A\N:Hellooo! So I'm a late bloomer. I just started watching SPN about two weeks ago. Honestly, it was one of the best choices I've ever made in my life! Unfortunately, however, that means I haven't quite caught up (I'm working on it- halfway through season 4! Wooo!). So for those of you who ARE caught up... this particular ficlet probably takes place somewhere in the early days of SPN. In all honesty, its just a good old hunting fic. This is my first SPN fic, so hopefully I don't screw things up too bad. I hope I can keep people fairly well in character...
I came up with this idea while I was doing my anthropology reading the other day. So... hopefully no one is too familiar with the supernatural creature I'm going to use. If you are, well, I've tweaked it a little, just so it will make sense with the story, and plus the only research I've done on it was for my anthro class. So I'm not really an expert. :C
So. Read. Review? Let me know your thoughts (especially if there are things you think I could improve!) and what not. Hope I do justice to this fantastic show!
PS- This starts as a flashback thingy... just so you don't read it and wonder where the hell the Winchesters are. C:
"Emerson? Sweetheart, it's time for bed," Stephanie Brinson called up the stairs. She found it odd that her four year old had been incredibly quiet for the past few hours. Usually the kid was bouncing off the walls and talking her ear off. Usually, if Emerson was quiet, that meant he was finding some way to get himself into trouble. Her husband, Daniel, was supposed to have been reading to Emerson, but it wouldn't surprise her if Daniel fell asleep instead of Emerson. She sighed and climbed the stairs. She was met halfway by a wide-eyed husband.
"Daniel?" she asked, panic bubbling in her chest. "What's wrong?"
"He's not in his room," Daniel said, panicking. "He's not anywhere upstairs. Please tell me he was downstairs with you."
"No," she said, her heart sinking. "I thought you were with him!"
"I was!" Daniel cried. "But I… I just blacked out, I guess. I don't really remember much." Daniel continued to rush down the stairs, Stephanie following after him. He flipped on the kitchen light and began searching for a flashlight in one of the drawers.
"Oh my God," Stephanie breathed as soon as she entered the kitchen. "Daniel, you're bleeding!"
"What?" Daniel said, pausing his search. His hand flew to the side of his head where he had a dull pain- a pain which he had ignored until now. His fingers made contact with something wet. His own blood. Realization hit him shortly afterwards. He hadn't blacked out- he was knocked out. He remembered… someone… something… He looked over at his panicked wife. "Honey, go lock all the doors and windows." He picked up a slender flashlight from the drawer and headed for the front door.
"What are you-"
"I'm going to find Emerson. Call the police as soon as you've locked everything, okay?" Daniel turned towards the front door.
The phone rang.
Daniel froze in his tracks, and Stephanie rushed to answer. It was a blocked number. Usually these blocked callers weren't suspicious. Especially in this town. But given the circumstances…
"Hello?" she answered, quickly putting the caller on speaker and walking towards her husband.
"There's a small package by your front door," the caller said simply. "You're going to want to open it."
Daniel opened the door and found that there was, indeed, a package. His name was clearly labeled on it. He brought the package inside and shut the door again quickly. With shaky fingers he struggled to tear open the package.
"Who is this?" Stephanie asked, directing her attention back to the caller. "Where is our son?"
"All in good time, Mrs. Brinson," the caller replied, a smile in his voice. "Now, Daniel, please display the contents of your package."
Daniel looked up at his wife. He was worried, puzzled, tired, frightened- so many emotions were running through his head. The contents of the mystery package weren't exactly comforting, either. He hesitated.
"The sooner you do as I ask, the sooner Emerson returns to you," the voice said impatiently. Shakily, Daniel pulled a gun out of the small box.
"What do you want?" he asked loudly. "What do you want from us?"
"It's not what I want from you. It's what your son deserves from you. He deserves to know you love him."
"But he already knows we love him!" Stephanie cried. "Of course he knows. Please, just give him back, we'll do anything!"
"Not yet. But you have a chance to prove your love to him," the voice continued in an even tone. Stephanie mouthed the word "cellphone" to her husband. They needed to call for help. They didn't have time to be talking with whoever this was. They needed to save their son.
Daniel- quickly understanding- placed the gun on the floor and reached for his cell.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the voice cut in quickly. "You see, your son's life depends on your actions, here. If you love him, you'll do as I say. If not, you're not worthy to call yourselves his parents."
"Don't hurt him," Stephanie pleaded, sinking to the floor. "Please don't hurt him!"
"Like I said, that all depends on you."
"What do we have to do?" Daniel asked.
"The two of you need to walk upstairs to your bedroom," the voice instructed slowly. "I'll give you further instructions when I know you're there. Take the gun."
