Author's Note: Sorry for the slow update, but here's Chapter 2. It's not very long, but the next one will be much longer. So, everyone enjoy the finale tonight, and enjoy the new chapter!
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. Serenity's mine, of course, but, unfortunately, Sam and Dean are not.
RAPID CITY, SOUTH DAKOTA
A few hours later, they were in South Dakota. Dean had already forgotten about the Minnesotan waitress, but thoughts of Serenity still lingered in his mind. While Dean was intrigued by her, Sam was still extremely wary of her, and considered them lucky for not having run into her again on their way out of Minnesota. His wariness, however, led him to research the hunter. He didn't find much, just enough to confirm what Bobby had told them about her early life, and a bit more on Cane Tempest. The vampire was relatively young, by vamp standards, at least, but he had quite a life: he was the founder and CEO of Bad Blood Enterprises, which dabbled in everything having to do with show business, from producing films to scouting for actors to promoting every one of its own endeavors. The company's headquarters were, surprisingly, in Massachusetts. Not a hot bed for movie activity, but apparently, Tempest liked the "peace and quiet" his acre and a half property and two-point-five million dollar mansion afforded.
The brothers set up shop in a Days Inn outside Rapid City. It was one of the nicer hotels they'd stayed in, and they amused themselves by researching the case on lounge chairs beside the indoor pool and eating burritos at a place called Cactus Kim's. The case called for them to break into Mount Rushmore and rid the area of a restless spirit, who had a tendency to break off pieces of Lincoln's nose or Roosevelt's moustache and fling them at foreign tourists. Local legend said a man had climbed to the top of the Jefferson bust to show off, only to take a bad fall and die up there. His friends, who had pressured him into the stunt, merely left town, not exactly up to the task of climbing up and retrieving the body of their fallen comrade.
By midnight of their third night in Rapid City, Sam and Dean were at the base of Mount Rushmore, climbing gear at their feet and salt, gasoline, and matches at the ready. They stared up into the presidents' nostrils for a time, plotting out their route up, when Sam sniffed the air and asked Dean, "Hey, man...you smell that?"
Dean glanced around, breathing deeply. "Probably just a bonfire, or something," he replied. "Some kids having fun. Come on." He began unwinding the first rope, setting up for the long climb, when Sam caught his arm. "Hey, what the--" he protested, but Sam shushed him and nodded upward. The brothers looked up and, sure enough, there was a sort of bonfire up there, the light of the fire visible at the crest of Washington's skull. As they watched, transfixed by the flickering flames and the faint smell of gasoline, a figure came into view. The person swung down, over the first president's head, and repelled down the mountain easily, with a grace unknown to most, and touched ground quickly. The fire was dying by the time he or she was gathering his or her things and preparing to flee the scene.
"Hey!" Dean hissed, creeping off quickly towards the other figure.
Sam had no choice but to follow, though he growled, "What the hell are you doing?" and stayed a bit behind his brother, pulling a switchblade out of his jeans, just in case.
The figure turned to face them, then swung its head around to run, long hair bound back in a ponytail flinging back and forth like the tail of an agitated, well...pony. Closer now, Dean could just make out a woman's form, as she hefted a bag onto her shoulder and flung a coat over her arm. She glanced back at them, then vanished into the shadows.
But Dean was on her tail, as they were both well-accustomed to sneaking quickly and quietly into and out of bad situations and following those who didn't want to be followed. He reached out a hand, fingers brushing her bare arm, and managed to get a good hold on her. "What are you, stupid? What were you doing up there?" he demanded, hoping she was just a kid who had tried to do something way out of her league, and annoyed at the prospect that another hunter may have beaten he and Sam to the body.
"My job," she spat back bitterly, and even in the gloom Dean knew it was Serenity O'Leary again. She recognized him at the same moment he recognized her, and she added teasingly, "Your job, too, I guess. Been slacking, have we, boys?"
Sam caught up at an easy gait, slipping the blade discreetly back into his pocket, as Dean managed a charming smile. "So, you heard the legend, too."
Serenity nodded. "Yep. And it's all taken care of--no more presidential bits flying about, I promise."
"Why are you here?" Sam asked, trying to keep his tone light and casual instead of interrogative.
