Title: Love Kills
Full Summary: CaseFic. When a series of bizarre murders begin to occur in Connecticut, it's up to the Winchesters to track down the scorned spirit responsible.
A/N: This is the second part of a trilogy following Psycho Circus and then the third part will be worked on soon before this is finished, meanwhile enjoy a story set a few weeks after the events of A Very Supernatural Christmas.
DISCLAIMER: Insert witty remark about Supernatural not belonging to me here.
Preston, Connecticut
The sky was covered in the blanket that was the night, and on his way home was a young man by the name of Jerome Young, he was a 21 year old resident of the town and on his way back to an apartment he lived in that was just beneath a breakfast resturant, he was dressed in the right attire for this kind of time of year, which was a light tan jacket, his hat and jeans which were sagged down a bit, it was a normal night for him until he got the feeling that someone was watching him from the entrance to the park in which he took a short cut.
"Yo, who's there?" he asked, turning around and nobody there to respond before turning around and seeing a figure.
The figure had long black hair, dressed in a long dark brown overcoat, she seemed normal, as if she were any other woman...however the problem with her physically was that her skin was rather pale in color, her eyes the same and most striking of all...for some reason she wore a surgical mask.
"Hey, anyone tell you that you shouldn't be walkin' round this park at night, they say it's haunted." Jerome said, looking at the woman.
"I'm very well aware of the stories." She replied, her voice was rather raspy as if she suffered from some kind of strep throat. "May I ask you a question?" She asked.
"Sure, shoot." He replied.
"Am I pretty?" she asked, it was a simple yes or no question, wasn't it?
"Um, sure, why not?" he asked back.
"How about now?" She said, removing her mask, revealing something much more horrifying than usual, something that caused the young man to become wrapped in fear and disgust.
"JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" he shouted, attempting to run from the woman, however she reappeared behind him.
"You didn't answer my question." She said, her mask still gone.
"GOD NO! YOU'RE A DISGUSTING FUCKING BITCH!" He shouted, yet before he could get anything else out, he felt the feeling of a sharp instrument being planted into his neck, the instrument in question was large, it was similar to a pair of scissors but sharper and more lethal, the woman began to slowly cut into the young man's neck in a bloody, brutal fashion, her horrid face seeming unconcerned with the fact she was murdering a person her cutting into him finally killed her vicitm when it cut his spinal chord, however she wasn't finshed as she sliced through the other portions of his neck, his head falling off and dying of decapitation.
1 week later
A car drove into the sleepy town, a black 1967 Chevy Impala had arrived to Manchester, this hailed the arrival of Sam and Dean Winchester, two brothers who specialized in tracking down the kinds of things the woman had killed.
"So, Dean, remind me about this case again." Said youngest brother Sam.
"Yeah sure, according to the papers there's been a series of killings here in the last week where all the vicitms were decapitated or split right in half or down the middle." Replied eldest brother Dean.
"Alright then."
"And that makes it our kind of job because according to a police officer, he saw the man's head coming off all by itself." Dean added.
"Really?"
"Yup."
"Well, it's weird and gross, pretty much our kinda thing."
"When isn't our kind of thing weird and gross, Sam?"
"Usually never, so we're gonna talk to the cop first?"
"That's what I was hoping, maybe he'd be willing to reveal something to the press."
"Okay then."
With that, the boys headed off to the home of the officer who witnessed this event, his name was Evan Rutler, a man who worked on the force for a good 35 years and had never seen anything as bizarre as the decapitation he had been witness to the week before.
"This the place?" Sam asked as Sam pointed to a house that the car was pulling into the drive way of.
"Yup." Dean replied as he stopped the car.
"Y'know Dean, I can't help but feel as though I've seen a pattern of these kinds of killings before."
"Implying it's some kinda creature?"
"Yeah, there's stories of spirits seeking vengeance and killing people the way they died."
"Right, 'course...so we do the usual routine of salting and burning this one once we I.D. our ghost?" Dean asked, exiting the car.
"Basically." Sam replied, exiting the car as well.
The brothers walked up to the doorstep of the cop and knocked on the door, the door opened and revealed an older man in his late-50's with grayish hair and beard slowly growing, the man was wearing a blue robe, this was Officer Rutler.
"Can I help you boys?" The officer asked, his voice having a New England accent.
