A/N: This is me attempting to write my first fan fic. I'm looking for constructive criticism on how to better it. I'll post the first two chapters now and based on the feedback I get I'll post the others in a few weeks. Welp, here goes. I came…I saw… I own nothing of this world.
It was raining, as Sam and Dean drove along the deserted highway; all rather typical for a run of the mill job. Except it wasn't. The idea that less than usual monsters were appearing across the country, coincidentally after the Darkness had been unleashed, was….questionable at best.
"So…what do we got?" said Dean when he broke the comfortable silence. It was odd to have a comfortable silence so soon after a climactic event between them. But somehow this silence felt understanding.
"We have two murders. Both drowned…nowhere near water." Sam immediately stated.
"Well if that's not weird I don't know what is. Are we sure it's not a ghost ship type deal, with the victims being linked?" Dean theorized.
"No, they have no relation. And trust me I've checked even the details we normally ignore. Nothing. It's either, entirely unrelated or nothing at all." Sam stated resolutely as he glanced up and blinked through the haze of rain.
The University of St Louis seemed to loom, like a cathedral in the rain and the students acting as gargoyles, guarding the space under awnings and bus stops. Armed with crime scene photos and a quick search on the internet, they'd found Professor Daldry. Despite skepticism from Dean and a remark about his "distrust of nerds" they hoped the professor would know something about the strange, faint markings left on the victim's ribcage.
"Bring back any memories of the good ol' days Sammy?" Dean jibed as they pulled into a spot in front of the Graduate Studies building.
"Considering I never made it past my Bachelors degree, no. I'm not sure I oozed as much desperation and misery as that kid." Dean swung around as he shut the door with a creak to see a lanky, withdrawn boy staring despondently at the cement.
"Well he looks like he might spontaneously combust. Maybe he's been to Hell, he may be more like you than you think." Dean joked pushing his younger brother's shoulder.
Sam chuckled forgivingly and said, "Not funny, Dean." The pair made their way up the claustrophobic staircase to the floor where professor's offices were kept. Dean sighed as if to say "here goes nothing", shot Sam a pointed glance and firmly rapped on the door they had arrived at.
A curt voice answered: "Come in." At the desk, sat an older man whose face was set in an unsympathetic grimace. "Agents Fogerty and Cook, I presume?" Sam and Dean flashed their badges in response. He gestured for them to sit at the chairs facing the desk.
"We're here to ask you a couple of questions about some unusual elements in our ongoing investigation." Sam eased. Dean, ever the bully, hastily pulled some crime scene photos from a folder he held tucked under his arm. "We believe that this killer is mimicking some sort of ritual. And those symbols, almost burned into the skin there, are Celtic." Sam internally rolled his eyes at his brother's blunt demeanor and said, "We hoped, that you'd be able to tell us what they mean and what they were used for. Maybe they held a supernatural quality that could have donated its power to the killing?" He added hopefully.
The professor's eyes widened at this. "You believe these markings had a hand in this man's death?" he asked skeptically. The condescending and cautious tone he used made Dean angry and Sam uneasy.
"I'm sorry gentlemen, I simply do not have the time to search high and low for the meaning of these symbols so you can catch a serial murdering monster. These creatures were ancient people's way of explaining natural phenomenon without the knowledge we have today. I will not sit here and entertain the belief in them."
Sam made to move forward, extending a hand to implore the professor as he said "But, sir, that's not what we—", But he was cut short by the professor extending his own hand resolutely and stating, "I think its best you leave."
Dean, not in the mood to coddle temper tantrums immediately got up held the door for himself and Sam and shut it unceremoniously.
"Well, that guy was a douche." He blurted.
"Yeah tell me about it. And now we're back to square one. We might as well ask around to find someone else who ca—"Sam's sentence was cut off by a small but resolute voice coming from behind them. The brothers turned to face the door of the office across the hall and saw a petite woman standing with her arms crossed over her chest.
"I can try to translate whatever you need." The woman regarded them with a rather amused look on her face. Her unruly, dark hair danced on top of her shoulders and her brown eyes held the warmth and tenacity of honey around edges of the iris. She extended an olive hand and simply said, "I'm Kat."
Dean stared at the small woman quizzically. She looked like she could be young enough to be in high school but her authoritative air struck him. As a reflex, he advanced a couple of steps and quipped, "And you're a student…or…?" Before his abandoned statement had settled in the air Kat raised an eyebrow, straightened up to her full height and walked purposefully up to Dean staring into his overlarge green eyes.
"PhD student and adjunct professor. So I am qualified if that's what your asking. Please step into my office." With painful deliberation she stepped slowly to the side and extended her arm to invite the massive men into her cramped office.
