Previously: Haaron explains the origins of shapeshifting. Sam gets a panicked call from Bobby about Daniel Landrick.


The Birds
installment 11

Daniel Landrick sat in his father's truck, at the foot of his own tree lined driveway with a caravan of four cars behind him. "Bobby," he whispered into his cell phone, "I know who killed my father. And she's got Dean Winchester. I followed her to my house, Bobby, and I don't know what she's doing here, but I just wanted to let you know where I am…" Daniel gulped, "in case I don't come back to the hotel tomorrow."

He hung up before Bobby could say anything, set his phone on the dashboard, and picked the sawed off shot gun up from the passenger seat. He tucked a few extra shells in his pocket before swallowing hard and opening his door. Behind him, he could hear the opening and closing of doors and trunks as the other hunters readied themselves for an ambush. Daniel waited for most of the commotion to cease before asking, "Everyone ready?"

His five man army answered with grunts and nods.

"Then let's get this bitch." He waved them up the driveway.

The Impala was parked on the lawn. The front door was ajar. Daniel tiptoed up to it first, then with the muzzle of his gun, nudged it open just enough that he could peek in. The foyer and kitchen just off the entry hall were empty. Their furniture undisturbed. He shouldered the door the rest of the way open and crossed the threshold. He turned to the two men behind him.

"Check upstairs," he hissed and tossed a hand in the direction of the stair case. "And you two," he leaned around to see the next pair, "check the basement. Me 'nd Patrick will take the main floor. And let me make this very clear," Daniel struggled to keep the tremble out of his voice, "you find her, you keep her alive. No one, no one, but me gets to make this kill shot." He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, trying his damnest to look intimidating.

His men nodded. They were all close enough to the father to obey the orders of the grieving son, and so they split, each searching their designated level of the eerily silent house.

"He must already be dead," Daniel whispered to Patrick, a boy not much older than himself whose father was upstairs scouring bedrooms. "Or he'd've heard us and be shouting for help." Daniel shook his head and cursed. "I knew I should have done something when she stopped earlier…"

Patrick couldn't muster up the bravery to offer an encouraging word. The gun he clutched with both hands shook with such force that he had to put the safety back on it; he was scared he might shoot his own foot. Around them, all the living room furniture had been tipped over, including a seven foot china cabinet, and the carpeting slashed.

The door to Daniel's father's study bore signs of being kicked in. It was a room that Daniel never been allowed in. Anything about hunting his father had wanted to show him had been brought out and displayed on the kitchen table. Daniel lead with his shot gun, hesitantly pushing the door open wide enough to walk through.

"D… Daniel…" Patrick stammered, "the… the hell is that?" He pointed above the desk.

Daniel bit back a scream. The thing mounted to the wall had a frighteningly human looking face, mouth open bearing several rows of jagged teeth. He inched up to it, not at all certain it wouldn't snap at him if he got too close. The nose was strangely squat and pointed. Its hair and ears seemed to recede, and the skin had taken on a gray blue hue.

"What is it?" Patrick repeated. He had yet to make his own way into the room.

"I don't know." A little more confident it wouldn't bite him, Daniel studied the severed head more intently. "Must be a monster we've never heard of. Hunting trophy type deal."

"Whatever, man, let's just get the hell outta here, check a different room. It gives me the creeps whatever it is."

Daniel shrugged and started to back out of the room. His heel caught on something. He stumbled and almost fell.

Patrick yelped.

Daniel caught himself on the corner of the desk, then squatted down to touch the hazardous bump in the carpet. It was cylindrical under his fingers, and he flipped back the rug's corner to better inspect it. It was a hinge, and rolling back more carpeting revealed its partner. Daniel yanked the entire rug up and tossed it aside.

A three foot by three foot door was in the middle of the floor of his father's study. Daniel hooked his foot through the handle and lifted it open. Years of reading too many novels and watching horror movies made him expect stone stairs decorated with cobwebs, lit by torches on the walls, but instead there were wooden steps much like those leading to the cellar lit by fluorescent lights. Not only was the passage spider web free, but the walls were painted a crisp shade of white.

Daniel motioned Patrick to follow him down. They had to duck because the ceiling was low.

They were just a few steps from the bottom, when Daniel saw her. His eyes got wide. Dean wasn't dead; he was standing beside her, unwinding a sweater from his wrists. Daniel lifted his shot gun. "Dean!" he shouted, "Get out of the way!"

He took aim.


A/N: I know this is a mean end to a chapter. Only two installments left! (totally accidental it came out to thirteen)