Hunter's Mystique

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or its Characters including Sam and Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Castiel, etc. They are the property of Eric Kripke and The CW.

Author's Note: Hey guys! First off, I want to apologize. I am so sorry that this took me so long. I am aware of how much I suck. My professors have been piling on the work the past month or so and I just haven't had time to write anything besides school work. But I wanted to thank all the people who reviewed. You are all amazing! You are the reason this chapter even got out at all. You all inspired me to stay up all night a finally spit out a chapter. So thanks so much those of you who gave me comments. If it wasn't for you guys this probably would be written yet! Please keep reviewing, I get really excited when I see them and then I get guilty when I haven't written in a while to the more reviewers the faster the updates. I hope you like this one. A big part of this chapter references a season four episode so if you haven't seen it yet, then this might go way over your head. But I hope you enjoy it anyway and I'm done with school in a few weeks so hopefully I can start updating this baby faster. Review!

Chapter Ten

Judging The Book By Its Cover

Charlie stared at Dean with a cautious smile as Sam tried to calm his fits of laughter. Dean glared at her; jaw clenched and eyes hard, which only made her smile even bigger. Colby, Dean's date, watched the stand off from within the room. Dean was too busy focusing his anger on Charlie to notice Colby gathering her purse and jacket.

"I'm gonna go," Colby said and ran from the room, cheeks flaming red with embarrassment.

"No, wait!" Dean protested, finally taking his eyes off of Charlie to watch Colby book it out of there. His objection did nothing to slow her pace. Dean turned his frustration back to Charlie and Sam. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Charlie shrugged, seeming satisfied with how events had played out. She tugged at Sam's arm and pulled him into the motel room as his laughter subsided. He managed to grab their food and the pile from the glove compartment before she closed the door behind them.

"Settle down, Dean. It was a joke," Charlie said.

"Ha Ha! Very funny." He shouted.

"Aw, is somebody sexually frustrated?" Charlie teased.

Dean gave up on her, turning to Sam who was now sitting in one of the chairs surrounding the small table so he could finish his dinner. "I'd expect her to pull this shit, but after all the crap you've done lately I thought you'd give me one night." Dean said.

Sam immediately sobered up. He stopped eating and stared down at the table. There was no trace of his previous amusement left on his face. His smile turned, corners of his mouth falling to a frown and his eyes became sad. Dean's anger-induced guilt trip had served to kill the entire mood of the room.

Charlie immediately felt the need to stick up for Sam. "Dean, don't be an ass. If you're gonna be pissed at someone it should be me." She walked away from him towards one of the beds. "The game was my idea and I didn't think you could hear us." She sat down on the bed.

"Of course we could hear you! You're throwing shit at my door and then giggling about it obnoxiously loud."

"I don't giggle."

"That's what it sounded like to me." Dean responded. Charlie lay back on the bed, stretching out as far as she could. "I'd be careful if I were you. You never know what you might be laying on."

Charlie immediately leapt up, grossed out by his implication. She glared at his suspiciously. "You two didn't do anything." She accused, not wanting to give up her bed.

"You sure about that? You don't know how long we were in here before the two of you came back." Dean's anger was slowly dissipating, replaced by the amusement of messing with her mind.

"You were both fully clothed."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm gonna open the door in my birthday suit."

She bit her lip, contemplating his words. "Then I'll take the other bed." She moved towards it.

"How can you be so sure which bed we were on?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised. Sam laughed at that, knowing that Dean's mind games were getting to her.

"I don't believe any of this." Charlie protested. She jutted her hip to the side and crossed her arms. Dean moved forward, closer to her.

"Suit yourself. Just try not to think about what you might be rolling in tonight when you're trying to fall asleep." He was standing so close to her that their feet were practically touching.

She looked from the cocky grin on his face to the bed and back again. "Ugh! I hate you." She grumbled and then slammed into his shoulder as she pushed past him to the couch.

