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. Once more, I'm terrible. This took way longer than I wanted it to. SORRY! I have recently discovered that I am way busier in the summer than I am during school and I just haven't had time to write. But I made time today and stayed up like all night to finish it and it's longer than most so I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks to all my reviewers. You guys are amazing, even though this wasn't fast to come out it would probably be even slower without you. Thanks so much for reading please keep doing so and then let me know what you think. Suggestions? Enjoy and again so sorry.
Chapter Eleven
Happy Hunting!
Charlie felt like her eyelids had been glued shut when she woke up the next morning with an overwhelming yawn. She started to roll over, relishing every crack of her aching back and almost toppled to the floor before remembering that she was on the lumpy couch instead of the comfy bed. She groaned loudly and pried her eyes open to see if she had an audience. The room was empty.
Charlie heaved herself to her feet and stretched the kinks out of her tight muscles. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and gazed lazily around the room. Everything seemed to be in the same order as last night except that both beds were empty and the keys to the Impala were missing. The bathroom door was shut and she could hear the shower water splashing against the tile. Every few minutes the sound of the water would be drowned out by the off pitch wailing of Dean singing "Welcome to the Jungle." When he reached a particularly high note, Charlie figured she had solved the mystery of what had woken her up. She sighed and took her time pulling out clothes for the day ahead. She glared at the bathroom door with her toothbrush clutched in her hand. Ten minutes later and Dean still showed no signs of finishing up. Charlie scoffed to herself. She'd had enough. She dug through her duffle bag until her hand touched a cool piece of metal at the bottom. Jackpot! She freed the bobby pin from the bag and got to work on the bathroom lock. Within a minute Charlie heard a familiar click and pushed the door open. The volume of the slapping water and Dean's voice increased ten fold and Charlie sighed with relief to see the shower curtain was pulled all the way across, keeping Dean hidden from view. As curious as she was about him, she wasn't sure she could handle replaying the image of Dean in the shower every time she saw him in the future.
She padded into the room as quietly as possible and started brushing her teeth. When she turned on the faucet she immediately realized that she made a mistake. Dean's song came to a halt and he whipped part of the curtain aside.
"What the hell are you doing?" Dean shouted. He was clearly surprised to see her there, but Charlie had her back to him and could only see the vague outline of his body through the steam-clogged mirror. "Get out!" He ordered.
Charlie couldn't help, but smile at the sound of exasperation in his voice. "No. You're taking a marathon shower and the toothpaste is in here." She shrugged like it was no big thing, but she could feel his eyes on her back and his stare made her want to squirm.
"Leave!" He demanded again.
"Uh…no. I'm not done."
"Seriously, this isn't cute. How would you feel if someone busted in on mid-shower?"
"Wow, I didn't think you would be such a girl about this," Charlie responded through a mouthful of toothpaste. She could practically hear Dean's teeth clack together as his mouth closed in abrupt surprise. She decided to take advantage of his discomfort. Rinsing out her mouth with water, she finished up with her oral hygiene and turned to face Dean. The sight of him hit her harder than she thought it would, but she hid it well. She couldn't control the immediate increase of her heart rate or the tightening of her stomach muscles at the sight of the water droplets that clung to the tips of his hair and then slid down his temple, across his hard jaw line, over his pulsing neck, and down the contours of his well toned chest muscles until it disappeared behind the curtain that hid his lower body. The heat of the shower suddenly seemed overwhelming, but she refused to clue him in; she kept her cheeks from flushing and her gaze from lingering on his torso. Instead she stared at his obscenely attractive face. Much better. She took a step closer to him, a teasing smile spread across her lips. "I mean, I never thought Dean Winchester would be one to complain about having a girl with him while he was showering."
