Chapter 9
Three Nights Before
"I just can't get him out of my head," Grace explained, exasperatedly to her sister. "It's like my subconscious mind is obsessed with him and I feel like I know him already."
"So go out and find him," Serra said, chewing on the beef jerky she held. "Quit complaining about it. It's getting friggin' annoying."
Grace rolled her eyes. Going out to find someone that she dreamed about was not exactly something she ever thought was a good idea. Too many times in her life, her visions had led her to something more dangerous than she was ready for.
"What if the visions are trying to warn me? What if they're setting me up for disappointment?" Grace asked, shaking her head. She stood up to pace around the living room again, scattering some of Serra's biology notes to the floor.
Staring and chewing passive-aggressively at her sister, Serendipity lifted her eyebrows. "Are you done?" she asked. Grace shrugged in response, spurring Serra further. "Look, your visions or dreams or whatever are usually pretty specific. If this guy is someone you meet up with at a bar and you don't see him attack or kill you, I think you're in the clear. Maybe your mind just really wants to get laid." She picked up the books she had laying on the couch and turned her body to face her sister. "Changing subjects, though, because I'm bored with yours, we need to think about heading after that rougarou. Pretty sure it's what took out that couple outside of town."
Shaking her head and sighing, Grace nodded and got to work, organizing the news stories that Serra had printed out at school. She was right; for now, they had civilians to protect.
…
"Leave me the fuck alone," Dean growled, turning to face Sammy. He was sweaty and rage boiled just beneath the surface. The Mark of Cain glowed faintly under the flannel sleeve that had begun to unroll down Dean's right arm.
Sam held up his hands and sighed. "Okay, okay," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Dean." Sam watched as Dean turned away from him and paced around the main room of the Batcave. He knew that his brother was on the verge of destroying something, so he did his best just to stay calm and wait for him to regain control. These days, though, it was getting harder and harder.
After what seemed like a lifetime, Dean turned back towards Sam. "I thought you said you had figured out what it was," he spat, shrugging out of the flannel and tossing it onto the back of the couch. "You said we'd get to hunt tonight."
"I know," Sammy agreed, nodding. "I did. It's a rougarou, but…I watched a bonfire last night. Two girls in the alleyway behind a hardware store where I thought the nest was. They were burning something that smelled suspiciously like flesh. I think they're hunters and I'm betting that they beat us to it."
Without warning, Dean turned towards the bookcase that Sam had just finished organizing the night before and pushed with all his might, tipping the ancient books out of the wooden shelves and making a huge pile on the floor. The bookcase collapsed on top of the heap and Dean stood back, clenching his jaw and squeezing his eyes shut. Sam closed his eyes, holding his tongue.
Striding across the floor, Dean didn't look back as he headed towards the steps that lead to the foyer of the Batcave. He grabbed a jacket, his flannel, wallet, and keys, and without another word, left Sammy standing in the middle of the library, wondering what to do next.
