The first chapter where you get to (properly) meet Raelynn and read about her first interactions with the Winchesters. (FYI there is a little bit of swearing in it.) I hope you enjoy the chapter.
(Side note: If you would prefer shorter chapters, let me know. I can split each episode into two. That way I can also upload more regularly).
Happy reading!
1. Hook Man
This was worse than Hell. Not that I'd been personally, but right now, I could imagine it. I was sat towards the back of a church in Ankey, Iowa. That wasn't the issue. It was the clothes. The bubble-gum pink shirt with a mint green cardigan over it. It was the grey skirt floating below my knees and the too-bright sneakers—thanks Target—that was giving me the sweats. This was not who I was: give me a pair of jeans and boots any day of the week and I'd be happy. At this moment, I looked like a damn preacher's daughter. I was far from a preacher's daughter.
A mutilated body had been found on 9 Mile Road. Not so out of the ordinary. But the only witness said the attacker was invisible. Hello weird. And hello next case. There was a never-ending supply of 'next cases' when you were a hunter. Always on the move. Never knowing where the next take would take you. But I couldn't lie, it was part of the charm.
"Our hearts go out to the family of a young man who perished. And my personal prayers of thanks go out as well because I believe he died trying to protect my daughter." Reverend Sorenson was giving a sermon at his church, St Barnabas. It was his daughter who'd witnessed the attack. Hence the outfit. If I was going to talk to them, and I would, I figured it was best to look like part of the in-crowd.
"And now, as time heals all our wounds, we should reflect on what this tragedy means. To us, as a church."
As the reverend spoke, a door slammed. I turned to see two guys enter. One was taller than the other. Not to say the other one was short; the other one was simply gigantically tall. They both looked around my age. Both fairly good looking. Both clearly hunters.
"…as a community," Reverend Sorenson continued, "and as a family. The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passings."
The two guys took a seat on the other side of the aisle. I glanced at them from the corner of my eye, peeking through the wisps of blonde hair that had fallen out from the clip at the back of my head. The ramblings of the reverend turned to white noise. I could spot a fellow hunter a mile away. I'd learned to become pretty good at spotting—and staying away from—them. The shorter one caught my eye and gave me a smile. I spun back towards the front, like a good little meek girl would. When others around me bowed their heads, I followed suit.
When the service was over, I left as quickly as possible, wanting to avoid the two men. As the other churchgoers piled out behind me, I kept my eye out for Lori. She finally emerged with her friend, Taylor. Her classmates said they were close friends and they shared a room together. As they both pulled away from a hug and Taylor wandered off, I made my move.
I cleared my throat. Sweet, innocent, religious girl at the ready. Not my most favourite part to play, but you had to do what you had to do. "Hi, Lori?"
"Yes? Sorry, do I know you?"
"No, I'm from a couple towns over, I was just town visiting my grandma when I heard about the terrible news. I just wanted to share my condolences."
She gave me a small smile but looked like she wanted to be anywhere else. Her wandering eyes made it seem she was looking for a swift exit.
"Sorry, where are my manners? I'm Eve." Damn, could I not have picked a more biblical name? A little on the nose there, Rae. I shook off my inner ramblings and held my hand out.
Lori placed her hand in mine. Her grip was as fragile as she looked. "It's nice to meet you."
"Likewise. Say, I run a group out of the church back home. I'm a counsellor of sorts, you know, listening to other people's worries and troubles. It's the best remedy, to talk. So I'm all ears if you want to discuss what happened."
Lori's eyes glinted and a genuine smile graced her face. "That's what my father keeps telling me. But it's difficult with him." The glint vanished. "Maybe it would be nice to talk to someone I don't really know." She sighed. "It was all so strange and scary. I don't want you thinking—"
"Sorry to interrupt but are you Lori?"
Damn it.
The two hunters appeared from behind me.
"Yeah," Lori replied.
"My name is Sam." The taller one gestured to himself, then his friend. "This is my brother Dean."
Dean. Sam. Brothers. Why did that ring a bell?
"Hi." It hadn't taken any small talk from the guys to have Lori's eyes light up. It only took some floppy hair and puppy eyes to grab her attention.
"Can we maybe talk to you in private?" Sam asked as he looked from her to me and back again.
Hell no. This was my gig. I'd gotten to her first. No way this was going to slip from my fingers because of some two-bit hunters that looked as if they'd be more at home on a catwalk. "Actually we—"
"Sure," Lori replied.
Goddamnit!
The three of them looked at me expectantly. Well, Dean was looking at me more like he wanted to take a bite. I knew his type well enough. I bit my tongue and nodded. "Sure. Of course." I looked to Lori. "I'll catch up with you later."