"Um, yes actually, my name is Tom Montero and this is my partner Martin Constable, we're reporters with the INS, an independent newspaper out of Chicago." Dean said, flashing a fake press badge.
"Ah, and what are you here for?" He asked, confused why "reporters" from Chicago would come to a town like Preston.
"Well, we heard about the recent deaths in town and what you saw...I mean a decapitation having happened on it's own." Sam said.
"Oh, I'm sorry but I'm not talking to reporters right now." The old man said attempting to close the door.
"Wait, sir, just a few minutes of your time, please?" Dean asked.
"You probably think I'm some nutjob, most likely."
"Actually no, we heard your story and we think there's something to your story and we don't think you're crazy." Sam insisted.
"You do, do you?" he asked, not sure what to think of the idea someone believed his story.
"No we don't and we do think there's something to this story." Dean said.
"Fine, this better be just a few minutes." The officer said, letting the brothers inside of his home.
"So, um, we can just take a seat anywhere?" Sam asked.
"In the living room, over there, also, can I get you two anything?" The officer asked, pointing over to where his living room was.
"No thanks." Sam said as he headed in, sitting down on a large tan couch.
"Same here." Dean said, sitting on the couch as well.
"Alright then..now where do you want me to start?" The officer asked, sitting in an old chair right across from the brothers.
"Well, what you saw on the night that you witnessed the death?" Dean asked.
"Alright then, I was in a patrol car, nothing big, what I was doing on that particular street was hoping to catch a man from Bridgeport who's suspected of being a drug dealer, now while waiting for this man I saw a local boy I've met before named Jerome, he was a good kid but goddamn was he stupid, had a good heart though and was making a nice life for himself, now what I witnessed was he was taking a short cut back to the home he lived in just on the other side of town really at this breakfast place, and well I heard him talking to someone who was apparently invisible." He said, thinking about it, his story was quite crazy, even for reporters.
"And what happened then?" Sam asked.
"Well. I heard him freak out about a face, now I didn't see anything but suddenly I saw this wound a-and blood coming from his neck, suddenly one side of his neck split apart and then the other...his head rolled off his shoulder, like it was sliced off by some kind of blade." He said, remembering the details of the murders exactly as they had happened.
"And you didn't get an exact I.D. on the killer?" Dean asked.
"No, I didn't even see the killer, it happened all on it's own based on what I saw."
"So..his head basically ripped itself from his neck on it's own?" Sam asked, attempting to sound skeptical.
"Yup, basically."
"Alright, well thanks for your time but we're gonna go now, feel free to contact us at Room 21 of The Standish Hotel, alright?" Dean asked.
"Sure, whatever you boys say." The officer said, watching the two leave the room.
The Hunters had heard most of what they needed to hear from the man, maybe he had seen something and maybe he was just having hard times being a cop and all, on the other hand maybe Sam and Dean were after something that was killing innocent people.
"So Dean, you buy his story?" Sam asked as they headed out the door.
"We have nothing better to do but buy his story since it's all we have to go on." Dean replied.
"That's true."
"So, do we know of any spirit that's invisible to everyone except just the victim?"
"I'm not exactly sure to be honest with you."
"Well, our best bet is usually nothing." Dean said as he got into the car.
Sam followed suit "So, you check out his home while I do what?" He asked.
"I dunno Sam, maybe look for decapitation-related deaths since this town began to exist."
"I'll see the best that I can do." Sam said as the boys left Evan Rutler's home.
Their hunt wasn't like the last one in a way, they knew what they were hunting was a type of Ghost, however the very problem was there are over 1000 types of Ghost that Hunters track down and this was among those 1000.
After a 13 minute drive from the Officer's home, the boys had arrived at the town's local library, this is where Dean dropped his little brother off so he could look into who the ghost was that they were tracking down, while Dean would head to the most recent victim's home. Entering through the diner the small apartment sat upon.
"Excuse me, um, can I speak to whomever owns the place upstairs?" Dean asked, heading towards the front counter.
"Um, that'd be my father, he's in the back office, I can get him if you want." Said a young blonde female, who appeared to be around 19 to 21 years of age.
"That'd actually be much appreciated." Dean said, watching the woman walk to the back office.
After a few minutes the woman returned, a man in his mid-30's coming up to the counter, the man was rather scrawny and bald with a pair of glasses "May I help you?" he asked walking towards Dean.
