Chapter 2

Dean stopped the Chevy by the entrance of the national park. He and John took a gun each, the basic equipment, and took off, side by side. The forest was dark, the trees near to each other, making it hard to walk out of the tracks that were already there.

"So, which one is the track that leads to the lake?"

"Well… this way."

John pointed to an empty side of the entrance. There was no one there, while in one or two that went directly the other way, there were a few youngs with trekking equipment, night lights and so on. It seemed to be a popular sport around. He wasn't sure, though, if it was wise to go into this place at night after what was happening. Whatever it was on the lake maybe could come out and haunt someplace else.

They were walking through the woods for about 15 minutes, when they heard a woman screaming and crying. The trees made the sound difficult to locate.

"I'll go this way. Dean, go on this way, all right?"

They took off on a run, each in his direction. Dean was hearing it become louder, but he couldn't find a clear spot on the woods, he couldn't see a thing. Suddenly, he saw it; the lake, a clear shore and what looked pretty much just a man to him, ripping a woman's clothes.

He took the gun and let it ready. His father approached from another spot. They exchanged looks - they were doing this together for long enough, no need to speak to understand each other.

As they decided to run over, something fast and blurry flew into the man's side; whatever it was rolled with him away from the woman, blood spilling everywhere. Without thinking, Dean aimed his gun at the creature and shot, one, two, three times. The creature stood up, blooding, facing him. He approached, gun up, and suddenly felt this evil wave of energy that made the hair on his nape stand, but something wasn't right.

It took a step back, in what seemed like a predator position, ready to attack. Dean never really thought of what he was seeing, he didn't know how many bullets had hit it, he just shot again, and again.

"DEAN, STOP! STOP!"

His father was helping the woman up, offering her his jacket, a desperate look in his eyes that were focused on the now laying thing.

Dean put his gun down, confused.

"This is not what we were looking for, son." – His voice was strained. He turned to the attacked woman – "You ok? I trust you won't say about what just happened here to anyone. That would be a great way to thank for your life."

The woman nodded, not really knowing what went on, not wanting to know. She just wanted to leave that mess, to never come back.

"What the fuck do you mean…?"

He went over to the bodies. The man was killed, his heart pulled out from his very chest, nail marks all over. Not far, was this blooded… woman.

"Dad…"

They went to the body of the woman shot. It was a woman. A tall, but delicate, white, blond woman. Dean felt the air on his lungs disappear. Had he just killed a woman? But it couldn't be, he was certain that she attacked the man. That blood, the heart pulled out, literary, that wasn't something a woman could do.

John reached out and turned her. She had her eyes closed, and he could see two bullet holes on her chest, another one in one shoulder and the last one in her thigh. No wonder there was blood all over, his son had a hell of an aim.

"Dad, I don't understand… come on… this was a fucking demon or something!"

"I know, I saw exactly what you saw."

"So what the hell did you mean by stop, this isn't what we are looking for?"

"I meant that the wave of energy I'm sure you felt too came from that cave, not this woman."

"Ok now, stop talking about this as a woman!"

"Dean… son, you did the right thing. But I can deny that she is very much in a woman's form. Do you have a rope or something? "

"Yes. Why?"

"Let's take her to the motel. I can't sense anything evil about her. It was a mistake, we gotta help."

Dean and his father were now in the motel room, looking at the unconscious and blooded tied up woman lying on one of the beds.

"Now what? What do you think she is?"

"I'm not that sure, but we need to take the bullets out, whatever she is."

"You know, I can hear you both, calling me a thing is not kind."

Dean jumped back, reaching for his gun. He got it aimed and ready.

"Great, now we discover that besides immortal it has a freaking sense of humor!"

She opened her eyes, blinking with the light. Two yellow cat-like eyes.

"Oh, come on, don't shoot again. It fucking hurts!"

Dean kept his gun up, his finger tight on the trigger.

"Dad, I don't know what to do. Maybe shooting the head will kill it?"

"Will you really shot me again? I'm tied up, almost swimming on a lake of my own blood, I mean no harm, and you still want to shoot me right through my head?"

"What do you mean by no harm? I've got a heart just like the one you ripped out of that man's body!"

She sat up, pressing one of the wounds with her elbow, in clear pain.

"I had a freaking reason to kill that man. Other then you trying to kill me, I've got no reason to kill you. So, stop trying to kill me, and I'll have no reason to kill you both."

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but John stopped him.

"This is a good agreement. This is my son Dean, I'm John. Now, what are you, and why did you kill that man?"

Dean's chin dropped, but he recovered soon. If his father wanted to make an agreement and have a chat with this fucking yellow-eyed thing, so be it. He sat, as his father had.

"Would you untie me please? I need to take these bullets out first. Do you have a mirror?"

John approached slowly, and untied her.

"You seem too calm for someone who was hit four times by my son. How come?"

Dean realized that something was going on there, that his father knew something he didn't, and decided to relax and watch the show. The freak woman didn't look like dying or attacking anyway, which made him a bit calmer.

"I know you weren't looking for me, that these weren't directed at me."

"Mind reader?"

"Intention's reader"

"Intentions?"

"Yes. I was really distracted, though, hunting that man, to sense you two nearby. My fault. But after the first shots, I got it together. Actually I wanted to knock the sense out of your son, just to make him stop, but the bullets made me slow. How long was I unconscious? What did you have on these bullets anyway?

"Let's take her to a hospital or something, this is gross, she is trying to take the bullets out with her bare hands as we speak!"

"Dean, right? You may be handsome but certainly not that clever. Do you think I can go into a hospital? I'm not really human, you know. I just need to take the freaking bullets out, and the wounds will be gone in a couple of hours."

John took a towel from the other bed.

"The bullets were blessed by a priest. That's probably what made them so efficient against you… There's the bathroom, you can take them out and take a shower."

"I've got no clothes."

"No problem, we will arrange something."

"Thanks."

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