I smiled as sweet as I could to all three before begrudgingly walking away. Now what? The only witness was now in the hands of Bevis and Butt-head. Maybe I was being harsh, but their presence pissed me off.
Down the street, Taylor was getting into her car. She may have been the only hope I had of getting some sort of info. After checking to see Dean and Sam were still with Lori, I sprinted to catch up with her. I reached the car just as she closed the door.
I tapped on the window, once again emitting a gentle smile.
Taylor rolled down the window. "Yeah?"
From what I'd heard, while Taylor and Lori were friends, they were polar opposite personalities. Lori valued her religion, always wanting to do the right thing. Taylor, on the other hand, was the party girl. She wasn't much one for church and had probably only turned up today as moral support. That meant I could be a little more honest with her. 'Honest' was likely the wrong word but I could venture a little closer to the truth—that always helped to keep the characters straight and significantly lessened the chances of me fucking up.
"Hi, I'm Stevie. I'm a private investigator and wondered if I can have a chat with you about what happened to Rich."
She scanned me, eyes running from the top of my head down to my sparkling sneakers. "You don't look like a PI."
No shit. I laughed. "You'll have to forgive my outfit. I was trying to blend in with the crowd." I nodded my head in the direction of the crowds still lingering outside the church before leaning in closer to her. "To tell you the truth, all this Lord stuff gives me hives."
Taylor laughed back. "I get that. Still, I don't know if I should be talking to you."
It was never that easy. "Look, I'm working this on behalf of me, myself, and I. There's no one else involved. Something weird as hell went down. I'm just trying to find the sicko that did this. I'm happy to pay you for information. And of course, if anything you tell me helps me lead the cops to what happened, I'm happy to give you all the shining glory."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"Ok. Well I don't know much…"
"Let's take this somewhere quieter." It looked like Dean and Sam were wrapping up their conversation with Lori and her father. What story had they spun to the good ol' reverend about who they were. "How about we get some coffee?"
Coffee had been interesting. Taylor had told me that Lori had been in the car with Rich, who was getting a little too frisky for her liking.
"She should have just gone for it," Taylor had said to me.
They'd heard some weird scratching sounds. Rich had gone out to investigate. Next thing, something sharp started slicing up the car, popping tyres and smashing glass. The next time Lori sees Rich… he's strung up, upside down over the car and covered in blood. She never saw the person who did it.
Yeah it was strange. Phantom scratches. Invisible killer. A body suspended upside down.
It sounded like the legend of the Hook Man. I'd dealt with stranger shit than this, so it didn't sound too crazy that I could have a real-life legend on my hands. Whether that was the case or not, I needed to dig a little deeper.
The library was abuzz (well, as much as a library could be buzzing) with people, mostly students. I walked up to the front desk and greeted the woman sat behind it. "Hi. I'm from the University. I'm doing a study on local criminal history. I was wondering if I could see the copy of arrest records, going back a couple hundred years, say… 1851?"
"Oh, well, that's a coincidence. The gentlemen over there have the exact thing you're looking for. I suppose you're from the same class."
I turned to the table where she was pointing.
.IT! Everywhere I turned!
The hunter brothers were sat at the table, noses deep in the files I needed. First my witness and now this!
Dean's head lifted and his gaze ventured my way. He did a comical double take before he sent what I'm sure was supposed to be a flirtatious smile my way.
I couldn't stop the eye roll. Really, I tried. I pushed away from the desk and stormed out. I needed information and fast; I needed it before someone else got hurt. Normally my go-to would be a computer, but a lot of the times, you couldn't find the old records online. But I had to give it a try.
But before I went any further, I had to change. These clothes were suffocating me. Oh they fit just fine but I could only give off "innocent, virgin, church-goer" vibes for a short period of time before I lost my mind. Goodbye skirt and cardigan, hello jeans and t-shirt.
After stopping off at the motel, I spent a few hours trolling through various websites at some weird-ass place you could do your laundry and surf the net at the same time. Small towns. I stopped asking questions about them a long time ago. Yet all the searching and copious amounts of coffee amounted to nothing. I was back to square one. And square one meant the scene of the crime. I needed to get back to 9 Mile Road.
The sun had long since set by the time I got to where the murder had taken place. The buzz of insects and a slight chill to the air were my only companions. Just the way I liked it. As I wondered around the area, I couldn't see any obvious clues. There were footprints all over the scene, but that could have been down to the police and other first responders. There was nothing there. It had to be some sort of spirit, surely?
As I turned to head back, two beams of light filtered through the trees, a booming engine resonating out. I ducked into the trees. My hand went to the small of my back and I pulled out the handgun I always kept there.
The car stopped just a few feet in front of me. I choked back a sigh when my two newfound stalkers emerged from it.
"Here you go." Dean handed a rifle over to Sam.
