Author's Note: Well, I certainly can't guarantee updates like this everyday, but I was in a writing mood, so here! Thank you everyone for all the reviews, follows, and favourites. Here's the virtual pie I promised you. *Gives a slice.* (I changed my mind on the cookies. Pie is more fitting since this is a Supernatural fic ;)...) I hope you all enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, the show, or anything to do with Supernatural really. I probably don't even own the idea.
Warnings: Language is a little less mild than last chapter. Sorry. There are also about 1,000,000,000 grammatical errors, tense changes, and word-explosions, considering it was ass o'clock in the morning when I edited this.
Chapter Two - Feelings
Dean realised he'd have to go hunting sooner or later, so he wasn't surprised when Sam walked in one day holding up a newspaper.
"You guys, I've found a case!" said Sam. "Jeremy Parker, aged 34, died yesterday in Minnow, Indiana! The report says he literally jumped out of the truck he was driving, lay down on the highway, and let himself get run over by a car!"
"He what?" Dean had to stop himself from laughing. "He just lay down in the middle of the road?"
Sam shot him a look. "It's not funny, Dean. A man died."
"It's a little funny," Dean whispered under his breath.
"I heard that."
Dean stood up and went over to look at the newspaper. "You think it's a ghost?" he asked.
"I'm not sure. It could be the work of a witch, or anything else with mind-control. There are a pretty wide range of choices."
"Well, that's helpful," Dean sighed. "We should probably look into it a little further before we make any assumptions. I guess we should start driving to Minnow and ask around. It's pretty far from here, so we'd better hurry up."
"Alright," Sam nodded. "Let's say goodbye to Bobby and head out."
Minnow, Indiana was a small, rural town and Dean never liked small towns, their motels were always sketchy and the people all knew each other. They knew each other so well that it was suspicious. They were like a cult, and that was always a bad sign. And Minnow seemed no different. The first thing Dean noticed was how perfect it looked. There were flowers and trees on every street corner, all in perfect condition. Birds chirped and butterflies flew past the windows of the car. Dean hated it, absolutely hated it. Nothing could be that perfect without harbouring a secret.
"This town gives me the creeps. Can we just hurry up and get to the motel? Don't make me drive around sightseeing." Dean grumbled. He had expected Sam to make a comment about how beautiful it was and for him to lighten up, but all Sam did was cringe.
"I never thought I'd say this, but you're right. There is something seriously wrong with this place."
They pulled into the parking lot of the Honeybee Motel and headed to the front desk. A middle-aged man sat there, looking miserable. Dean didn't blame him, he'd probably be miserable too if he worked in a motel named Honeybee.
"Hi, we'd like to get a room here please? Two seperate beds would be nice," Dean asked.
The man looked up at him drearily. He seriously looked like he was about to jump straight off a cliff. "That'll be $22.50 thanks."
God, his voice sounded even worse. It was so monotonous, Dean wondered for a split second if the man was a robot. Suddenly, a cheery looking woman walked out from a door behind the counter. "Oh, don't mind my husband! He's always like this." She waved them off. "Here's your key. You guys are in room 27. Enjoy your stay!"
Dean and Sam shot each other suspicious glances and stepped into the elevator. "Why was she so happy and her husband so miserable? That's a little odd, isn't it?" Sam looked puzzled.
"Unhappy marriage?" Dean suggested. Somehow it didn't feel like that was the real reason. Sam just shrugged.
"Maybe."
Sam browsed through newspapers and Internet articles for any similar deaths. So far, he had found at least six cases of people jumping into the pathways of cars. There were more cases every search, and it was getting far too suspicious to be a coincidence.
"Dean, I think we've got a serious problem here. I keep finding more cases of people jumping in front of cars. It's bordering disturbing at this point."
Dean walked out of the bathroom covered in make up. His stare was so menacing that Sam figured he'd be dead if he dared make a comment.
"So, what do you think it is?" Dean wiped his face with a towel.
Sam sighed and shook his head. "I think it's another witch. All of the victims either jumped out of their car while it was still moving or parked it on the side of the road first. Cars are the perfect place for a hex bag."
"Alright. Seems reasonable. So, anything linking the victims?"
"So far, the only thing I can see is that they're all residents of Minnow." Sam handed Dean the laptop. "Why don't you take a look and see what you can find?"
Dean shifted through the many articles and obituaries. At first, Dean was stumped. There was absolutely nothing tying the victims together at all. Then it hit him. All of them - every single victim - were men. "I think we have a sexist on our hands," Dean chuckled.
"This is no time to be joking, Dean." Sam put on his best bitchface.
"I'm not joking. The only thing linking these victims together is the fact that they have two balls dangling between their legs."
Sam held his face in his hands. "If that's the only thing we've got, we're not going to have much luck finding the witch."
"I'm right though. There have been men dying mysteriously like this for a few years!" Dean snapped.
"A few years? So, any major events happen around that time? Did someone important's husband cheat on them or something?"