Shakily, Daniel picked up the gun again. He wanted nothing more than to cast it aside. It made him feel increasingly uneasy-like it was a symbol of his end. He stuffed it in the back of his jeans, and walked to his wife's side, helping her to stand, slowly. Stephanie clutched onto him, crying silently, but allowed him to lead her up the stairs.
Daniel glanced at Emerson's room as they walked past. It seemed untouched. There was no sign of a break in, the window had been locked… everything was in its perfect place, and that made him all the more unnerved. As the Brinson's entered their room, it was immediately apparent that things were out of place. The most obvious was the video camera on a tripod in the center of their room.
"Smile," the voice from the phone said. "That camera is on, you know."
"Enough games," Daniel said, shakily. "We just want to get this over with so we can have our son back. We shouldn't have to prove anything to you in the first place. "
"This isn't for me," the voice said again, sharply. "Emerson, why don't you say hello?"
"Hello," said a soft voice. Both Daniel and Stephanie instantly recognized it as their son's voice.
"Oh my God, Emerson? Baby? It's mommy. Are you okay, honey?" She asked, crying harder.
"I'm okay," Emerson replied. "But I'm scared…"
"You're going to be just fine, sweetheart. We're going to find you," Daniel said, trying to soothe his son.
"I'll give you directions to find your son, but you have a task to complete first," said the voice again.
"Just tell us where our son is, you bastard!" Stephanie cried.
"We'll do anything," Daniel said calmly into the phone. He had a sinking feeling that there wasn't really any way to get out of this situation. The only thing they could do was comply. And if it was to save their son, anything was worth it, right? "Tell us what you want."
"Parents are supposed to love their children more than anything in the world. More than life itself. If you want to know where your son is, prove it. Kill your wife. You can't cheat your way out of this, either. The camera allows me to see everything that happens- or doesn't happen- in that room."
"What?" Daniel asked, losing his composure. "Are you insane? I'm not going to kill my wife!"
"But Daniel, you said you'd do anything. You said you loved your son. Isn't this worth it? Isn't death worth it to know your son is safe?"
"I'm not going to kill my wife," Daniel said, trying to keep his calm resolve. He reached slowly into his back pocket for his cell. The room was dark- maybe the camera wouldn't pick up his movement if he was slow enough. He just had to stall the caller for a little while longer. He dialed 911. "I can't kill my wife."
"But you can call the police even after you've been told not to," the voice sighed. "They'll arrive too late." The line clicked and buzzed. The voice had hung up.
"Daniel, you should have killed me," Stephanie cried, clutching her husband. "It was for Emerson. I would have died for Emerson!" She was hysterical. Her cries stopped abruptly, however, as scratching could be heard. "The front door," she whispered. Hand in hand, she and Daniel raced down the stairs to their front door, where the scratching was becoming louder and louder. Through the small glass window panel on the door, Daniel and Stephanie could see a large hulking figure. The creature's eyes glistened. It saw them, too.
The glass of the front door shattered as the creature hurled itself into the house, growling.
It was a large, black dog.
(One Week Later)
"You've had your head buried in the papers for at least an hour," Dean said, sliding back into the booth across from his brother. "Please tell me you've got something."
Sam sighed and looked up at his elder brother. He was a little tired. He'd been scouring for something. Anything, really. He'd take another killer clown if it meant they had a job. There had been a lack of supernatural activity- or at least it seemed that way. "I'm not sure," he said slowly. There had been a couple articles that had caught his eye, but nothing was screaming at him. "The best lead we have is a murder down in Missouri," he slid the newspaper across the table for Dean to see.
"Couple found mauled in their home," Dean murmured, reading the headline softly aloud. As his eyes scanned the article briefly, he continued to read some of the words aloud. "Four year old child found at the scene, left unharmed… officials say it was a wild animal…" He looked back up at Sam and shrugged. "I'd say it's worth looking at. I'd rather look at this dead couple than most of the ugly broads in here, anyway." Sam scoffed at his brother's attempt at humor, but gave no argument.
"You sure you're okay rushing into Missouri?" Sam asked as he and Dean walked outside. Sure, they hadn't had a job in Missouri in a while, but that didn't exactly change the fact that Dean was a wanted murderer in the state. "Clarksville isn't too far from Saint Louis," he added, hoping that his warning would urge Dean to be somewhat cautious.
"Well, it's not exactly Saint Louis, though, is it, Sammy?" Dean asked with a smirk as he pulled open the Impala's door. "Besides, I'm sure the fine people of Clarksville will have far more important things on their minds. What do you think this thing is?"
"Honestly?" Sam asked, shutting the side door. "I'm not really sure. The newspaper was pretty vague as far as describing the condition of the bodies. We have a lot of asking around to do on this one."