"Um, yes, my name is Detective Dwight Little and I'd like to speak to you about a tenant that lived in the apartment that you have upstairs." Dean said, showing him identification.
"Oh yes, um, of course but they already had police here this morning." The owner said.
"I'm just here to give it a onceover and I'll be on my way, just in case anything was missed."
"Ah, I see then go right ahead but first here's the key." The owner handed him the key to the apartment.
"Thanks." Dean said, walking up the stairs.
Unbeknownst to Dean as he walked upstairs he was being watched, by the very being that caused the deaths that lead him and Sam to the town. Her eyes focusing on the Hunter and looking down at the weapon she had used to kill Mr. Young, still covered in his blood.
Meanwhile
Sam was logged on to a computer at the Library, also at the same time look at verification county death records. There had been quite a few mysterious murders that mimic the way the last batch of folks had been killed, all the way back in 1983, and again in 1958 and having begun in 1933.
"Hey Dean, when you get this, call me back, I think we've established a pattern as to how this spirit kills." Sam said, leaving a message before getting back to work.
Back at the apartment
Dean searched through the entire apartment for a Hex Bag in case this was the work of a Witch and not a Ghost.
"Um, Detective Little, is there anything in particular you're looking for?" Said a female voice, it was the woman who worked in the diner.
"Actually no, again in case the guy who lived here before..." Dean trailed off, trying to look for what to say.
"Had enemies?" She asked.
"Actually, yes, how'd you know I was gonna say that?"
"Well, Jerome had a sorted background, when he moved in here he was involved with some rather shady characters."
"Shady?"
"One of his most frequent guests was his step-father who was arrested in Brooklyn on drug charges and was sent to prison about a year ago."
"Ah, I see."
"My name is Laurie by the way." She said, extending her hand.
"Nice to meet you Laurie, I guess I'm on my way out then." Dean said, handing her the key and leaving for the car, noticing there was a message left, calling back his brother.
"Hey Sam, what'd you dig up?"
"Nothing important just that these killings seem to happen once every 25 years."
"25 years?"
"Yup, sadly I can't find any deaths where someone lost their head in any town records."
"Well, if we're looking for a head do you know where Al Snow is?" Dean said starting the car and making his way to the Library.
"Funny." he said sarcastically "Anything new on the vic?"
"Well aside from the fact that Jerome's step daddy was charged and arrested in Brooklyn for drug charges...two things; jack and shit."
"Maybe we're not looking in the right place."
"When don't we miss something?" Dean said sighing "Look, I'm on my way so don't do anything too crazy, got it?" He smirked.
"I'll be on my best behavior."
"That's what I like to hear." Dean hung up his phone.
While driving towards the Library where Sam conducted research there was still this nagging feeling that something was wrong with this entire situation, that there was a puzzle and a case but they haven't put all the pieces together.
As Dean drove, the figure still stalked him, was he to be the next victim? no one could really say but all that could be said was that he was on the spirit's list.
Meanwhile
At the Officer's home, he was reliving the events he witnessed, being a cop he has seen quite a bit in his time but nothing as bizarre as a man's head coming off on it's own...or so that seemed to be the case as he poured whiskey in a glass.
"Maybe, maybe there's some rationalizing this." He said to himself, gulping down half the glass of liquor.
As he finished the alcohol slowly, enjoying how it removed the feeling of stress for a few seconds his kitchen suddenly became much colder than it was supposed to be, even for the time of year, along with the sounds of someone walking in his living room.
"Excuse me, is someone there? Mr. Montero? Mr. Constable?" he asked, thinking the "Reporters" had come back unexpected.
There was no respone, all that there was that could be seen though? his own breath, it was a sign that something had come for him, it was whatever was after Dean as well but had come for him before setting itself on the Winchester.
"I SAID WHO'S THERE!" He shouted, heading towards a drawer where he kept a gun and shooting at the thin air, wherever footsteps were heard and even at his own table.
Ater all the shots in his gun were fired he looked around, all there was to see now was debris from where he had shot, that didn't stop noises, it didn't stop anything except for frantic neighbors who called the local officers, he was taken into custody moments later.
Meanwhile
Back at the diner where Laurie worked for her father, she entered his office, concerned with the events that had transpired.
