"So get this."
Alex rolled her eyes, glancing over at the hunter. "Hm?"
Sam turned his laptop so she could see. "Remember those cattle mutilations in the news last week?"
"Yeah. Uh, down in Texas, right?" Dean walked out of the bathroom, hair still damp from the shower he had just taken. He strolled across room to them, grabbing a shirt on the way. Alex ran an eye over his muscular torso before turning back to Sam.
"Right. We didn't think much of it-"
"-because it's typical alien signs," Alex finished. "And aliens aren't real."
"Exactly. But check it out." Sam spun his laptop towards Dean. "Richard Parker. Found last night torn to shreds."
"Sounds like our kind of thing." Dean scrolled through the article. "Outside of Baytown. That's a what? Five hour drive?"
Sam agreed, and Alex groaned. "So we're leaving? Now?"
"Next five minutes or so. Get packed." Dean pulled on his shirt.
Alex rolled her eyes and rolled out of bed. She misjudged the amount of bed she had left, however, and fell flat on the floor. Sam laughed. "Shut up," Alex grumbled. She threw her clothes into her bag before rolling up a shirt she had left in the bathroom.
She grabbed her Colt 1911 from under her pillow before checking to make sure her necklace was on. Sam and Dean were already ready to go. "Let's roll." Alex slung her bag over her shoulder and followed them out.
...
They arrived in Baytown, Texas, around 11 o'clock. Sam and Alex donned on their FBI outfits and headed out to Stinson's Ranch. They dropped Dean off at the Baytown Police Station.
Sam drove the Impala down the long driveway and parked it in front of the ranch style house. They knocked on the door. An old man answered. "What'd you want?"
"Agent Ford and Rollins. FBI." Sam flashed his badge, and Alex did the same, straightening her back to seem taller. "Are you Mr. Stinson?"
"Maybe." However, the man stepped out on to the porch. "What's the matter?"
"Mr. Stinson, you are the one who's been reporting the cattle mutilations, correct?"
"Me and a couple other farmers. Why?"
"We were wondering if we could examine one of your more recent mutilations."
Mr. Stinson narrowed his eyes. "Since when's the FBI been interested in cattle deaths?"
"Since it may be linked to the murder of Richard Parker," Sam replied shortly. "It may be able to give us insight into what killed him."
"Twas aliens," the old muttered, but led them out into the fields behind his house. "There's one that happened last night." He pointed towards under a tree.
Alex and Sam followed his finger. They wrinkled their noses at the sight. Flies buzzed around a large carcass. "Go get 'em, tiger." Sam nudged her towards the dead carcass.
Alex picked up a stick and approached. The chest had been violently torn open. "This seems a little bloody to be aliens," she remarked. "The entire chest cavity's been ripped apart."
Mr. Stinson nodded. "Local cops said it was a coyote or something. Others say chupacabra. But it's aliens, through an' through."
Alex poked at the gaping wound. "And did the police say if anything was missing?"
"They didn't take too good a look."
Alex poked through the organs, taking a mental stock. She paused. Something was missing. She looked up at Sam, who looked back. Alex stood up, discarding the stick. "I think we've got everything we need, sir. Thank you for your time." She started to walk away.
Sam hurried to catch up. "What did you find?" he asked, glancing back to where Mr. Stinson was staring at his cow, shaking his head.
"Back at Bobby's, I helped slaughter cows," Alex began. "So I'm pretty familiar with their anatomy." She wiped her hands on her dress pants. "Almost everything was there. The cow's heart was missing."
...
Back at the motel, Dean was sitting at the table, waiting for them. His suit coat was on the bed, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He ran a hand through his brown hair when they walked through the door. "I think I know what we're dealing with," he told them.
"Werewolf?" both Sam and Alex guessed at the same time.
Dean frowned. "Yeah. How'd you . .."
"The cow was missing its heart," Alex explained. She grabbed a beer out of the already stocked fridge. "Smelled like hell."