Dean's eyes widened at first, clearly surprised by her shift in attitude, but then he smirked. "Well if you want to come join me like you seem to be implying then this would be a different situation altogether." His voice had gone deeper and he leaned towards her so that water from his body was dripping on her feet. The shower curtain shifted slightly—enough so that any further down and his lower abdomen would be exposed. Dean raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to respond.
Charlie tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry and she knew that he saw her frazzled. That for a moment of total insanity she had actually considered his offer. Shocked by her own thoughts, she stumbled backwards slightly and shook her head. She cleared her throat and tried to recover. "I'm not sure you could handle that."
"Sure. Keep telling yourself that."
Charlie turned away from his scrutinizing gaze. "Where's Sam anyways?" She asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject.
"Getting coffee and food," Dean answered. And suddenly Charlie felt a stream of hot water land on her head, soaking her hair and clothes. She spun to face a grinning Dean who was reinserting the portable showerhead. He grabbed his towel with one hand while turning off the shower with the other. Charlie wanted to kill him, but didn't trust herself if she actually had to touch him.
"Payback," he said as he wrapped his towel low around his waist.
"You're such a baby." Charlie spat, staring down at her now drenched T-shirt. She wasn't going to let him win this one. She had seen the way he grinned when he first saw her reaction to him in the shower. Well, two could play at that game. She quickly peeled off the wet shirt, leaving her in a simple black bra. "Thanks a lot," she said, grabbing an extra towel and drying her chest off.
Dean didn't bother to hide his reaction to Charlie: his eyes went directly to her chest and then followed the trail of the towel back up to her face. He cleared his throat and brushed by her to escape the bathroom. Bare skin brushed bare skin as they passed. They were both highly aware of the other's presence.
As Dean made his way out of the bathroom, Sam entered the hotel room, coffees in hand.
"Hey, where's Charlie?" Sam asked, looking pointedly at the vacant couch.
Before Dean could answer, Charlie emerged from the bathroom, toweling off her hair. Sam's eyebrows immediately shot up and his eyes widened. He had the decency not to stare openly at Charlie's half naked torso the way Dean had, but he did stare back and forth between the two of them.
"Okay, I feel like I just walked into a parallel universe because I couldn't have been gone that long." Sam said, looking meaningfully between Charlie and Dean.
"Ew, no." Charlie answered with a quick look in Dean's direction. Time to change the subject. "One of those coffees for me?"
"Uh, yeah," Sam said, handing it to her. She smiled, took a big swig and set it down so that she could pull on a clean shirt. "Anyway, so I dropped by the county records office this morning and I think I found our ghost. Her named was Victoria Walker and hers is the only death that matches the one from the story. And get this, the coroner estimated the time of death to be soon after midnight,"
"Well that clears up the whole 12:08 mystery." Charlie responded.
"Problem is that both mother and daughter were cremated."
"Of course, nothing can ever be easy for us." Dean said from where he was changing in the bathroom.
"Good news is that she has a sister who lives in town. I thought we could swing by and talk to her."
"Sounds good to me," Charlie answered, taking a huge bite of her bagel.
"And before I left I got to talking with the receptionist a little—."
"Was she hot?" Dean called out. Charlie rolled her eyes and nodded for Sam to continue.
"Anyway, she told me that the bridge had just recently been repaired and reopened after about a decade," Sam explained.
"Hence the sudden reappearance of the murders," Charlie said with a nod.
"Exactly."
Charlie stared at Sam. She was impressed. "Well, weren't you busy this morning."
"Apparently I wasn't the only one." Sam smirked at her. They were sitting across from each other at the table, eating breakfast and waiting on Dean.
"Okay stop. Don't let your mind wander any farther than that or I'll slap you." Charlie said. Sam just laughed. "I know what you're implying, but nothing happened. You just walked in at a bad time."
"Uh huh. Sure," he responded sarcastically.
She glared at him, ripped off a piece of her bagel, and chucked it at him. Before the battle could escalate, Dean finally came out of the bathroom, fully groomed.
