Available for download in PDF. I promise you that I don't have any viruses. I just strongly recommend it seeing as this was written in book format. Visit the Tumblr dedicated to this series, "11785", for details.

Or just read it here (:

FIVE

Main Street Motel
Green River, Arkansas
Thursday, June 22, 2006
6:02 AM

"In our top stories this morning, Michael Kissling, the man who claimed to have been run over by his own car, is making headlines again, this time in a much different way. Good morning everyone, I'm Janice Richardson for KTGR." Sitting up straighter, Sam reached for the dial on the television and leaned closer toward the screen. "Michael Kissling, Green River's most trivial subject, has a warrant out for his arrest this morning after video surveillance taken at the First Bank of Bradford captured the man breaking into the building and robbing it. Only on KTGR will you see this exclusive video."

As the news report paused, the door to the bathroom swung open to reveal Dean with a toothbrush in his mouth, wearing nothing but boxers. As the black-and-white clip of Michael heading into the bank and ripping open a few cash drawers played on the small television, Dean continued brushing his teeth while staring fixedly at the set. In the last few moments of video, the man started straight at the camera before it went blank. "Huh."

"In additional news, the man was reportedly seen at Sensations strip club in Jacksonville before midnight. This morning, authorities confirmed that a girl who worked there, a Miss Tiffani Stone, was found dead, locked in a closet, after a co-worker saw the two heading toward a private area of the club. Police firmly believe the two crimes were committed by the same man, though a conflicting report claims they saw the girl leave the club and drive home not long after a private meeting with Kissling, but that has not yet been confirmed."

"Told you we had a fricken shapeshifter, man!" Dean blurted out after spitting a gob of foam into the sink and turning on the tap to wash out his mouth. "We could've stopped that thing dead in its tracks yesterday, too! We were so close."

"I don't think it's a shapeshifter, Dean," Sam muttered, rolling his eyes at Dean's inattentiveness. "Remember that shifter in St. Louis and the retinal flare? This guy looked straight at the camera and nothing happened."

"Well, he definitely ain't human."

"I'll agree with you on that."

Sighing, Sam watched his brother disappear back into the bathroom before lowering the volume on the TV and lying down on the bed. Last night, he had been doing all he could to figure out what was going on with Michael Kissling, searching everything from arrest records to history on the car he had purchased. When both of those came up clean, he had tried looking for a spell or a curse that could have been placed on the Civic to make it act on its own. Unfortunately, that had also come up clean.

At close to three, when Dean had come back from his stakeout outside of the Kissling residence, Sam had finally called it a night. As his brother filled him in on the uneventful watch of the couple's house—saying that the car in the driveway was gone before he got there and that the inside was dark—Sam hadn't thought much of it and instead stayed up a little after Dean had fallen asleep before doing the same himself.

What he hadn't expected that morning was the story on the news. After waking up at half past five and making enough coffee for him and Dean, something had told him to turn on the television. As soon as he had sat down, the story on the screen told them of what Dean had narrowly missed the night before. Sam knew his brother had only returned to the bathroom to wallow in silent frustration.

Getting up to his feet, Sam headed toward his laptop and opened the lid, waiting for it to spring to life. When it did, he Google searched the surveillance video and watched it twice more before Dean emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed with a look of determination on his face. "You just gonna sit around, Sammy, or are we actually going to work today?"

Shutting the computer, Sam rested his elbow on top and raised an eyebrow at his brother. He understood that Dean took failure personally, especially when it came to a case, but didn't understand why he was so intent on taking it out on his younger brother. "What's your problem?"

"Nothing, never mind," Dean sighed, gritting his teeth and rolling his head back as he took a seat on the bed Sam had just abandoned.

Deciding to ignore it, Sam crossed the room and headed toward the bathroom, grabbing his clothes off the top of the sink. "Look, give me a minute to get dressed and we can go, alright? We'll figure out what's doing this before anyone else gets hurt."

Dean didn't believe Sam's mantra of "We'll figure this out", even after an hour of hearing it. Deciding the first place to check out would be Susan Kissling's house, the two drove the twenty miles out of town to get there, only to discover that the house was swarmed with police cars and other official-looking vehicles.

