27 Hours earlier
The phone rang on the nightstand next to the tacky motel bed and a hand shot out from under the paisley covers and groped around blindly. Fingers wrapped around the rectangular object and flipped it open before retreating back under the covers. A very croaky, "hello?" was issued into the receiver.
"Dean, it's Bobby. I think I cracked it." Dean pushed back the covers and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. Then he glanced over at the cheap motel clock, groaning.
"It's four am, Bobby, what are you talking about?"
"The murders, Dean. The ones that have been getting national news since last year? The ones where nothing is left of the victim but a smear on the wall?"
Dean sat up now, his attention on Bobby. They had always suspected a demon was behind it, because no human had that kind of power. It was killing in a seemingly random pattern. But if Bobby had figured out something….
"I've figured out how it chooses it's victims." Dean leaned across the small gap between the beds and shook Sam awake. They'd let this demon roam free long enough.
Sam pushed Dean's hand away and rolled over, but Dean persisted.
"Hang on Bobby, gotta wake up sleeping beauty." Dean got up and jumped on top of his brother, earning him a loud groan as Sam pushed him off.
"C'mon Dean, knock it off."
"Rise and shine, Sammy. We got us a job."
Sam groaned again, "Dean, we just got off a job." He glanced over at the clock and also groaned at the time. They had just gotten in two hours ago.
"It's about that demon who's been using people as paint." That got Sam's attention. Dean put the phone on speaker as Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Dean held the phone out between them.
"Alright Bobby, tell us whatcha got."
"They're all related."
"Uh…Bobby, don't you think someone would have realized that by now?" Sam asked confusedly.
"Sam, I'm not talkin' about first and second cousins here. I'm talkin' about being related to a man who died over 600 years ago. There's hundreds of them. Many people don't know their families outside of their grandparents and great grandparents. Nobody's thought to look back that far."
"So this demon's chopping limbs off the family tree. Got any theories as to why?" Dean mused.
"Still workin' on it, though Ruby might be able to give some insight."
"Uh….huh. Well Bobby you called us. I take it you got someplace for us to go."
"Yeah I'll email you a picture of the next person if I'm following this all right. You find her, you'll find her family. I only know what school she's going to."
"Any particular reason you can't give us an address?" Dean put the phone down on the nightstand and got up, slipping on his jeans, packing what they had in the room as he continued to listen to Bobby.
"She likes to keep a low profile. It's not my place to go into why but once you find her just tell her I sent you. She'll understand." Dean stopped at that and glanced over at Sam. They both knew what that meant. Not many people knew Bobby outside of the hunting world. He was a well of information that most hunters called on when they had encountered things they had no idea how to handle. So the fact that it had taken Bobby this long to figure out how this demon was picking it's targets was frustrating.
"So she's a hunter?" Sam inquired.
"Part time. Her sister got tired of her moving around constantly and dragged her back home. She takes cases as she sees them in her area or I'll call her from time to time. She's got a new number now though so I can't reach her. How fast can you get to Colorado Springs?"
Now
Dean dug around the trunk of the Impala, sifting through numerous identities, of FBI, CIA, Homeland Security, Wildlife Fish and Game.
"So how're we gonna do this, Sammy? Fed's? Local police? Homeland Security?" He paused in his search to look at his brother. Sam just shook his head as he leaned against the side of the trunk.
"Dean, did you ever think that if we go in there flashing badges, she might get spooked and run? Hunters don't exactly get along with law enforcement." Dean closed the trunk to the Impala a little hard and rested his hands on it as he looked at Sam.
"Well then what do you suggest college boy? We're on a college campus, these are your people. You obviously know how to handle them better than I do." Sam rolled his eyes in response to Dean's sarcasm and pushed away from the car. He started walking toward the main building on campus from the parking lot. Dean jogged up beside him and put his hands in his pockets, retrieving the picture they'd printed out from Bobby's email. They'd talked to Bobby a little more on their drive, trying to theorize why this demon was killing these people. Not that Dean much cared. A demon's a demon, and they all should die. They did figure out it was being methodical, going from state to state, like it had a grid laid out and was checking each square. Colorado Springs seemed like a likely next stop for it. It had made stops in St. John's and Flagstaff before skipping over to Los Alamos right outside of Albuquerque. On the road they heard about a family found in Walsenburg and Bobby told them to step on it.
Bobby talked about this girl almost the same way he talked about Sam and Dean. There was worry in his voice but they held onto the fact that there hadn't been any reported murders in Colorado Springs. Dean looked at the last picture Bobby had of her. It was a graduation photo. She obviously cared enough about Bobby to send him photos because this one was scanned, not copy and pasted from somewhere. He kept wondering just how they were going to find her.
