.No excuses for lack of updates here... just a warning... when you let the geniuses at a tech-y store like Best Buy update your computer, make sure your files are saved elsewhere. They might just shout, 'surprise! you have a brand-new hard-drive!' if you don't.
Losing all your work is rough, boys and girls. Back it up!
wwsadd
Crime and Punishment
Contrary to my previous beliefs, Dean Winchester wasn't totally useless. It only took him fifteen minutes to convince Dr. Marcos that I needed to be released. I only halfway listened to his tale about an ultra-religious family with strong views on the American health care system; but from what I did manage to catch, it was pretty damn good bull shit.
Climbing into his Impala roughly half-an-hour later sort of felt like dragging myself up a rickety set of wooden steps to a swinging noose.
Shifting until I was as comfortable as I could get in the passenger seat, I rested my head against the window and breathed deeply. The pain meds were wearing off quickly, and I couldn't decide which was going to be worse: the sharp ache in my left side or the intense throbbing behind my eyes.
"So, I guess I didn't give you enough credit, gramps. You found me after all." I managed to bite out, as Dean guided the car out of the parking garage and into the gloomy, overcast afternoon.
With a chuckle he replied, "I had help, ya know. Not that I wouldn't have figured it out otherwise. But the nurses gave me pretty good directions on how to get here—I must admit."
Sighing, I tried to find a way to sit that didn't make me wish I'd taken the offered prescription for Hydrocodone. "I feel like I got hit by a truck." I muttered, glaring out the window at the dreary streets of Port Angeles.
Dean's hearty laugh echoed in the otherwise-quiet car. "You kind of did, kid... Well, I guess technically you got hit by a tree... actually you did the hitting, if I'm understanding correctly. What did that poor old tree ever do to you, anyway?" He asked teasingly.
I managed to lift my left arm enough to flip him off. "Well it totaled my truck, for starters." I pointed out.
He threw a quick glance in my direction, and then deftly reached over the bench seat into the back. Pulling out an empty popcorn bucket, he shoved it at me. "Just do me a favor; if you're going to hurl, don't get it on the upholstery." He ordered, serious for the first time since he'd sauntered into that damned hospital room.
Not dignifying his request with a response, I ignored him and stared out at the wall of green zooming by while he navigated his way back to Forks.
Instead of taking us back to the—only—local motel, Dean directed his car down the streets of Forks until he pulled into the parking lot of the old library. As far as I was aware, the building was all but abandoned when the city decided to put up enough money to build a brand new one just two years ago.
"What are we, squatters now?" I asked, glancing dubiously at the hunter next to me.
He gave me an exasperated look. "Okay, trouble. I know you're cool with leaving a paper-trail, but that's not how we roll when we're on the DL. So for the time-being, yes, we are squatting."
I held back the rude remark that sprang to mind. "On the DL?" I asked, instead. "What, are you afraid that Daddy Winchester is going to get mad and put you in a time-out if he finds out you're here?"
My words were spoken in jest, but I quickly realized from the look on Dean's face that I'd hit the mark between the horns. "Oh. my. god. You so are." I cried.
"Are not!" He retorted loudly.
"Are too!" I countered, laughing until the pain in my busted ribs brought tears to my eyes.
Before Dean could think of a good come-back, we were both distracted by the sound of a phone ringing. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out my cell. "I forgot, the kind nurses returned this to me for you. And who's Sam Uley? He's called like, a dozen times." He said, waving the mobile device in front of my face.
All of the humor evaporated, taking any warmth in the vehicle with it. "Uh... we need to talk. Where's your brother?" I asked, wondering how I was going to keep all of my new friends safe when I could barely breathe without grimacing.
Clearly noticing the charge in the atmosphere, Dean's calculated gaze shifted between me and the phone still singing in his hand. Nodding sharply, he hit the 'ignore' button and gestured for me to get out.
I followed him silently behind the building and into a back entrance with a padlock that had obviously not been very useful in keeping out trespassers.
The inside of the building was littered with torn books and cardboard boxes that someone must have decided last-minute weren't worth taking in the move. The dying light outside cast eerie shadows that made me more nervous than the Cullen residence or the warm little house in La Push ever had.
Knocking on a door marked 'Employees Only,' Dean led me into a room lit by a solitary lamp in the corner. Confusion momentarily replaced my anxiousness. At least until I saw the small, back-up generator the light-source was plugged into. At least the Winchester boys weren't totally worthless when it came to living off the grid. John must have taught them something after all.
Dean pointed to a worn old wheeled desk chair and I fell into it, trying to ignore the shooting pains that seemed to extend from my side down my left arm and into my fingers at this point. Sam was flipping through a book that he had put aside when we walked in.
His dark eyes were concerned as he assessed the clearly less-than-stellar shape I was in. "You okay, Evie?" He asked. I gave a half-shrug with the shoulder that didn't feel like it was on fire.
"I'll live. I hope." I muttered, wishing the words would sound more like a joke than I could tell they did.
Dean leaned back against a termite-eaten desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "So, Sammy. What did you find while I was chauffeuring?" He asked his brother.
Sam's eyebrows pulled together as he shifted from one foot to the other. "Nothing that makes sense. There aren't signs of werewolves anywhere in the woods around town. No stories that fit with attacks by wolves, either. The town seems pretty ordinary, really."
I rolled my eyes, as it was the only sarcastic gesture I could make without feeling like I was going to pass out. "They aren't werewolves. They're shape-shifters. It's hereditary; and not even dangerous. Usually. They only kill vampires, anyway. They are off-limits. Understand?" I asked, trying to make my voice as commanding as I could in the current circumstances. My heartbeat sped up as fear momentarily dulled the pain in my body. They had to listen to me.