"If it is a spirit, buckshot won't do much good." So we'd all reached the same conclusion. Go team!
"Yeah, rocksalt." From what I could make out in the sparse light, Dean handed over a pile of bullets to Sam.
"Huh. Salt being a spirit deterrent." From the way Sam was talking, it didn't seem like he'd had as much experience hunting, unlike his brother. What was their story? Something about their names was still tugging at a buried memory.
"It won't kill 'em, but it'll slow 'em down," Dean said.
"That's pretty good. You and Dad think of this?"
"I told you. You don't have to be a college graduate to be a genius."
Really? Surely Dean didn't actually think other hunters hadn't thought of that? Was he that much out of the loop? Right now, I had my own rocksalt stashed in the chambers of my shotgun… the shotgun I'd stupidly left in my car. I really hated when I made mistakes. Especially stupid ones. I groaned. Then slapped my hand over my mouth. Stupid mistake number two.
The boys stopped short a little down the dirt path. "Did you hear that?"
Crap. Game over. They'd find me eventually; I was better off making the first move. With the lightest steps I could take, I stepped out from my hiding spot. The two of them were facing away from me. Sure I could have turned and tried running without them noticing, but I wasn't that lucky. Ever. I crept closer and closer, almost within arm's reach before I opened my mouth to speak. "Hey—"
Dean whipped around, gun raised. I reacted; I reacted as any hunter would. I grabbed hold of the gun, jerking it away from him. My other hand formed a fist and lashed out, making solid contact with his cheek. Before I could blink, Dean recovered and tackled me to the floor. Arms and legs flailed as we rolled one over the other before Dean managed to pin me down on my back, hand on my throat. He pulled a knife from his boot and raised it in the air.
He froze as he finally took a proper look at me. "You're not Hook Man."
"Ya think? What gave it away? The two hands?" I managed to wheeze out. "Want to know a secret?" Dean's hand on my throat eased slightly, giving me a chance to lean up to whisper to him. "I've got two feet too."
I twisted my legs around Dean and shifted our weight—I may have landed a punch to his side while I was at it—until our roles were reversed.
"Son of a bitch!" he cried out.
A triumphant smile sprung across my mouth. Then I heard the unmistakable cock of a gun by my ear.
"Get off him." Sam calmly but firmly held the gun on me as I raised my hands and—begrudgingly—got up and stepped away from Dean.
"Oh thanks, Sam. Now you decide to help," Dean said as he brushed the dirt of him.
"I thought you'd be able to hold your own against a girl."
Dean responded with a withering stare.
Sam lowered the gun slightly, before giving me a closer inspection. "Aren't you the girl from the church?"
"There's no way. This must be her evil twin." Dean put a hand to his cheek with a wince he couldn't hide.
"Evil because I defended myself when you pointed a gun at me? Oh lock me up and throw away the key."
"What are you doing out here?" Sam asked.
"Did the ass kicking I gave your brother—"
"Hey! You did not kick my—"
"not give you a hint?" I finished, ignoring Dean's outburst.
"You're a hunter?" Sam couldn't have looked more shocked if he tried. His eyes widened; his jaw slackened.
"We got there finally. Gold star."
Dean scoffed. "You expect me to believe that you, short stack, are a hunter? Maybe you hunt unicorns and Care Bears at a push."
"I'm sorry, did I give you a concussion? Because you also seem to have forgotten the ass-kicking. Need a reminder?" I raised an eyebrow, daring him to take a swing.
"Cute."
I knew the smile I now wore was sickly sweet. "Oh you have no idea."
Sam raised his palms, stepping closer between me and Dean. "Let's settle down, kids. Why not pool our resources and—"
Dean shook his head. "Sammy, please tell me you're not about to say what I think you are."
"I'm just saying three heads are better than two."
"Work with you?" It was my turn to scoff. "That's not happening. I think you'll find that I was on this case first. So, please gentlemen," I bowed and held my hands out, signalling the way they came, "be on your merry way."
"Listen, little lady—" Dean started.
I ignored him once more. "I was in town first—"
"Stop talkin' over me!"
"and I would have spoken to Lori first, if you hadn't paraded lover boy around." My headed nodded towards Sam who looked a mix between hurt and confused. "I don't play well with others. I don't need company. I don't need help. So it would save all of us a lot of trouble if you left. I promise to call you if I need you."
"You don't have our numbers," Sam said.
I shrugged, palms raised in a 'what can you do?' sort of gesture. "Caught me."
"We can help each other," Sam continued.
I saw the shadow a split second before the guys did. I darted back into the trees, as they turned towards a noise coming from the left, before they knew what hit them.
"Put the gun down now! Now! Puts your hands behind your head." A sheriff emerged from the trees, gun raised.