Dean laughed triumphantly and collapsed on one of the beds, savoring the look of annoyance on Charlie's face.

"Alright enough," Sam said, stepping forward to get both of their attention. "While you were here Charlie and I confirmed the connection between all of the deaths. They all died at exactly 12:08 am."

"Even the suicides?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think I may have an explanation then," Dean said.

Sam cocked his head to the side. "How?"

"I told you I'd get information out of her."

Sam rolled his eyes and Charlie tried to get as comfortable as she possibly could on the couch before Dean told his story. "What'd you find out?" Sam asked.

"There's a local ghost story around here about that bridge. According to Colby, one night about twenty years ago there was a woman who lived just off the road from the bridge. She was home alone with her baby girl when a man broke into her house and attacked her. The woman managed to get out with her baby. She was running to get help and she got as far as the bridge before the man caught up with them and beat both to death. Local legend is that the mother kills those who pass on the bridge to protect her kid," Dean finished the last sentence almost dramatically by leaning forward and lowering his voice an octave.

"So I guess we have a pretty good idea who our ghost is," Sam said.

Charlie rose from the couch and went over to one of the bags on the desk—the one with Sam's laptop in it. The boys weren't paying attention to her as she started rummaging through the bag, looking for the computer.

"What I don't get is why the murders started only ten years ago. I mean, you said the woman her baby were killed about twenty years ago, so what happened to the first ten years?"

"And what's with the time? Why 12:08?" Dean posed the next obvious question. Sam shrugged and they stared at each other as they searched their brains for answers.

Charlie tuned them out as they continued to spit stupid ideas and ask unknowable questions. She finally felt the cool metal of Sam's laptop at the bottom of the bag. She pulled it out, intending to look up the details of Dean's story, but stopped when a small book fell onto the table when she finally pulled the computer free. She picked up the book with every intention of throwing it right back into the bag, but paused when she got a good look at the cover. It was definitely not your everyday research material—no, the cover of this book was a drawing of two men, big and muscley, holding guns and staring off into the distance. It looked like the cover of some cheesy romance novel, in fact one of the men on it reminded her of that male model from the eighties—maybe it was the nineties. What was his name? Oh! Fabio. The book definitely peaked Charlie's interest. Why would Sam have a romance novel called Supernatural?

Charlie started leafing through the first couple of pages without fully paying attention to what she was reading. She flipped further into the book and her jaw slowly fell open as she realized what she was reading. 'Sam and Dean' were the main character doing this and that. A pair of brothers who hunt monsters and happen to be on a search for John, their missing father. This can't be real.

"Oh my Jesus!" She said softly, the contents of what was in her hands fully registering and transmitting from her brain to her mouth.

Sam and Dean hadn't noticed her until she spoke. Sam looked at her first and saw what she was holding. "Oh no." He groaned. Dean looked at his brother, confused by his reaction. Dean couldn't see the book—his view was blocked by Sam's bag. But he saw Charlie's face and did not like the evil twinkle in her eye or the devious smile on her lips.

Charlie was slowly getting more engrossed in the story, eating up every word like it was the last cookie in the jar. Dean got up from the bed; curious as to what was making her so giddy. His eyes widened when he saw the book—the first in the Supernatural series. He immediately shot an accusing glance at Sam as if asking: why the hell do you have that here? Sam just shook his head, at a loss for how she got her hands on it.

"Put it away," Dean ordered, taking a menacing step closer to her.

She looked up, noticing for the first time that she was being addressed. She laughed, unable to wipe the grin off of her face. "No."

"Stop reading now!" Dean's voice took on a gruff, gravelly tone like he was trying to be tough and intimidating. He took another cautious step forward.