"You have no idea what Hell smells like," Dean muttered.
"I've got a pretty good idea." Alex sat down on the bed. "So. Any possible suspects? Leads on the victim?"
"Nope. Carver was found on a jogging trail miles from any house. A couple of bikers found him yesterday morning. Chest ripped open, heart missing."
"So what? A werewolf's been snacking on long pig and beef?" Alex cracked open her beer. "That's unusual."
"But not impossible," Sam added. "Remember those vamps a couple years back?"
"Yeah. They fed on cow's blood or something." Dean nodded.
"Maybe this werewolf's the same way. Maybe he just slipped up."
Dean grunted. "He's still a monster, Sammy. We've got to kill him."
"I know, but-"
"But what? We should sit around and wait for him to kill again?"
Sam shook his head, unsure.
"Okay. Where do we start?" Alex stood up, grabbing her bag she had dropped on the floor. Without waiting for an answer, she entered the bathroom and changed.
Dean and Sam were deep in conversation when she returned. Sam looked up at her, frustrated. Alex met his gaze. "What?"
"Nothing."
"Uh, okay. So how do we start to find this guy?"
"We investigate." Dean stood up. "You're with me. Sammy, talk to those bikers. Uh, Sarah and James Anniston."
Sam pulled out his laptop. "Okay. I'll check it out in a few minutes."
"You need a ride?" Dean grabbed his jacket, heading towards the door. Sam shook his head.
"Dean, I just changed." Alex looked down at her jeans and shirt. Which wasn't actually her shirt. It was Deans, and several sizes to big.
"Whatever. Come on." They left.
...
"Okay." Dean pulled the car up alongside a house. "Alice Parker, Richie's wife. Has a solid alibi; she was at her neighbor's with a couple friends." They got out, and Alex put her FBI ID into her jacket pocket.
"Oh yeah. Agent Rollins, by the way."
Dean nodded and knocked on the door. A young woman answered. "Hello?"
"Yes. Agents Jones and Rollins." They flashed their FBI badges. "We're investigating the death of your husband?"
"Uh, yes, yes come in." Mrs. Parker ushered them inside. "The police said it was a wild animal. Why are the FBI here?"
"Just precaution," Dean promised.
Mrs. Parker studied Alex. "She's with you?"
"Agent Rollins." Alex showed her FBI badge again, slightly impatient. Why did everyone always question her?
"You're dressed very casual for FBI," the wife noted casually.
"I wasn't suppose to be on duty today," Alex explained. "But Frank's partner got sick. Food poisoning. I was just called in without time to change into something more, formal."
"Hm." Mrs. Parker led them into the living room. "Please. Have a seat."
They did. "Mrs. Parker," Dean began. "I am sorry for your loss."
"I just don't understand." Mrs. Parker wiped a tear from her eye. "Rich had been walking along that trail every day for the past four months. And there hasn't been any dangerous animals around for as long as I can remember. How could something like this happen?" Her voice shook.
"Yes, well," Dean glanced at Alex. "We, uh, just have a few questions. Is there, uh, anyone who held any sort of grudge against your husband?"
"No." Mrs. Parker looked confused. "The police said this was an animal attack."
"We just need to cover every angle," Dean promised. "Has anything around here been, unusual? Any changes in behaviors of anyone in particular?"
The woman narrowed her eyes. "No, no. Nothing that I noticed. Although Ian has been unusually closed off recently."
"Ian?" Dean glanced at Alex. Alex shrugged. She'd never heard of Ian.
"The man at the end of the street. He use to be very friendly, but the past few months he barely comes out of his house. But I'm sure he has nothing to do with this."
"Of course. But, has, uh, Ian had any other strange changes in behavior?"
Mrs. Parker shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know. I haven't talked to him in several months. No one has. He just shuts himself in his house."
Dean nodded. "Thank you. If we have anymore questions, we'll call."
"Yes, yes. Okay." Mrs. Parker showed them out. "Have a good day."
"You too." Dean and Alex hurried back down to the Impala.