"Uhh, nothing much. Nobody important got cheated on, nobody died, no creepy houses were knocked down. In fact, the only important thing to happen that year was the current mayor's election into office," said Dean. He was thoroughly confused.
"That's it!" Sam practically yelled. "That's it! The mayor is a woman, right?" Dean nodded. "It would explain why everything around here is so pretty and girly! So, the mayor hates men, got rid of everything manly in the town, and then decided to take it one step further!"
"Woah, woah. Let's not go jumping to conclusions. Maybe we should, you know, ask the mayor a few questions first?"
"Fair enough," Sam shrugged, "but you should go alone. You'll attract less suspicion because you're a woman."
Dean flashes him an angry look.
The mayor's house is the most amazing and cliché representation of the white-picket fence apple pie life in existence. The house is beautifully taken care of, the garden is in godly condition, flowers are everywhere, and cherry blossom trees surround the house in a ring. Dean suddenly has the urge to bash his head in on a wall. This is sickeningly perfect. Nervously, Dean walks up the stairs and knocks on the front door. He does not want to talk to this woman, let alone have to pretend to be interviewing her about her position as mayor. Dean thanks God and his posse of angel dicks that nobody appears to be home. Carefully, Dean picks the lock and enters the house. The inside isn't any less nauseating. The abundance of flowers outside can't even match how many she has in pots inside, the entire house smells like roses, and she's even painted her walls in bubblegum pink for Christ's sake. Dean shakes his head in disapproval and heads upstairs.
Her room follows the same sickening colour-scheme and doesn't seem very suspicious, but Dean has a feeling that something is seriously wrong. Cautiously, he opens the closet doors and is met with a horrifying sight. The shelves are lined with spell-books and boxes full of ingredients. Sam was right after all. But before Dean has a chance to react, something hard smashes against the back of his head and everything goes black.
Dean opens his eyes and groans; the entire world is spinning. "Where the hell am I?" he manages to choke out.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not going to kill you. I only kill men. I simply want to know what you're doing snooping around my property."
Dean whips his head around to see a woman standing behind him. Oh, it's the witch mayor. "I only wanted to confirm what you've been doing," Dean says icily. "I guess I was right."
The woman grins. "Oh, I guess you've found out about my little plan. I'll have to kill you then, but not before I find out who you are. I think I left my knives in the kitchen though, so I'll have to leave you for a moment. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone!" she says, her voice so sugar-coated, Dean figures he'll probably die from it alone before he even so much looks at a knife. The mayor is already downstairs before Dean can make any snide remarks, however.
Dean glances around. He's probably been moved to her attic from the looks of it. With a small "yes" of triumph, Dean notices his cellphone on the other side of the room. So, I'm not completely cut off from civilisation. Dean thinks. Damn, if only he could get to it, though. It's too bad he's tied up to a freaking chair, which he then kicks in frustration. At that, he hears the soft clink of something hitting the floor. Dean looks down and realises he's just kicked a nail out of the very chair he's sitting on - a nail sharp enough to cut the ropes tying him. Dean can't help but smirk. "Karma's a bitch."
Dean has already been out of the chair for ages by the time the witch heads back up the stairs. As soon as she opens the door, the Demon Knife is already in her chest and she collapses onto the ground. "That was easy." Dean grabs his phone from across the floor, walks out of the attic to lean on the wall just before the stairs, and calls Sam.
"Dean! Is everything alright?" comes Sam's nervous voice from the other end of the line.
"Yeah, everything is fine. The bitch caught be by surprise and had me tied up in her basement, but I managed to escape," Dean laughs. "It was a piece of cake."
"Alright, I guess that's another case solved. Head back to the motel and we can get out of this hell hole."
"Okay. See you soon, Sammy." Dean hangs up the phone.
Just then he feels a hand grab his shoulder. How the hell could she have stumbled out of the attic and through the hallway? Dean whips around to finish the job, but it's too late. The witch shoves him backwards in one final effort before she falls onto the floor. Dean tries desperately to grab onto something - anything - but finds nothing but thin air. He falls helplessly backwards and sighs. Dean doesn't know why, but his deepest regret is that he didn't even get a chance to say a proper goodbye to Castiel. And, as if in response to Dean's wish, there's a flash of light and Dean's at the top of the staircase again in someone's arms. Dean looks up in shock only to be met with a pair of ocean blue eyes. "C-Cas?" he stutters.
"You really should be more careful, Dean."
And suddenly Dean realises that he's blushing. It's just the adrenaline. Dean tells himself with determination, ignoring the fact that he was perfectly calm before Cas showed up. Luckily, before he has time to second-guess himself any further, the witch raises her head and desperately attempts to say something.
"Who-" blood drips from her mouth, effectively silencing her. "Who are you?" she gasps again.
Dean stands tall and looks at the crumpled heap below him. "Me? I'm Dean Winchester..." Dean stops himself, "or should I say, Deanna Winchester."
Cas can't help but laugh a bit at how silly that sounds. "Maybe we should call you that from now on."
"Maybe you should, Cas," Deanna retorts as she tries to hide the smile that's spreading on her face, "maybe you should."
