"Ahah!" Sam exclaimed, "I found out that this 'McGucket' guy had some buddies who died the same way. Beaten with a baseball bat." Dean slammed the file he was looking through shut.
"Well there we go. Let's go find the bodies and burn them." He said. (M/N) scoffed.
"If it was that easy we might as well just go tell the ghosts pretty please." He said. Dean frowned more intensely than earlier.
"Then what do you suppose we do?" Dean said saltily.
"Find the murder weapon and burn that." (M/N) said.
"How the hell are we supposed to do that??" Dean questioned.
"Ask around, my poor Bar Guy." (M/N) replied.
"Oh, of course, obviously, my annoying little bluebell." Dean said. (M/N) rolled his eyes and stood up.
"Luckily, I know just the place to start."

"So who's house is this again?" Sam asked.
"An old friend's." (M/N) answered.
"And so we're braking in?" Dean questioned.
"Yep." (M/N) said, hauling himself through the window. He helped Sam and Dean through then forbid them from walking any further. He grabbed a pebble from his pocket then dropped it out onto on of the kitchen tiles. The tile suddenly snapped close like a bear trap, turning the pebble to dust.
"Jeez." Dean said.
"Follow me." (M/N) said.
     He started stepping on some specific tiles very carefully. The boys did the same. They reached the end of the kitchen. He then took a final step and leaped across the hallway and onto the carpet.
"Oh come on." Dean said, "I can't make that."
"You're gonna have to." (M/N) said while stretching.
"Come on Dean." Sam said, jumping over it, barely landing.
"You're tiny and light and agile and you're a giant- you guys have advantages." Dean complained.
"Come on you whiny baby." (M/N) said. Dean scowled.
"I'm not a whiny baby." He said, jumping over.
"Oh, good job! You did such a good job." (M/N) said and proceeded to baby talk Dean.
"Shut the hell up." Dean said and (M/N) laughed.
     They walked up the stairs and (M/N) kicked the door to a bedroom open.
"Hey, bud," (M/N) said, "I need your baseball bat."
"What?" Sam questioned, "this guy's the murderer."
"Why d'you think he had those traps." (M/N) said.
"S'in the closet.." An old man sitting in a swivel chair said.
"Thanks." (M/N) said, opening the closet. He grabbed the baseball bat and headed out the door with not another word.