"So, is this Ian a lead?" Alex dared to ask.
"Well, it's the only lead we got. Let's see if Sam found anything." He pulled out his phone. It rang, and Sam answered. "Hey Sam." Pause. "Yeah, we talked to her. She said that, uh, her neighbor, Ian Kelly, has been acting strange." A longer pause. "Okay. Ten-four."
...
They were back at the motel within ten minutes. Sam was their waiting. "What'd you learn?" he asked as they walked through the door.
"One of their neighbors has been acting weird," Dean explained. "He's shut himself in his house. What'd you find?"
"Well, no real lead with the bikers. Their story checks out. But, ah, I did some digging on Ian after you called. Uh, about four months ago, he quit his job. He's been working from home ever since. Apart from that, no criminal records, no nothing."
"Pretty vanilla." Dean sat down on one of the beds. "Okay. So, maybe we should talk to him."
Sam shrugged. "Sounds like the best plan so far."
...
Sam and Dean left a few minutes later. Alex stayed at the motel. She flopped down on the bed, reaching for the remote. "I'm bored," she whined aloud after discovering that nothing was on. She reluctantly got up and retrieved Dean's laptop.
...
The door flew open, and Alex jumped, spinning around to see what it was. Sam stalked into the room, face twisted into a frown. Dean followed.
"Uh, how'd it go?" Alex tossed her gun back onto the bed. "You okay?"
"We're fine." Dean pawed through his bag. "Pretty sure it's him. We'll find out tonight?"
"Tonight?"
...
Alex crept up the stairs, silver knife in hand. Sam and Dean were still checking downstairs. She hurried down the hallway, checking every door. One was closed. It swung open with a single touch. Alex's blood ran cold. Inside was Ian, blood dripping down his chin. A mutilated corpse lay behind him. He let out an inhuman snarl, launching himself at her. Alex swung the silver knife, cutting through his flesh. He screeched, backing away. Footsteps hurried up the stairs, and Alex's attention swiveled. That single moment of distraction was all the werewolf needed. It tackled Alex to the ground. Alex hit the wooden floor, knocking the wind out of her. The silver knife landed beside her. She reached for it, and let out a scream. Pain sliced through her as claws ripped at her side. Another pair of claws ran down her left thigh, digging in deep. Then the weight on her was gone. Another bloodcurdling scream, and then silence.
"Alex?" Dean knelt beside her. "Sam!" He put his hand over her side. Alex did the same, pulling back to see it was covered in blood. She let out a wet cough, sitting up. "Woah, woah woah." Dean held her down. "Stay still. Sam! Hurry up!"
"What's wrong?" Sam knelt down as well. He peeled back her shirt and grimaced. "That's gonna need stitches. Lots of them."
Alex whimpered as Sam pressed something against her side.
"It's okay, it's okay, girl," Dean promised. "You'll be fine. Just a little scratch."
As Alex calmed down, she mentally cursed herself for being such a wimp. It couldn't be that bad, could it? "I'm fine," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Are we done here, 'cause I'm about ready to leave." She tried to pull herself to her feet.
Sam held her down. "Don't move. You're only making it bleed more."
For the first time, Alex looked. Then she closed her eyes. A huge gash in her left side trailed down from her ribs, curling to her hips. Her jeans were torn and bloodied, with another large gash stretching past her knee. Blood flowed freely. Dean immediately put his hand over her side. "You're going to have to hold your guts in until we get to the motel." Dean tried to make it a joke, but Alex just groaned. The next thing she knew Dean was holding her in her arms, carrying her down the stairs. He put her in the backseat before getting into the driver's side. Sam got in next to her, applying pressure to her wound, and they drove away.
...
They were back at the motel within ten minutes. Dean helped her inside, laying her on the bed. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom to absorb the blood. Sam hurried in as well. He sat down next to her. "Take off your shirt," he commanded her. Alex did as he said before laying back down on her right side. She let out a cry of pain as something was poured over her. It stung like hell. "This'll stop any infection."