"What are you two waiting for? Let's go!" He instructed, strutting out the front door and leaving Charlie and Sam with no choice, but to follow.
An hour later Victoria Walker's younger sister was showing Charlie and the boys up to her attic where she stored some of her sister's possessions.
"There should be some boxes around here somewhere with old pictures and such that you can use for your article," Mrs. Polluck, Victoria's sister, explained.
Charlie looked around the dimly lit room that was scattered with cardboard boxes and felt the urge to groan. She turned back to their host. "I just want to thank you so much once again. This information will be so helpful in recounting the gruesome history of the bridge. I'm sorry to be reminding you of all this," she added, softly touching the older woman's hand. She really was sorry; if anyone knew the need to hide from the past it was Charlie.
"Oh, don't apologize. No matter how much I hate to think of what happened to her, it's nice to talk about her—to think about her. I don't do that enough." Mrs. Polluck answered. Her eyes were glazed over as if she was in another world. "Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Just make sure to say goodbye when you're through." She snapped out of her trance and headed back downstairs.
With a short pause and a shared look the three of them got started kicking up dust and riffling through old boxes.
After what seemed like hours of digging through junk, Charlie thought she finally found something useful. She quickly called Sam and Dean to join her on her side of the room.
"You called us over here to show us baby pictures?" Dean asked skeptically. He scoffed and started to walk away, but she tugged him back by his belt hoop.
"Just hold up. This is a baby book and a lot of the time there will be other keepsakes from the baby's childhood like—Ah! I knew it—a lock of hair." Charlie explained, pointing to the hair of Victoria Walker's child. "I believe I just found our remains." A smug grin spread across her lips.
"Too bad it's the mother going psycho killer and not some jacked up kid." Dean argued.
Charlie paused for a moment, her smile twisting into a thin line.
"Man's got a point," Sam conceded.
"Well, girl's got a better one," Charlie bit back, her eyes lighting up with an idea. "I'm thinking, what if the mom is clinging to the baby's spirit—that they're connected somehow. She can't protect the kid if she's moved on so she became a part of her." Charlie was nodding her head as she spoke like she was trying to convince herself as much as the boys.
After a long pause used to absorb the theory, Dean shook his head. "Nah, I mean I've never heard of anything like that."
"Aw, come on! It's the best we got. We've been searching forever and this is the only semblance of remains we've found. We might as well give it a shot. Even if my theory is complete shit and there is some other DNA out there that we probably would never find, chances are that if the kid's gone the mom will be able to split too. No use for her to stick around then."
"Okay, so say we burn the hair—how do we know your insane theories have worked? We can't just sit around here and wait for weeks to make sure there's no more deaths," Dean reasoned.
Charlie looked at Sam then, noting his quiet. She could see in his face that he thought her idea had merit, but that he knew Dean had a point. So she plastered a big smile on her face and shrugged like her next suggestion was no big thing.
"Well, I'll just have to go down to the bridge and confirm it for myself then, won't I?" Charlie said. She stood up, tucked the baby book under her arm, and proceeded to walk out of the attic as an effective end of the conversation.
Hours later Charlie sat on the stone ledge of the bridge, watching Dean pace back and forth and mumble something to himself.
"Will you please stop? You're giving me a crick in the neck." Charlie finally asked, rubbing the back of her neck for added effect.
"Good," Dean sneered, but stopped walking all the same.
"I still don't see why you're so cranky. You didn't have to come."
In the dark, she couldn't make out Dean's expression, but from his tense silhouette she could see that he was mad. "According to 'Saint Sam' we shouldn't let you do this alone. You needed back up while one of us stayed behind in a place where we could burn the hair without any problems."
"Well duh, but how come you're here and not Sam?" She asked, staring up at the stars that dotted the black sky.
"Rock, paper, scissors." Then he seemed to mumble something to himself that Charlie translated as 'Always with the damn scissors.'
