watch the DuMont Network, which, in 1954, was due to be shut down in two years, but he watched enough TV to be familiar with its history.
    “ Cavalcade of Stars ? The Honeymooners ? Not ringing a bell? Seriously?”
    “Do you watch those shows before or after Dr. Sexy, M.D. ?” Sam asked, derisively.
    “I’m off Dr. Sexy ,” Dean said.
    “Tell me again about the girl,” Sam said, his voice serious.
    “Julia.”
    “She was tailing you?”
    Dean slipped the key into the door of their apartment.
    “She was definitely interested,” he replied.
    “Becky Rosen interested, or demon Meg interested?” Sam probed.
    “Listen buddy, both of those chiquitas were after you,” Dean said, trying to keep the vision of Becky rubbing Sam’s chest out of his mind. “So, where are they?” Dean looked around the room. “You lose the guns just like you lost the knife?”
    “Dean, it was stolen,” Sam retorted. Then, realization dawned on him. “... By a girl . Brunette, cute, about five-foot six?”
    Dean nodded.
    “Could be the same girl that brushed past me in the hall,”