Sam and Dean stared at the most disarray that they'd seen since Frank Devereux. Rather than two chairs two separate piles of books sat adjacent to the desk. The desk itself was scattered with rolled up maps, graded papers and a small laptop. The walls were bare, other than even more books creeping up them in small towers like vines on brick. They sat, rather uncomfortably, on the books slightly hunched over. Kat tried to suppress a grin at the sight of the large men looking awkward leaning to one side elbows to knee, in an attempt to fit into the room. "So, are you always this condescending? Maybe I should take pity on Professor Daldry for kicking you out?" She said flashing a grin and taking a seat behind her desk.
Dean's charm returned momentarily, "Well if you thought that, I might have to charge you with obstruction." He joked. Kat opened her eyes mockingly wide and her mouth wordlessly formed an o, "Duly noted." She spoke with that finality again. Dean was tired of the pattern of proving himself the day was taking on. He didn't respond but looked at Sam. Picking up on his cue, Sam offered up the folder, which she eyed with an adorable eagerness.
"We need to know what these symbols mean."
After an hour of work, Katherine was feeling very satisfied with herself. She'd managed to ascertain that the burn mark—for lack of a better explanation—was depicting a Kelpie. Despite her satisfaction she couldn't shake the odd sensation that there was something she was missing. She didn't question the validity of Sam and Dean's inquiries. But that realization in and of itself was troubling to her.
"Kelpie's were shapeshifters. A horse, more specifically which could transform into a human and lure travelers to their deaths. Obviously by drowning." She had told them. They shared a looking that was both knowing and secret.
"So this marking describes the way it kills?" The taller one had asked. Agent Cook was his name? Kat had nodded turning back to her computer to pull up more files.
"What if a person wanted to kill it, the Kelpie? What would they do?" Kat raised an eyebrow but continued clicking.
"There's reference to silver bullets. However Scots seemed to believe that the bullet worked only if it were in its human form. To get it that way you had to 'control it'. Like, take its bridle. Literally grab the reigns."
The memory faded as she pushed the crease between her brows as far into her subconscious as she could, continuing her lectures for the day.
Sam and Dean spent the rest of the day ironing out the details of the case. The creature the professor Kat had described. They still had no idea how to control its bridle" especially since it was probably in human form. And there were also no bodies of water in the metropolitan area. It was nearing midnight when Sam finally closed his laptop.
"I just can't wrap my head around the bridle thing." Sam said, exasperatedly. "This is something new man. There's nothing like it in Dad's journal. The last time we dealt with an army of long dead monsters, was Eve." Sam listed more for his own benefit, in an attempt to gtethe fatcs straight in his head.
"Well maybe we gotta start thinking outside the box. And maybe this is the same thing. Maybe all the monsters are controlled by the same person. You don't know that Rowena didn't have more up her sleeve. Do you really think she was in it only to ice Crowley?" counseled Dean as he stood up from the bed.
"You're right." Sam conceded.
"Always am." Dean joked. "But, we're definitely not going to get anywhere with Rowena tonight. So, I am finding a bar." With that Dean grabbed the keys to the Impala and left to cope the only way he knew how. Leaving Sam to cloud the shabby motel room with his thoughts.
The bar was crowded, full of students, doing things they'd probably regret tomorrow. Thinking about their simplicity made Dean smile nostalgically. He didn't know what it was but Rowena had a reason for removing the Mark of Cain from his arm. He couldn't blame Sam for trying to save him, but he was tired. Not tired in the physical sense but a mental exhaustion. He would never tire of saving lives, just the repetitiveness of evil. It would never stop. And he was running out of reasons that made life worth living.
He sat down at the corner of the bar, giving him the best vantage point. Old habits die hard, he thought to himself.
A familiar voice pulled Dean from his reverie. "What can I get you Agent?" asked Kat. Dean smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"So you're a bartender now?" he challenged.
"I'm a jack of all trades." She shrugged.
"Whiskey. Neat." Dean ordered as he motioned halfheartedly with his hands. She reached for the lowball glass reflexively, nimbly handling the glass and bottle. She swiftly placed it in front of him.
"Normally I would ask if you had a rough day…but something tells me you and whiskey are just good friends." She sighed as she poured herself a glass of the same. Dean appreciated her honesty. Her frank statement almost made it easier to see her. Her skin was like coffee with a hefty portion of cream; but the vermillion glass lampshades of the bar gave her warmth the fluorescent lights at the university stole. It was then Dean realized how pretty she was. She raised the glass she held in her small hands to Dean and they drank, finding solace in each other's presence.