"Are you kidding? No way. This baby's a gold mine." Charlie exclaimed, holding up the book. "But if the person who drew this cover thinks you have even half the muscles as this Fabio character, the artist is sadly mistaken," she teased, but apparently that wasn't the right thing to say because Dean seemed to snap. He launched at her, knocking over a chair in the process. She danced out of the way and ran to the other side of the room. Sam decided not to get involved. He moved against the wall, trying his best to get out of the way. He didn't want to get hit in the crossfire. Dean whirled around to face Charlie. She was directly across the room from him, waving the book in the air—taunting him with the embarrassing bait. Dean bounded across the small room, jumping over the beds in the process and leapt at her. She tried to scramble out of the way, but cursed the small, enclosed space when he grabbed her arm and pulled her down to the floor. He pinned her to the ground—his full weight on top of her—and reached to yank the book from her grip, but she managed to maneuver the book so that it was under her back.

"Seriously, just give me the book." Dean demanded, trying to grope under her body for it.

She raised her eyebrows. "Any further down with those hands and you better buy me dinner first."

"Give me the book and I'll stop." His face was very close to hers—their noses almost touching—and she tried to lean away but her head just smacked against the rug.

"Why do you have this?" Charlie asked, instead of complying with his demands. He didn't answer. "Who wrote it?" Again, Dean just stared at her, waiting for her to surrender the book.

"It's a gospel…about us." Sam answered, finally opting to get involved in the tussle. Dean shot Sam a look.

"Shut up Sam!"

"It was written by a prophet."

"Sam!"

"What's the big deal, Dean? There's no reason she shouldn't know. Especially if she's gonna help us stop the apocalypse—she'll be in them."

"Seriously?" Charlie asked from under Dean. She seemed enthused about being a character in the series.

"Dean, get off of her. What are you—twelve?" Sam said and then proceeded to grab Dean by the back of his shirt and throw him off of Charlie. Sam offered her a hand and pulled her back to her feet.

"Thanks." She said with a smile.

Sam returned it easily, but held out a hand for the book. Her smile dropped and her shoulders sagged. She handed him the book reluctantly. Dean smirked at her and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"You both are such buzz kills." Charlie exclaimed and grabbed Sam's laptop before making herself comfortable on the couch.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

"Looking up some details about our spirit." Charlie answered, but fixed him with a look like it's none of your business. "And then I'm going to bed. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, of course not. Enjoy the couch." Dean shot at her and then disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Charlie wished the lasers shooting from her eyes were real and that her stare could actually injure him at the moment. Unfortunately for her, that wasn't the case.

"If you want a bed, it's yours." Sam offered gallantly. She shook her head. "Look, I know my brother better than anybody. He was lying. The beds are safe to sleep on—both of them."

Charlie smiled warmly at him. "I'll take the couch for now. It's pretty comfy. It'll be leverage for next time at a grosser motel and it's Dean's turn to sleep on the couch. Or maybe the floor." She said, enjoying the image of Dean lying stiffly and uncomfortably on cold, bug-ridden tiles.

"Very nice strategy." Sam nodded his head in approval.

"I know."

"All right. I'm gonna hit the hay. Night Charlie."

"Night Sam." There was a strange moment when Sam leaned down as if he was about to kiss her on the cheek, but changed his mind at the last minute. He went into the bathroom with Dean to brush his teeth. A few minutes later both boys were in their designated beds in preparation for an early morning ahead of them.

Charlie had powered up the computer, searching the internet for any information about Dean's spirit theory. She couldn't find anything useful—nothing Dean hadn't already told her.

Before shutting down the computer and calling it a night, Charlie looked up to make sure both brothers were asleep. She typed in the word Supernatural into a book search engine and waited for the results. She grinned, the light from the computer casting an eerie glow on her face. There they were—every book in the series—listed on that website, waiting to be read and mocked. She highlighted the entire series and clicked the checkout box. It only took her a minute to fill in the false credit card information and the shipping address to Bobby's house. When she was done she closed the computer and fell into an easy sleep with a big smile on her face. Five to nine business days—she couldn't wait.