Dean sat down next to her. "Ah. Looking better already," he promised.
"Shut up." Alex hissed as something poked her skin. "Ouch! Watch it!"
"You're such a wimp." Sam rolled his eyes.
"Shut up."
...
Alex laid there as Sam slowly but surely stitched her up, teeth clenched in pain. Dean took her hand, watching his brother. "That's a nasty one," he remarked casually.
"Thanks," Alex hissed out.
"Don't move," Sam scolded. "There." He finally finished. "Looks like you'll live."
"Don't sound so disappointed," Alex huffed, rolling onto her back. She ran her fingers over the stitches. "What is this?"
"Fishing line."
"Ah."
"Just stay still. You lost a lot of blood." Sam tossed her a bottle of whiskey. "Don't drink too much," he warned. "Those stitches won't do you any good if you start vomiting."
"Hm." Alex propped her head up on a pillow. "Wonderful." Then she flicked on the tv.
Sam walked to the front of the motel room, motioning Dean to follow. He did. "What are we going to do with her?" he asked quietly.
"What'd you mean?"
"You know what I mean," Sam whispered angrily. "She's hurt, Dean. Bad. It's gonna take her a while to recover. We don't have the time to wait for her."
"Oh, so what do you think we should do with her? Just leave her?" Dean's voice rose angrily.
Alex listened intently to their conversation, heart beating. She wasn't hurt that bad, was she?
"I'm just saying . . . maybe we should leave her at Bobby's. He can take care of her while she recovers."
"And when she's better?" When Sam said nothing, Dean continued. "You just want to get rid of her, don't you?"
"That's not . . ." Sam paused. "I mean, it was better when it was just the two of us, you know? We didn't have to worry about her-"
"She's not just a dead weight, Sam," Dean snapped. "She knows what's going on. We have to protect her, okay? There are people out there who would love to get their hands on her. Like Zachariah? Hm?"
Sam just shook his head.
"Fine," Dean relented. "We'll drop her off at Bobby's. That's a good idea. But we're not abandoning her, you understand?"
...
She was back at Bobby's within a few days. When she stepped through the front door, Dean behind her, Bobby came barreling into the room. "The hell did you do to her?" he snapped.
"I'm fine," Alex insisted. She limped further into the house, the stitches on her leg tugging uncomfortably on her skin.
"Werewolf," Dean explained. "It's a nasty cut, but she'll live." He nudged Alex towards the kitchen. "Go sit down."
"I'm fine, Dean," Alex repeated. However, her legs were shaking slightly, and she did as he asked.
"You boys have to be careful with her!" Bobby seemed very much ticked off.
"It was an accident." Alex heard a thump as Sam dropped her bag on the ground. She sat on the couch, looking around. Open books lay everywhere, and Alex sighed at the mess.
"We should go," Dean said. "There's a possible case over in Sacramento."
Alex heard them leave. She stood up and walked over to the fridge, pulling out a coke. "Hey, Bobby. How you doing?"
"Fine." Bobby glanced at her. "What happened?"
Alex shrugged. "I got the wrong end of a werewolf."
"Bad?"
"Tis but a scratch," she joked. Seeing Bobby's reaction, she sighed, lifting the side of her shirt to show off Sam's patchwork. "Before you say anything, it's fine. It's just a flesh wound." He put her shirt back down. "Also got my leg torn up, but I'll live. Did I miss anything?"
"No." Bobby walked into the study. "But, uh, don't go into the closet under the stairs. I haven't finished stabilizing the floor."
Alex frowned. The hell was he talking about? She walked over to the closet door, tugging it open. "Bobby." She shook her head in disbelief and amazement. "When are we ever going to need a trap door?"
"I got bored," Bobby called back. "Like I said. Stay back."
"Yeah." Alex looked down through the trap doors that were hanging open, letting her see into the basement below. "Damn."
...
Okay, so don't worry, this is the last original case for a while :)