"Dad, can we talk?" She asked, closing the door behind her as she arrived in his office.
"Sure."
"You think that guy who came here earlier, think his story checks out?" She asked, sitting down in the chair facing his desk.
"No, it doesn't he got that fake name from the director of Halloween 4, he's gotta be what your mother and I were...before you were born obviously."
"A Hunter? Dad I always figured you mig-"
"That part of my life is over Laurie, this is why your mother and I separated, she wanted to keep this up and I just didn't want to keep going, a life of Hunting isn't something I want for you."
"Dad, it's gonna happen eventually, even when Mom left she said that there was no way out for those who entered the life."
"I'll die trying to make sure that happens, that you and me stay away from the life." He said, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him.
At the Police Station
Officer Rutler sat in a cell, it was a drunk tank. The cops who arrested him had believed he was intoxicated due to his story, to be fair it was far fetched to be shooting at footsteps in a house where you lived all alone.
"Y'know Evan, I've never seen a good cop go off the deep end like you." Said a younger officer.
"I told you, everything I saw and did was the absolute truth." He said, frustrated that no other person would believe his story...maybe they did though and they didn't want to be called a crack pot.
"We found bottle upon bottle of all kinds of booze, and god knows what you were drinking the night Jerome was killed, know I used to look up to you and now knowing you go ahead and get wasted on the job...makes me think you're a hypocrite and shit cop." The younger officer said, walking away from the cell.
Officer Evan sat there, he was one to drink but never one to do such a thing on the job. What he saw was without a shadow of a doubt real, maybe this whole thing was just one bad dream and he was gonna wake up any minute from now and it will all be over, Mr. Young would still be alive and the reporters wouldn't have shown up at his doorstep. No, that wasn't the case though, it was all real and this was the nightmarish fallout of a man of his stature.
And suddenly as they began in his house, he heard the footsteps again. They weren't slow and methodical, it seemed as if someone was walking to meet him, yet they had a limp, they were injured.
"Please, LEAVE ME ALONE WHOEVER YOU ARE!" He shouted "TAKE WHAT YOU WANT AND JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WANT!" He continued, begging and screaming for whatever was coming for him to just do what it wanted to do.
The figure materialized, she was the same woman who appeared to Jerome, long over coat, the surgical mask, the works. She walked over to the cell and stood there front and center, her pale eyes, so striking, so bizarre, so frightening.
"Wh-W-Who are you?" He asked, staying as far away as he could from her from the confines of the cell. "Did you kill that young man?" He asked, scared by the figure standing before him.
She stood there, not responding, simply tilting her head back and forth.
"ANSWER ME YOU BITCH!" He shouted, attempting to assert himself as someone who could threaten her.
"Sit." she said, her husky voice being the most distinguishing feature, pointing her finger at the small mattress in the cell.
The officer simply complied "NOW TALK!" he shouted.
The woman walked right through the cell bars, simply hovering over him. "Can you answer me a question?" She stated coldly.
"Fine, go ahead." He said, shaken by her feat.
"Am I pretty?" she said coldly, tilting her head to the left.
"What kind of question is that?"
"Am I pretty?" She said again, not paying attention.
"Yes sure fine, now will you leave me alone?"
"How about now?" She asked, brushing off his comment and removing her surgical mask.
"Wh-what happened to you? yo-you-you're a frigging monster! a horrid creature!" He said, in shock of what he had seen once she removed the mask.
The girl simply responded by grabbing him by the throat, he could feel the air being squeezed from his windpipe, he pissed this girl off and that's all he could figure from the way she had acted. Officer Rutler felt himself being pinned against the wall, watching the girl pull a scissor-like blade from her coat pocket, thrusting the blade into his side. He felt the pain of the weapon cutting across his side, cutting every organ, everything being cut, he began to cough up blood and in his mind the blood was the least problem, as he felt the blade cut across him again and this time slicing him in half.
Officer Evan Rutler, died instantly, the two pieces of his body dropped on the floor, organs and blood spilling across the floor of the drunk tank. The Ghost Girl put her mask back on and disappeared as her kill has been made and she began to seek others.
To Be Continued...
A/N: I know this might seem short but I'm trying, anyway, I was gonna put this up following the airing of the newest episode but I decided to put it off until after Thanksgiving weekend, but stay tuned.
