Chapter Seven

A's POV

"I've gotta case." I mumble, turning my laptop screen to face Dean.
He looks at it closely, reading the article on the website of the small town newspaper.
"Five people dead, two survivors saying that a man came into their house, demanding to know where 'the weapon' was. When they couldn't answer, he attempted to kill them. Here's the fun part. Both survivors said the guy had coal black eyes and in the police report, the sheriff found sulfur along a window in both of the houses. Sound like a demon to you?"

Dean nods, sliding the computer back to me. "Yeah, but what kinda weapon is this thing lookin' for?"
I shrug, snapping the screen closed. "That's what we need to find out."

The sun seems to shine brighter in the open Kentucky air. Without all the huge plants to push smog into the sky, the UV rays reach your skin a lot better.

"I wonder if we're gonna find any of those Wrong Turn guys out here." He makes a banjo noise and laughs out loud. I shake my head at him, a half smile on my lips.
Sam trails behind us quietly. He looks nice in a suit.
"Why is it that Sam looks so good cleaned up?" I wonder aloud.
Dean shoots me a sideways glance. "Probably because it was his 'calling.'"
My brow furrows in confusion. "His calling?"

He nods, straightening his tie. "Sam was studying law."
"He was going to be a lawyer?" I can feel my eyes widen.
He chuckles. "Yeah. Sammy was goin' to Stanford. Guess it was my fault he pulled out of it. Dragged him into being a hunter and all. He's died, I've died, we've been brought back. Getting sort of annoying, actually."
Sam. A lawyer. If monsters didn't exist... If I didn't exist... He would be living a normal life. He would be a lawyer.
"I bet he was a real heart-breaker in college." I giggle. Those poor girls.
Dean shakes his head. "Sam's a... He's a one woman kinda guy. Her name was Jessica. She uh... Azazel, he... Well, she's gone."
I inhale sharply. How much do these boys have to go through? How have they not gone crazy? "He was there, wasn't he?" It comes out more of a statement than a question.
Dean's staring at the ground. "Yeah. He was."
We grow quiet as Sam gets closer. "So what's the deal here? Who are we talking to first?"
"I think the girl would probably open up to me a bit more." I put in.

"I don't know I mean, I could, maybe, I –"
"She's attractive, isn't she?" I smile.
"Oh-ho yeah."

We enter the hospital and flash our badges. A much too cheerful nurse leads Sam and Dean to the room of the injured man while another takes me to the woman. I open the door quietly. She's sitting up in her bed, a tray of untouched food on the cart beside her. The parts of her arms that I can see are bandaged and she has a long IV tube running from her left arm. I walk over to her bed, smiling softly.
"Hello, Miss Shalet. I'm Detective Warren with the FBI. I just wanted to ask you a few questions."

She lets out a long breath, shaking her head. "I already told the police everything. Don't they keep files?"
I smile again. "They do, but we prefer to hear the facts for ourselves, just to make sure everything is documented correctly."

She blinks a few times, fidgeting with the sheets on the sturdy hospital bed. "Well, my parents were into some weird stuff. There were weird markings around the floors of the house. I never knew they were there until I inherited the house and started to remodel. I found a safe in one of the walls, behind a picture. It had the weird markings on it too."
As I write her responses in my notepad, I look up at her with soft eyes. "Was there anything in the safe?"
"There was some money and a few necklaces that had belonged the my great-grandmother. I thought the man was coming in to rob us... Until I saw his eyes. And Johnathan." Her voice cracks on the name. The reports said he was her significant other, killed while attempting to protect her. He was obviously not the one the demon had come to talk to.
"You're sure there was nothing else in the safe?"
She pauses for a moment, and then her eyes light up like she's remembered something. "Actually, there was a box in the safe. It was old. And lined with a sort of velvety material. There was nothing in it, though."
"And what was that about his eyes?"