"I go where the cases bring me," she replied coolly. "I suppose Bobby told you I'm the vamp expert among hunters; I came to investigate a nest a few miles from here, heard the story, and decided to torch the remains and let the poor man rest at last."
"How did you know we talked to Bobby?" Sam asked, and this time, his voice was hard and sharp.
"Oh, Sam," Serenity sighed, as if answering a small child's inquiry, "I know everything."
"Cryptic," Dean muttered, but wilted when Serenity shot him a steely glare.
"I know all about the famous Winchesters," she told them. "I make it my business to know. Not just about you, but every other hunter out there, as well as all the monsters calling this planet home. I take joy in ridding the Earth of such creatures; don't you?"
"Eloquently put," Sam agreed blandly, a sarcastic note creeping into his tone.
"Now, if you don't mind, it's been a long day, and I still have a vampire nest to contend with." She readjusted the bag on her shoulder, managed a fleeting, friendly smile, and said, "G'night, boys. Sleep well."
Sam and Dean watched her go, tossing her things over a high fence and then climbing lithely up and over. They followed, getting to their car just as she pealed out in her own, headed for more work, then drove back to the Days Inn. Back in their room, Dean lounged on his bed while Sam surfed the Internet for other mysterious happenings to investigate.
"So, where to, Sammie?" Dean asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. Listening to Sam type was driving him up a wall.
"Well, there's a supposed haunted house in Seattle…"
"Too wet; we'll let someone else deal with it. Next?"
"Eh…rash of disappearances in Manhattan?"
Dean propped himself up on an elbow, looking at his brother. "Mysterious circumstances?"
"Um…" Sam scrolled down the webpage, skimming the New York Times article, only to sigh and admit, "No."
Dean sighed and flopped onto his back again, staring at the ceiling. "Next up?"
"Big Foot sightings in--"
"Forget it. It was a guy in a costume; I'll bet you anything."
Sam frowned at the computer, falling back into his moody silence as he scrolled through database after database. Suddenly, the typing and clicking picked up, and Dean sat up to watch his brother work busily, following a lead.
"Got something?" he prodded.
Sam nodded mutely, finishing his search, then smiled faintly. "Yeah: a string of deaths down in New Orleans. Apparently, once a month, every month, for the last year, a bunch of people have gone missing—tourists, townies, young, old. No one's safe."
"Okay, patterns are always a good place to start…"
"The last disappearances happened about three weeks ago, between nine at night and five in the morning."
"Werewolves; I like it," Dean commended. "We'll actually be hunting animals for once. Sort of…poetic, I guess." He stood and walked to Sam's side, glancing at the computer screen. "Anything else between here and there?"
"Not that I can find," Sam replied. "But we might come across something on the road." Sam shut down the laptop and tucked it away, leaning back in his chair, as Dean settled back onto the edge of his bed. Dean dug around in the side table drawer for the TV remote, came across the Bible, and waved it at Sam, grinning.
"Gotta love those Gideons," he said cheekily, tossing the book back into the drawer and pulling out the remote. He turned on the television, flipping through the channels for a good action flick, and somehow finding only Lifetime movies and repeats of primetime dramas.
Sam was quiet for a long time, lost in his own thoughts. Eventually, he piped up, "Don't you think it was weird we ran into her tonight?"
"Ran into who?" Dean asked without looking at his brother, eyes glued to the screen.
"Serenity," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "I mean, first she's after the same vampires we are, then she just so happens to show up in Rapid City to take care of a malign spirit we've had our sights on for almost a week now?"
Dean shrugged, managing to pull his attention away from another stellar Tracy Gold performance to say, "She's a hunter, Sam. We were bound to cross paths someday."
"I just think it's all too coincidental."
Dean considered his younger brother for a moment before smiling faintly. "So, she's, what?" he asked wryly. "Stalking us?"
Sam sighed. "Forget it."
"No, come on, share your conspiracy theories with me."
"I said forget it," Sam repeated firmly, frowning.
Dean laughed and looked back at the TV. "Whatever you say, bro." He reached over to shut off the bedside lamp, leaving Sam in his corner in the dark, and leaned back into the almost-flat hotel pillows. "Night, Sam."
"Yeah, good night," he replied sourly, rising from his seat and settling onto his own mattress for a good night's sleep.