"I got it," Sam said, drawing Dean out of his reverie. "We scout the campus today to see if we see her. If not, we'll do it your way tomorrow."
"Fine." It wasn't a bad plan, but Dean didn't want to admit that to Sam. He passed the photo over to his brother to look over and scanned the parking structure. Low and behold there she was. They were never this lucky. He thought he would try the old lost tourist trick to get her attention. It usually worked on any female he wanted to get information from them with charm. She looked up and saw him and suddenly looked very perturbed, almost scared.
"Excuse me," Dean called out to her, making Sam look up as well. To their surprise, she turned to run. She got a couple of steps before crashing to her knees, holding her head. Something was wrong. Sam looked over at Dean before they both ran over to her. The pained expression on her face was all too familiar to them.
"Bobby didn't tell us she was a psychic." Sam looked down at Cassandra, unable to do much until the vision passed. It was the first time he'd seen it from the outside. No wonder Dean always had that worried look when he came out of a vision. She jolted forward, her hands catching the ground, stopping her from going farther.
"Charlie," her voice came out in a breathy gasp. She took a few deep breaths before noticing Sam and Dean crouched beside her. She took one look at Dean, put all her weight on her hands and kicked him square in the chest before bolting. Dean got the wind knocked out of him and Sam got up and chased her down.
"Wait! Cassandra! Bobby sent us! Bobby….sent us." Sam saw her go to a beat up old Ford pickup with fading and peeling red paint. The door was thrown open and as Sam got closer, he heard the distinctive slide of a magazine into a gun. She popped out from behind the car next to her and leveled a gun at him.
"Whoa! Bobby sent us to help!" Same threw up his hands and Dean came plodding over, rubbing his chest.
"I don't have time for bullshit, now get lost." She was backing into the driver's side seat and ready to hop in, keys in her hand.
"Bobby….ow…sent us about the demon who's been killing people all along the country."
She lowered her gun a little. "The one that makes Jackson Pollock look like an amateur?"
"Who?" Dean gave her a very confused look.
"A painter Dean, and yeah. Bobby says your family is next."
"I know." With that she hopped into her truck and started the engine. Sam and Dean bolted over to the Impala and turned the engine over just in time to hear her peel out.
"Must be in a hurry." Dean said as he threw the car into reverse and stepped on the gas. He climbed on the steering wheel, turning the car towards the exit and shifted it into drive to chase after the beat up Ford pickup. It seemed like he hit every red light on the face of the Earth and the boys could see Cassandra pounding on the steering wheel in frustration. More than once they had to blatantly run a red light just to keep up with her. Sam pondered over her rather hostile attitude, wondering why she was so edgy. Bobby had said she'd let them help if they said he'd sent them. Was she that overly cautious of everyone?
"Why do you think she ran?" Sam asked aloud.
"Huh?" Dean was a little preoccupied trying to keep up and trying not to think about his ribs. Though she kicked him hard enough she may have broken one. And that sucks.
"Why do you think she kicked you and ran, Dean?"
"I dunno. Chicks probably crazy. You'd have to be to run away from this mug." Dean raised his eyebrows, smiling smugly. Sam just looked at his brother incredulously.
"What? How can you run from someone this roguishly handsome?" Dean himself was confused by her adverse reaction upon seeing them. Hell, she kicked him and knocked the wind out of him trying to get away. Normally his lost tourist gimmick drew women closer and scored him a few numbers. With this girl it apparently had the opposite effect. It was only slightly disturbing.
"Uh…Dean?"
"What?"
"She just turned right there."
"Crap!" Dean slammed on the brakes and cranked the wheel, drifting into the turn Cassandra had made and took the turn a little fast. Sam pushed against the roof and dashboard so he didn't get tossed around too much as Dean straightened out. They were in suburbia hell, with its cul' de sacs and cookie cutter houses. Cassandra was ahead of them, tearing up the road as she booked it home. Dean was forced to take it slower because he didn't know the area so well. Finally they saw her red truck parked outside of a house and pulled up just as she was running up the walk way.
Cassandra stopped at the door, her nerves fried as she fumbled with the keys. After about ten seconds of unsuccessfully trying to find the right key, she tossed them over her shoulder and took a deep breath. Then she put all her anger and fear into a kick right next to the lock. The frame cracked and the door went flying open.
"Charlie!" she yelled as she ran past the stairs and entryway, into the kitchen and screamed. The living room at the back of the house looked like a bomb went off.
