Chapter Four
Tru slowly came to, realizing she was tied to a chair. She pulled at the ropes on her wrists.
"What the hell?" she muttered.
"We should be asking you that question."
Tru watched as Dean walked in front of her, Sam joining him. She appeared the be in one of the motel rooms, probably theirs, judging by the two beds in the room. Dean was dressed in jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket.
He was wearing that last night…
She looked over to see Sam wearing jeans, a green plaid button-down, and a brown cargo jacket.
They're both wearing what they wore when they died.
Tru also noticed that Dean was now wearing that bronze amulet. She looked up at them. "What?"
"Don't play dumb with us," growled Dean. "We know."
Tru frowned. "Know?"
"About you," said Sam, eyes narrowed at her, "and your little secret."
Tru's eyes widened. How the hell did they find out? "You know about me?"
"Don't act so surprised," said Dean. "We're not as stupid as you think."
"Okay," said Tru. "I know that my secret is a little shocking, but don't you think that this is taking things a little far?"
"You've killed people," growled Dean. "I think this is taking things just far enough."
"Whoa, don't you think you have that a little backwards?" said Tru.
Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I don't kill people," said Tru. "I save them."
"Oh, yeah, I'm sure that getting mauled and your heart ripped out is exactly what they wanted," said Dean.
"What? You mean Eddie?"
"Yeah, your little snack two nights ago," said Dean. "Thought you could get away with it, didn't you?"
"Get away with it?" said Tru. "I didn't do anything!"
"Nice try," said Dean. "But we know what you are."
"So you keep saying, but I'm not so sure," said Tru. "You've got it all wrong."
"Oh, do we?" said Dean.
"Yes!" Tru pleaded. "I am not killing these people, believe me! I'm saving their lives!"
"And we're going to believe a werewolf?" said Dean, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, 'cause you're not lying."
Oh, my gosh…I was right. They really do think they're hunting werewolves. Tru frowned. "Werewolf?"
"Yeah, werewolf, bitch," growled Dean.
Tru rolled her eyes. "Well, that would explain the silver bullets."
"Silver bullets?" asked Sam.
"Yeah, you both have a .45 loaded with silver bullets," said Tru.
Sam shared a shocked look with Dean. "How did you know that?"
"It's my secret," said Tru. "It's not that I'm a werewolf. It's that I'm…I save lives."
"You keep saying that, but what does that mean?" asked Sam.
"It means that dead people ask for my help," Tru explained. The brothers' eyebrows raised. "My day restarts, and I have to stop them from dying."
"That's insane," said Dean.
"This coming from the two guys who think they're hunting werewolves," said Tru.
"We are hunting werewolves," said Dean. "And you're one of them."
Sam put his hand up to cut Dean off. "Then why are you following us?"
"Yesterday, you were the ones that asked for my help," Tru told them.
"We asked for your help?" asked Sam.
"Well, technically, Dean did," said Tru.
"So let me get this straight," said Dean. "Sam and I died, I asked for your help, your day rewound, and now you're trying to stop us from dying."
"Exactly," said Tru.
"How are we supposed to believe you?" said Sam.
"The same way I know that Dean is carrying three badges: FBI Agent Dean Murdoch, Police Officer Dean Turner, and Private Investigator Dean Freeley. Sam is carrying three badges also: Federal Marshal Sam Stiles, FBI Agent Sam Simmons, and FBI Agent Sam Haggar. By the way, very original. You've both got tattoos just under your left collarbone—a pentacle inside of a sun. Judging by the look of them, I'd say you got them sometime in the last week. You've both got a hidden compartment in the leather of your wallets, where your real driver's licenses are. Dean Winchester, born January 24, 1979, Lawrence, Kansas. Sam Winchester, born May 2, 1983, Lawrence, Kansas."
Sam and Dean exchanged looks before emptying their jacket pockets to check which IDs they had on them.
"How do you know this?" asked Sam.
"Because the two of you were lying on slabs in the morgue last night," said Tru.
They stared at Tru for a moment before heading to the far side of the room.
"What do you think?" asked Sam.
"I think it's pretty freaking nuts," said Dean.
"Any more nuts than werewolves?" said Sam. "Or demons? Or spirits, or whatever the hell else we hunt?"
"I mean, come on, Sam," said Dean. "A girl who travels through time to save people? Its obviously a lie!"
"What about the IDs and the tattoos and the silver bullets? Hell, she even knew where we hide our real IDs and what was on them. Maybe we should give her a chance.
Dean glared at Tru, shaking his head. "Not without proof." He began advancing on Tru, pulling out a silver knife.
"Dean!" Sam called, heading to intercept.
Tru struggled in the chair. "No! Let me go!" Dean grabbed hold of her arm and drew the knife across her skin, drawing blood. "Ow!"
Dean stared at the cut. "It didn't hurt…"
"I think the word 'ow!' begs to differ," growled Tru.
"He meant the silver doesn't burn," said Sam. "You're not a werewolf."
"Duh, they don't exist," said Tru.
"Hate to break it to you, honey, but they do," said Dean as he knelt down on Tru's left to untie her leg and arm, as Sam untied the right.
"That's insane," said Tru.
"This coming from the girl who relives days," Dean threw back at her.
"Look at what you can do," said Sam. "Is it really so hard to believe?" Tru stood up and grabbed a Kleenex from the box on the nightstand. She placed it to the cut on her arm and held it there. "Dean and I, we're hunters. We hunt spirits and werewolves and other supernatural creatures."
"Huh," said Tru. "Well, that would explain what happened to you two."
"What are you talking about?" asked Dean.
"I think you guys better come with me," said Tru.