Dean started pacing again. His rubber soles beat against the tar with a soft thud in a steady drumming that became almost hypnotic in the still night. Finally Charlie couldn't take anymore. If she didn't stop him he would put her to sleep. She hoisted herself up and grabbed his arm. He instantly stilled.
"Look I get it. I piss you off. I'm the last person you want to be out here with. Fine. But I need you to chill out. You're making me anxious when I need to be alert," Charlie said.
"You're not the last person," he offered quietly.
"Huh?"
"I can think of worst people to be out here with," he answered, his eyes glued to the spot where her hand touched his arm. She pulled it away.
"Like who?" She asked, but was smiling.
"Well, our ghost for one," Dean answered, making Charlie laugh.
"So we got about ten minutes until the scheduled attempt on our lives. How about we call a truce tonight?" She held out a hand for him to shake.
He took it. "Just for tonight," he teased and shook her hand firmly. Neither of them let go. Like they couldn't until suddenly Dean was propelled backwards, rocketing through the air like a torpedo and landed on the tar with a loud thunk. Charlie was so surprised that she almost froze. They were supposed to have ten more minutes! But here she was, the late Victoria Walker in the flesh—so to speak. She approached Dean like a predator on the prowl. Jerky movements sent her dark hair flying and her battered limbs seemed to shake, except for the one, firm arm that was clutching a young, screaming child. The woman looked crazed.
Dean was slow to get up, but he was moving which Charlie took as a good sign. Charlie sprinted to the side of the bridge where she had been sitting just minutes before. She grabbed the salt loaded shotgun, lined up the shot, and fired a round right through Victoria's forehead. The woman disappeared just as she was midair to attack Dean.
"You okay?" Charlie called as she dug in her pocket for her phone.
"Yeah," Dean answered, swiping off blood from a cut on his cheek.
Charlie quickly found Sam's number and was about to press send when both the phone and the shotgun were knocked from her grip. Charlie's eyes widened as Victoria came into view. Victoria's eyes seemed almost red with fury and Charlie could do nothing to stop her ice cold, rock hard fingers from curling around Charlie's neck. Next thing she knew, Charlie's feet were off the ground, lifted by the neck until Victoria slammed Charlie's body to the ground. Charlie choked out a gasp of pain with the sound of the sharp crack. She sputtered and flailed trying to get any ounce of oxygen she could manage without letting Victoria snap her neck. Charlie's vision started to blur as she slowly started losing consciousness. She heard a distant pop and as suddenly as it had been taken away she could breathe again. She stared up at Dean gratefully as he reloaded the shotgun he had just fired at Victoria. Charlie recovered quicker than she thought possible with an adrenaline induced burst of energy. She crawled over to her phone and clicked send. Sam picked up on the first ring.
"Burn it now!" Charlie croaked into the phone as Victoria reappeared to go after the shotgun-wielding Dean. Apparently she didn't care for being shot at.
Sam didn't bother to respond, but Charlie knew he had listened. As Victoria launched herself at Dean, her body exploded, shimmering orange before landing as a pile of ash.
"You guys okay?" Sam shouted from the phone as Charlie and Dean stared at each other.
"I can't believe that actually worked," Charlie finally said aloud.
"So you guys are both okay?"
"Yeah," she said and hung up.
Dean walked over and helped her to her feet.
"She was early," was all he said.
"Guess she needed time to subdue us and then kill us at the precise time."
They both remained quiet as they gathered up their gear and began to trek the half mile back to the car.
Charlie gently touched her still tender throat. She was going to have a nice bruise there for a while.
"Hey, thanks for uh…not letting that chick choke me to death," Charlie said, swallowing her pride with a gulp.
"We're even," Dean replied.
"You could have gotten rid of me for good though," she joked.
"Eh, not worth it. I'd never hear the end of it from Sam," he teased, but she thought she heard something in his voice—affection?—as they headed back to the car, chatting quietly and for once, without argument.