Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I do not own Sam and Dean Winchester. Supernatural was created by Eric Kripke.
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Well, the grandmother lived out in the forest, half an hour from the village, and as soon as Little Red Cap entered the forest, she encountered the wolf. However, Little Red Cap did not know what a wicked sort of an animal he was and was not afraid of him. ... The wolf thought to himself, This tender young thing is a juicy morsel.
-from "Little Red Cap" by the Brothers Grimm
Jamie was tired. Waitressing was hard work, and, after a long night on her feet, she felt ready to fall asleep where she stood. Shaking her head to clear it, Jamie said goodnight to her manager and left the diner, breathing in the cool night air. As she walked along the darkened streets of Chicago, she thought to herself that she really ought to ask Joe for an earlier shift. She always felt uncomfortable walking home alone this late at night. At least the diner was only a few blocks away from her apartment, and the job did pay fairly well. Jamie's lips turned down in a small frown. She was trying to work her way through college, and money always seemed to be an issue. Still, she only had one more semester, and then her waitressing job would be a thing of the past.
Pausing for a red light (though she didn't really know why she bothered—the streets were empty), Jamie thought that if she hurried, she could get at least a few hours of sleep before having to get up for class in the morning. She noticed that the light had changed, so she crossed the street, listening to the sound of her footsteps as they echoed on the pavement.
She had progressed perhaps an additional fifteen feet down the poorly lit sidewalk when she froze. Had she just heard another set of footsteps in addition to hers? Reaching into her purse and wrapping her fingers around the bottle of pepper spray she kept there, Jamie began walking again and increased her pace. She turned her head for a look at the street behind her. Nothing. Not even a stray cat. Laughing softly in relief at her own paranoia, Jamie turned her attention back to where she was going—and jerked to a halt as she nearly ran into the two large figures looming in front of her.
"Hey, baby," one of the men said with a leer.
"Leave me alone," Jamie stated forcefully as she glanced around for a possible escape route.
"Don't you wanna play?" the other questioned menacingly as he tried to grab her arm. Jamie tensed, preparing to spray the threatening man in the face and run. Suddenly, another figure stepped in between Jamie and her attackers.
"I don't think the lady is interested," the third man retorted. He glanced over his shoulder at Jamie. "Are you all right?" he asked softly. Jamie nodded, her eyes wide.
From her position behind her rescuer, Jamie could see the men start to open their mouths in protest. However, something about the look the mysterious man gave them must have made them rethink whatever it was they were about to say, because after exchanging a glance between themselves, the two men were soon running in the opposite direction.
Jamie slowly let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. "Thanks," she said, looking up at her savior.
He offered her a small smile. "It's not safe for a lovely lady such as yourself to be walking alone at night in the city. Allow me to walk you home?"
"Sure," Jamie replied. What could it hurt? After all, he'd already saved her from her would-be attackers; how dangerous could he be?
Jamie took the arm he offered her, and the two of them walked toward her apartment together.
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The sun was barely visible through the clouds as Billy hurried to school the next morning. He was going to be late. He just knew it. And he couldn't be late again. Mrs. Smith had explained it all very clearly to him earlier that week. One more tardy, and he would be spending his summer vacation at the junior high, listening to her drone on and on about British literature – a fate worse than death. It was imperative that he make it to school on time.
Slipping down an alleyway which he had used as a shortcut before, Billy thought about how wonderful his life would be after he finished Mrs. Smith's awful class. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost tripped over a shoe someone had inconveniently left lying right in the middle of his path. Scowling, Billy glared at the offending shoe and reached down to toss it out of the way. He frowned as he realized that the shoe was actually still being worn by someone.
Taking a closer look, Billy gasped as his gaze fell on a red-haired woman, a red ribbon tied tightly around her neck and her mouth frozen in a silent scream. Her unseeing blue eyes gazed at him entreatingly. Eyes wide, Billy ran to call 911 and report the dead waitress. Mrs. Smith's class would just have to wait.
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The parking lot of the only bar in Paxton, Illinois wasn't particularly crowded. It was a Thursday afternoon, and the people of the small town generally limited the majority of their drinking to the weekends. Inside, Sam and Dean Winchester sat at a battered table that looked as if it had seen better days. As Sam perused the Chicago Sun-Times and sipped his Shiner Bock, his brother eyed their waitress.
"Think she's single?" Dean asked; he caught the waitress's attention and gave her one of his signature grins.
Sam rolled his eyes and returned to reading the paper.
"Find anything good in there?"
"Not unless you include an old lady who thinks her dead poodle's been speaking to her from 'beyond the grave,'" Sam replied.
Dean gave him an incredulous look. "Dude, that's just crazy."
"Tell me about it. We haven't come across anything remotely suspicious in days."
"Maybe it just means we're due for a break," Dean said, turning in his chair slightly to wink at the waitress.
Sam shook his head in amusement, but then his face sobered. "I don't know, Dean. Don't you think it seems kind of odd?"
"I think…" Dean's words trailed off as his attention was captured by a news report blaring from one of the many televisions positioned around the bar:
"The body of Chicago waitress Jamie Price was found early Wednesday morning in the alleyway behind her apartment complex. She was apparently strangled using a red ribbon. Jamie Price's murder is strikingly similar to the death of another woman who was killed two weeks ago. Interestingly, the murders parallel the method used by a serial killer active in the Chicago area twenty years ago. The so-called Red Ribbon Strangler was never apprehended…"
"Huh. Sound familiar?" Dean asked his brother.
"Not really. Should it?"
"I'm not sure." Dean pulled their father's old journal out of his jacket pocket and began to flip through it, pausing every now and then to examine some pages more closely than others.
"Here," he said, handing the journal to Sam and pointing out several articles pasted onto its pages.
Sam frowned at the newspaper clippings. "Dad saved the articles about the Red Ribbon Strangler?"
Dean nodded. "Guess this guy's more than just your run-of-the-mill serial killer."
"Apparently so. Well, it looks like we're going to Chicago."
Both men got up from the table and walked toward the door. Dean cast one last glance back at the pretty waitress.
"So much for my vacation."