I would like to apologize in advance: I know that "ellipses are the whores of punctuation" and I used them... quite generously throughout this chapter. So... sorry!
"I don't care who you are or who you claim to work for: I still don't trust you." Dean spat as Sam cut the duct tape from his brother's hands.
"Look, you don't have to trust me. I was just getting you out of harm's way. I gave your injuries a once-over in the car and you seem fine; just some bruising… but I think I should-"
"What car?" Dean said through clenched teeth. He voice belied his rising anger, completely opposing the cool with which Martha spoke.
"The Impala." She said calmly, but she still rolled her eyes, knowing what was coming next. All Sam could do was wipe an exasperated hand over his face as the older Winchester started on a tirade- overprotective over his precious Baby. However, the boys learned rather quickly that though Dean's temper was quick, Martha's had a hair trigger: what was quiet and still on the surface boiled at her core.
"Don't you dare talk to me like that!" She said, cutting him off, pointing her small index finger to his face. Though she had to look up to him because of the height difference, it didn't make her any less formidable an opponent.
"I kicked your ass and saved your ass in a span of twenty minutes and you're mad because I- what- readjusted the seat? You know good and damned well that had I left you there you'd have been dinner. You would have been the next victim. And I know you bloody idiots have been in here spinning your wheels because none of the pieces fit and you have no leads except for the information that I happen to have. So get your head out of your ass, Winchester, and let me fucking help you!"
At this point, both men's ear perked up- and not only because she had been disturbingly spot on with her analysis.
"How do you know our names?" Sam asked with renewed suspicion, wary of their new guest.
She rolled her eyes yet again before sitting down on the closest bed, kicking her feet up, and laying back onto Dean's pillow.
"You're kidding, right? The assholes who left the gate open? You released the horde… anybody who's anybody knows the Winchesters." Her anger seemed to recede back into her cool, if only slightly cocky, attitude. She proceeded to get comfy in the bed with her clothes and combat boots still on.
"Besides, I work for a government agency that investigates paranormal, supernatural, and extraterrestrial threats. That places you two squarely on my radar. But don't worry, Big Brother's not focused on you. Bigger fish, you know?" She added.
"How do we know that you're telling the truth?" Sam asked skeptically. Dean still kept a hard eye on her, but said nothing.
"Well, for one, you haven't been killed or carted off yet. But I guess you don't know. And you don't have a reason to trust me. So I'll give you this- call it a show of good faith."
With that, she stood up and reached for her bag, noticing from the corner of her eye how Dean kept his hand on his gun. The boys watched and she dug through the small duffle bag, becoming nervous when her hand disappeared up to the shoulder inside.
She couldn't seem to find what she was looking for, so she withdrew her arm and searched with both hands. She managed to pull out a vintage distressed leather doctor's bag, a few encyclopedia sized leather-bound books, a stack of journals, a slew of weapons, a small teddy bear with a lab coat and glasses, and a small, silver wand-shaped thing. "It's not what you think…" she said, shooting a glance at Dean over her shoulder before continuing her search. Dean just smirked, thinking: I bet it's exactly what I think it is. Hey, girls have needs too!
"Okay, how did you fit all of that in that bag? It's… tiny! It doesn't make sense." The younger Winchester asked.
"Gift from a friend…bigger on the inside- Ah ha! Here it is!" She pulled out a thick accordion filing case and pulled out 8 files from what must have been hundreds. She handed them to Sam before carefully repacking the bag.
"This is impossible." He had spread the files out on the small table in the shoddy motel room. Dean began to look through the files as well.
"These can't be related. They're all over. No pattern! Stop wasting our time." Dean said, though anyone could plainly see that he was interested. His brow furrowed as he looked closer at the cases.
"Same exact wounds. Same markings. Same MO matching no known rituals. All victims become homicidal apparitions shortly after their deaths. Every. Last. One." She emphasized from her spot on the bed.
"So what is it? If it's a spirit that's not vengeful, not a death omen, not your run-o'-the-mill Casper… then what kind of spirit is it?" By this point, Dean was even more intrigued.
"It's not a spirit at all. Salt won't make it dissipate. Burning the remains won't make it go away. Hell, you could burn everything the victim ever touched and it still wouldn't go away until it was good and ready."
"Well then, what is it? Since you seem to know everything."
"A Multi-Form. Normally relies on a live but dormant brain-feed to cloak its true form. But this little nasty bastard I've been tracking has figured out how to tap into the mental –feed of his victims in their last moments of life and prolong that life force, wearing that form until the life-force is completely drained. Then it kills again and does the same to that form. Kind of like an organic perception filter. Unlike most other multi-forms that choose Earth to hide from the law or whatever, this one actually seems to take pleasure in killing."
"Hold on… an organic what? And what the hell is a multiform?" Dean said. In all his years of hunting, he'd never heard these terms before.
"It's an alien." Both Winchesters looked at each other, then at Martha. Dean more-so gawked before letting out an amused chuckle.
"Alien? Lady, I knew you were crazy, but you've literally just created a new level of Nuts."
"So, I guess you missed the "extraterrestrial" portion of the job description." He said with a sigh. "So you believe in demons and ghosts and vampires, but not aliens? What's the logic behind that?"
"I believe in things that I can see; that I have seen."
"Oh, you wouldn't believe the things I've seen, mate."
"Dean, let's just hear her out." Sam interjected.
"No, no, no, Sammy. You can jump in front of the crazy train if you want, but I think I'll pass on this one."
"I'm finally close enough to smoke this thing! Even though someone barged in and probable blew my cover. So the way I see it, you have two choices: either help me or stay the hell out of my way."
"Why would you want our help? After all, we are the assholes who left the gate open…" Sarcasm dripped from Dean's every word.
Martha paused for a moment, choosing her words before speaking. "You fucked up. There's no denying that. But you're not fuck ups. I know what you guys have done and what you are doing. You're good and you're… useful. " She looked away from the boys, a bit embarrassed that she was asking for help. "I can do this on my own, but I'd have a better shot if you guys had my back on this."
The brothers looked at each other again. "Well, it's the only lead we have." Sam said with a shrug. He and Martha looked to Dean expectantly. "What the hell. I only have four more months to live anyway. Why not cross 'Aliens' off the 'ol bucket list." He took one last swig of beer and started packing a bag. The Winchesters were going alien hunting.
I finally gave you guys a time frame to work with! Yay, me! Yay, you guys! Now you know that this fic (for the time being, at least) is set after the gate was opened but before Dean goes to Hell. There's a reason for that.
Hope you liked it! More to come!
xoxo, LPL