The Winchesters seemed to have a silent conversation as they gave each other a look I couldn't begin to comprehend. I tried to come up with a better argument but panic was making my head fuzzy. The only thing I could really process was that Uncle Daniel would be pretty disappointed in me right about now. I was failing.
Sam finally cleared his throat. "Okay. If you say they're off-limits, they're off-limits. They aren't cursed or anything?" He asked, curiosity in his dark eyes.
I managed a laugh as relief flooded through me. "Well that depends on who you talk to. But technically, no. Their ancestors were spirit warriors. It's a wicked-cool Native American thing. Not evil. Scary, though." I added.
Dean snickered. "Ooooh, something you're afraid of? I like 'em already."
Realizing that my battle was half-won without any real fighting, I giggled. "Wanna know a secret? I kinda like 'em too."
Sam grinned. "You're crazy, you know that?" He asked, pulling a bottle of water out of a backpack and tossing it to me. Catching it with my right hand, I winked.
"So I've been told." I responded, unscrewing the cap and letting the liquid slide down my still-sore throat.
Opening the bag of chips that Sam had chucked at him, Dean seemed to suddenly realize something. "Wait a sec." He said, mouth full of food.
I waited impatiently while he swallowed and set the bag down. "If these not-werewolves are not a problem, why are you still here?"
Groaning, I used my toes to spin the chair I was sitting in around. "It's such a ridiculous story, you probably won't even believe me." I grumbled. Both of the Winchesters looked at me expectantly. I stared resolutely at the cement wall.
Finally Sam spoke, his voice light, but with an undercurrent of something serious. "We've heard some pretty crazy stuff, Evie. And seen things that we'll never be able to un-see. So why don't you just try us."
I wondered where to even start. I remembered, distinctly, how difficult it was for me to accept the idea of good vampires. And I had been under direct orders from my uncle to do so. Just because the Winchesters were handling the wolf situation better than expected didn't mean they were going to jump on the love-the-Cullens bandwagon.
"Okay. You haven't had much experience with vampires, right?" I asked.
"Not before we met you in Colorado. Since then we've run into a few. Nasty pieces of work, aren't they?" Sam replied.
I nodded. "Usually. They are driven by bloodlust, and many of them find a sick sort of pleasure in killing." I explained.
Dean put his hand in the air, as though we were holding class, or an AA meeting, maybe. "Many of them? I thought that was their MO as a whole."
"I thought that too, honestly. It's what I'd been taught... It's what you've been taught... It's what seems to be true from all the experiences hunters have with them as a species." I said.
"So... I thought you were a vampire-huntress extraordinaire. Have you hit a snag here?" Sam asked.
Pinching the bridge of my nose and praying for my headache to dissipate, I gave myself a moment to reply. "...Snag is an understatement. My uncle sent me out here on a very special case. It was kind of like his dying wish. There are vampires here that he didn't want me to kill." I tried to explain.
Dean made a rude noise. Sam gave him a dirty look. "Didn't want you to kill? Why the hell not?" the elder Winchester brother asked.
I knew this was never going to fly. "Because they aren't bad." I snapped.
Both of them looked at me like I'd just grown horns. "I'm sorry, I just hallucinated. I could have sworn you just said vampires aren't bad." Dean said tensely.
If only I had the energy to explain this properly. "No." I replied.
"No, I wasn't hallucinating, or no, you didn't just say that?" He challenged. Sam watched our interaction like a spectator watches a tennis match. A tennis match played with wooden stakes and silver bullets.
"Both." I muttered. "I didn't say that vampires aren't bad. I said these vampires aren't bad." I elaborated. "Uncle Daniel left me a letter to come out here and help a family of vampires. A family of vampires that survive by drinking animal blood instead of human blood because they don't want to be monsters."
Dean took the three steps across the room to the chair I was sitting in. Putting his hands on the arms of the chair, his face was only a foot and a half from mine. "You've lost your mind." He said, his voice low—all traces of humor gone.
I was not the type to back down from a challenge, busted up from a car-wreck or not. "I know it seems that way. I wish I had a better explanation for you, but I don't. Why do you think Sam hasn't found anything supernaturally amiss in Forks? Because there isn't anything supernaturally amiss here. The wolves, the vampires... they have a system in place that allows them to check and balance each other. It works for them." I said, knowing that it sounded crazier than all get-out. Hunters don't just let monsters babysit each other. I'd been a part of the hunting community long enough to know that.
"Works for them, maybe. But for all the innocent people out there? What happens when unsuspecting folks that are living just down the street from havoc-wreaking horrors get caught in the cross-fire?" He asked sharply.
"They won't." I snapped. "The wolves protect their tribe, the vampires protect the town from their sadistic counterparts. Forks is safer with them here than it would be without them. Other vampires don't hunt here knowing the territory is claimed. What do you want me to do, take out all of the insurance this place has and then just wait around and see if the real terrors don't descend? We're supposed to do what's right for humanity, aren't we? How is destroying a line of defense for the humans here the best option?" I asked loudly, my voice cracking as my throat burned harshly enough to cause spots to form in my vision.
Dean was clearly about to offer a rebuttal when Sam stopped him. "Dean, shut up a second. Evie, are you alright?" He asked, and I couldn't quite remember when he had moved from the far side of the room to stand next to his brother.
The room seemed to swim. I tried to tenaciously hold onto my consciousness, but I'd pushed my abused body too far.
Darkness pulled me under once more, and knowing that I'd not convinced my new partners of anything at all except my certifiability, I wondered vaguely what kind of chaos I would wake to next.