"There's no way we're getting in there," Dean had said, nodding toward the FBI agent walking through the front door. "Unless you want to try the Homeland Security badges again, but even last time was a close call."

"No," Sam sighed then, biting his lip in thought. "Let's try the police station. Maybe there won't be many people inside. We just need to change first."

"Man, I'm not putting a fricken suit on for this."

"Yes, you are."

Thankfully, the police station wasn't far from their motel, so changing and heading over hadn't been that much of a deterrent. Unfortunately, when they walked through the front doors, they found that the building was empty.

"Well this is never a good sign," Dean commented.

Their dress shoes tapped against the linoleum floor as Sam and Dean looked around, hoping to find someone inside. After a few moments of looking around, a blonde head appeared behind the desk, preceding a tan police uniform clothing a firm, supple body. As the female officer stood with her arms crossed over her somewhat voluptuous chest, Dean caught himself staring and cleared his throat. "You work here?"

"No. I'm getting ready for Halloween," the officer snapped in a raspy voice that sounded like she had been screaming herself hoarse. "Can I help you with something or are you just here to hang out?"

Something about this woman seemed familiar to him, but Dean couldn't figure out what it was. Scanning her features for a minute, Dean took in the oval face, brown eyes, and short blonde hair before pushing the feeling away. "Actually," he paused to flash the FBI badge he had retrieved from his coat pocket. "We're here for some information."

"I gave your buddies all the information they need," the officer said, taking a pencil out from behind her ear and jotting down a note in a planner before her. "So unless you guys are all experiencing extreme memory loss, maybe you should ask one of them."

"We would," Sam lied, stepping forward to relieve Dean of having to think up an excuse, "but they're from a separate office. See, our AD is having a bit of a bitchfit over the Little Rock office becoming sloppy, so he sent us out from Chicago to handle it. After asking around, it seems like the other team's preparing to close up shop while we're still working. So any and all information that you've given them is just going to go to waste."

Taking a moment to consider his words, the blonde tapped the eraser of her pencil against her full lips before grinning. "Alright. Whatever. It's not like I have anything else to do. What do you need to know? And make it quick before everyone else comes back. We're not a big precinct, but the other guys that work here are pretty much the biggest assholes on this side of the equator and try to make up in size by kicking other people around."

"We'll be quick," Dean smirked and stepped forward to lean against the desk the officer was standing behind to get a good look at her nametag. "So, Cooper, huh? Any relation to Alice?" Officer Cooper cleared her throat and shot him a glare. "Alright, alright. What can you tell me about the body of the dead girl found at the strip club?"

Reaching over to retrieve a file from under a pile of papers, Cooper flipped it open and scanned the page inside. "Died of blunt trauma to the face. Witnesses claim she went into a room with Michael Kissling and they heard sounds of struggling. Of course, it was inside of a strip club, so the moans could have been anything." Stopping to flip through the documents inside, the officer sighed. "Other reports say she was seen leaving the club in a black Honda CRV. Surveillance shots and a registry run point out that the vehicle belongs to Susan Kissling, though she has no memory of loaning the car to the woman. A cell phone check shows that the two never had contact before, so I'm inclined to believe her."

"There's no video of the girl getting into the car?" Sam frowned.

"The cameras there only take a series of pictures once every minute. We have the car heading into the lot, parking, Michael Kissling heading in, then the car leaving. No driver is indicated."

"What about traffic cameras?" Dean asked.

"Towns as small as Jacksonville or Green River don't have those things, boys. In fact, the Internet here still runs on dial-up in most places. Only the motel and the bar have high-speed, and that's only because both owners have the money to pay for satellite service," Officer Cooper shut the folder and placed it in front of Dean. "We don't have much homicide, either. I'm pretty sure the last death this precinct ever investigated was a self-inflicted gunshot wound that happened while Calvin Williams was cleaning his rifle." Tapping the file, she eyed Dean and Sam for a minute before shoving it toward them. "Take this, read it, and if you find anything helpful, there's a copy machine in the corner. If you don't find what you're looking for, just give it back."

Nodding, Dean accepted the folder and turned to look at Sam, who also nodded in thanks. As the two turned around, Officer Cooper grabbed the mug of coffee that had been sitting near her hand while she was talking and headed into a separate office.