"I know it sounds crazy. They were... black. Black as coal. He grabbed me and held me to the wall by my throat. It was so hard to breathe. He was so strong, but his muscles didn't look that big. He kept saying, 'Where is the weapon?' and of course I didn't know what he was talking about. Johnathan and I didn't keep weapons in the house. We... We were trying for a baby. But he kept insisting. When I couldn't tell him anything... Something sharp just ripped through my stomach. And then he was gone."
I examine the chart attached to the foot of her bed.
Bruising around the throat, sprained ankle, dislocated wrist, multiple lacerations to the abdomen. I look further down on the chart. It seems that, despite the severe gashes the demon inflicted, the child she is unknowingly carrying wasn't harmed at all.
I put the chart down and grin at her. "It's not really my place to do this, you know. But I think you deserve some happiness in this dark time."

She looks up with questioning eyes.
"Congratulations." I breathe. "You're going to be a mother."

Her lips part, no sound coming from them. A soft exhale of breath leaves her chest. "Really?" Her hand moves down, delicately touching her stomach. "Was... Was it hurt?"

I shake my head happily. "Not a bit. Your child is perfectly fine."

She smiles then, so wide it looks like it hurts her cheeks. A few tears drop from her eyes. "Thank you."
I nod as I walk out of the room. Hopefully this poor girl can live a happy life now. She shouldn't be condemned for something her parents did or had.
Neither should you. Shut up. Not every hunt has to turn into something about me. Why not? They're all monsters. Just like you.
I shake my head, dispelling the bad thoughts. Sam is waiting in the hall for me.

"What have you got?" He asks.
"Well, she said her parents had some weird marking under the carpet of the floors in their house. She said there was a safe too, with the same marking. And in it was an old box but it was empty."

"Huh. Our guy had a similar story. Grandparents died in a car accident, when he inherited the house he found a weird safe with strange markings hidden in the floor of a closet. Safe was empty, save for an old box."

"I guess this so called weapon must have been passed through the hands of friends. We should check the connection of the families."
He deliberates for a moment, then looks at me with a sudden intensity in his eyes. "Who do you love, Allison?"
I look up quickly, caught off guard. "Huh?"
"My vision, A. You were making a deal to save the person you love."
I look at the ground as I walk, biting my lip. "That's really none of your business."
"If it's Dean, I won't tell."
I'm surprised again. "What makes you think..."
"The way you two were talking. He did hate you but doesn't anymore? That soft voice he was using. The way you leaned toward him. I know signs when I see them."
"You don't know anything."
He grabs my wrist, pulling me to a deserted corner outside the hospital. "Then help me. Maybe I can help you."
"No one can help me, Sam. Don't you get it?"

"No!" He shouts, throwing my wrist with some force. My bracelet flies off and clangs to the pavement. Before I can react he shoves my back to the wall, arms pinned to my sides.
He grabs my arm, studying the brand like he's searching for answers. "Why didn't you tell me? Does Dean know?"

I nod. "He knows. Sam, I... You hate me. That's why I didn't tell you. I'm... I'm disgusting."
His grips loosens, his eyes gazing softly into mine. "You're beautiful."
I feel suddenly nervous. His hand moves from my wrist to the top of my arm, behind my shoulder, then cups the back of my neck.

"Sam..." I mumble, looking anywhere but his face.
He lifts my chin with his finger, forcing my eyes up to his.

"I think you're perfect."
He moves his face closer, his eyes flutter closed. My heart quickens its pace. My eyes want to close but I try to force them open. I fail. His lips brush mine softly. The smell of him, the taste, the feeling of his skin, he assaults my senses.
I find myself wrapping around him, my fingers twisting into the soft locks of his hair and my leg coming up to rest on his waist. I drink in the lovely sensation, sparks flying through my abdomen.
He kisses me roughly, crushing my body to his.
A voice clears at the opening of the small alley. "Can we uh, go now?"

Sam untangles me and sets himself back. His clears his own throat, looking at the ground instead of his brother. "We better."