When they finished he grumbled, "You got that right." She chuckled and poured another.
"Did you make any progress with finding our mystery killer? You know if he wasn't using folklore to commit elaborate murders, I'd have to commend him for being so well read." She said sarcastically.
"You have to respect his ambition." Dean retorted, raising his glass in a mock toast. A hand waving at the other end of the bar caught Kat's attention and she gave Dean a smile and went back to work.
He sat there for another two hours as the bar slowly emptied. Kat came over to refill his drink and they joked about mundane things, which was a nice alleviation of stress.
Dean heard the sound of last call and saw the remaining students start to pick up their tabs. Dean laid two twenties on the bar and grabbed his jacket. Debating whether or not he should be responsible and just go home. It was almost laughable that he was even debating it at all, knowing full well what his decision would be. He turned to see Kat at his end of the bar eyeing him.
She grabbed the twenties off the counter and slid them slowly into her pocket never deviating her eyes from his.
"So…you wanna be an upstanding citizen and walk me home?" She flirted tactfully.
Dean grinned charismatically and crooned, "You know…I think I do."
As soon as they reached the door of her apartment they skillfully locked their lips and slid through the door without seeing. Kat deftly kicked off her shoes as she removed Dean's jacket. It was something easy, which was a welcome change for her. It was something she knew she wouldn't have to worry about tomorrow and she liked him for that. The street light spilled through the window and cast shadows over the sheets. They finished just before sun rise and both Kat, and Dean fell into a light sleep. Only to be slowly awoken as it got brighter.
Kat woke first, stretched and gently sat up so she didn't wake him. She was a little embarrassed that all she had in her kitchen was coffee but then she shoved away the sensation because she realized he didn't seem the type to care. She looked at him for a moment as she pulled on pajama pants and a Led Zeppelin tee shirt haphazardly thrown on her floor. She noticed a tattoo the size of a golf ball rising and falling as he breathed. 'Hot' she thought to herself and she cracked a grin.
The smell of coffee and the light appealed to Dean's senses as he forced his eyes open. Kat was not next to him so he dressed in silence musing on the night before. The apartment was not big, in fact it just consisted of a bedroom and a small kitchenette down a tiny hall. He didn't take much notice of the surroundings because he honestly didn't care to.
"Hey." Kat casually greeted as he walked through the door and sat down at the collection of mismatched table and chairs.
"Hey. He replied." She handed him a mug of coffee and sat down across from him. "Led Zeppelin?" he praised, motioning to her t-shirt.
"Part of my rebellious phase." She shrugged and smirked at him.
Dean nodded knowingly, "Well it's a good choice for a rebel." He sipped his coffee and saw Kat's face over the top of the mug. She looked like she was torn between saying something and not. Before Dean could ask however, she spoke.
"So you know I was thinking…you said the bodies were found near storm grates right?" She asked tentatively.
Dean knew Kat was obviously intelligent and leaned in with interest, murmuring "Mhmm."
"What if he's thinking outside the box? There aren't any rivers or natural flowing water so maybe he's using the next best thing. It was raining really hard yesterday what if he's using the storm drains as a base of operations in order to be close to large amounts of water?" Kat felt a little ridiculous entertaining the idea that this man took some sort of benefit or power from water but said it nonetheless.
Dean looked perplexed for a moment, then completely understood her logic. "That actually makes perfect sense." He breathed. He immediately whipped out his phone. "I'm gonna call my partner so he can get a head start on that theory." Dean explained as he stood to call Sam. "I'll probably have to go and meet him." He added, unsure of what Kat wanted from the morning after.
She smiled deviously and said, "Good, I was beginning to think you were going to stick around."
Dean shot her a daring look, phone pressed to his ear, mouthed 'ha-ha' and Sam's deep voice crackled at the other end of the phone.
"Dude where are you?" Sam demanded. Dean could tell he'd been up just as late as he had, except he hadn't had nearly as much fun.
"Hot professor, is also hot bartender." Dean explained simply.
"Oh." Sam breathed in understanding
"But that's not important, I'm at her place now and she had a really good idea about the 'Kelpie'." Dean said the word carefully because of his unfamiliarity with it. "I'm gonna grab my stuff and head back to you."
"Awesome." Sam muttered as they both hung up.
Dean turned around and walked back into the kitchen. He stopped, and surveyed the room skeptically.
"Kat?" He called. He bent down and picked up her coffee mug from the floor. In the center of its splattered contents Dean saw an imprint mirroring the one that had been stamped into the first victim. And it was then he knew that she was gone.