Dean was looking around, his head whipping to and fro, probably trying to figure out where I'd disappeared to.
"W-w-wait, okay, okay!" Dean said.
"Now get on your knees. Come on, do it!"
They both lowered to the ground, Dean arguing as he went. It truly was a sight to behold. But I had to get out of there before they found me or my truck.
Sorry boys, you're on your own.
With nowhere to really turn, the next morning I decided to try talking to Lori again. With Dean and Sam in jail, I had the run of the town. If nothing came from my chat with Lori, I'd head back to the library, see if they'd missed anything in their searches. I knew my day wasn't going to be as simple as that when I pulled up to Lori's place and there were police and an ambulance parked out front. I parked a little way down the street and headed back. Lori was sitting on the edge of the step at the back of the ambulance. She didn't look hurt, only shaken, thankfully. But someone had been hurt; they were rolling a body bag out of the house. Shit. I was too late.
There was no way I was going to be able to speak to Lori, not with the circus surrounding her. I needed to get into the house.
I walked around the back, dodging the police as I went. There was no sure-fire way of getting in the back door; I had to go up. There was a tree next to the house whose branches reached out over the balcony outside what I'm assuming was someone's bedroom. The climb was no problem for me. I'd spent the majority of my childhood climbing stuff—there hadn't been much else to do.
When I got to the window, I edged it up and climbed in carefully. I was in a closet but just beyond the open door, I saw it. I'd walked into the crime scene. There was blood pooled on one of the beds, still dripping onto the floor. The other best must have belonged to Lori. That meant… Taylor.
I closed my eyes, biting my lip against the surge of anger. Anger at myself. Anger at the killer. I could cope with getting into a case once people had already died. As heartless as that sounded, it didn't feel quite as personal as when people you'd seen, people you'd spoken to wound up dead on your watch.
After a couple of breaths, I opened my eyes again to read the message that had been painted in Taylor's blood on the wall. 'Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light?' It was Hook Man alright. Unless someone was pulling an almighty prank. Highly unlikely, though—it was hard to fake being invisible. There was a symbol at the bottom of the message. It looked like a cross. It's not something I'd seen before.
There was a thump behind me. Wasting no time, I slid under Lori's bed.
"Be quiet."
"You be quiet!"
"You be quiet!"
I rolled my eyes once I recognised the voices. How the hell had they gotten outta jail so quick? I'd never claim to know these boys well, but I'd bet all my money that it had been Dean's sweet talking that got them out.
I saw their feet coming closer. They stopped in front of the bed I was under.
"'Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light?' That's right out of the legend." That was Sam.
"Yeah, that's classic Hook Man all right. It's definitely a spirit."
"Yeah, I've never smelled ozone this strong before. Hey, come here. Does that look familiar to you?"
My ears perked up. Was Sam talking about the drawing?
"It's the same symbol. Seems like it is the spirit of Jacob Karns."
Bingo!
It didn't take me long to find Karns' grave; it was engraved with the same symbol on the wall. But I did have to wait until night. Would be a bad idea to dig up a grave during daylight hours when people could see—they tended to get a little antsy about it. So I had a little catnap at the motel. The bed sheets were itchy as hell but I'd slept in worse places. I was in no rush as even if the boys found the grave too, they wouldn't be moving on it until night either. And I figured they'd be watching out for Lori too.
I'd set my alarm for an hour before sundown; I wanted to get started as soon as possible. I drove out to the cemetery and waited until everything was nice and dark and quiet, then I grabbed my shovel and headed over.
Jacob Karns' grave was marked by a headstone smaller than the others that surrounded it. No expenses paid for murderers.
I took off my jacket, knowing I'd work up a sweat, despite the falling temperature. I picked up the shovel and started digging. I figured Sam and Dean would show up sooner rather than later.
Twenty minutes later to be exact.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Nice to see you too, Dean." I flung up a pile of dirt over my shoulder in the direction his voice had come from. I never said I wasn't petty and childish at times.
"How did you know to come here?"
I turned to look at Dean, dug the shovel into the dirt and leaned against the handle. I lowered my voice doing a poor imitation of Sam. "It's the same symbol. Seems like it is the spirit of Jacob Karns."
"You were there?!" Dean still hadn't moved any closer to me or the grave.
"Yep. Under the bed."
"You were… I can't…" he spluttered. "Of course you were under the bed."
I swiped the sweat off my head with the back of my hand. "Where's the taller, more charming one?"
"How dare you?! There's no way Sam out charms me."
"Uh huh." I laughed at Dean's offence. "Is that why I assume he's with the cute girl and you're here to dig up some dirt?"
Dean snarled. I wasn't entirely convinced it was supposed to be playful. "Have I told you that I don't like you?"
"Yeah I got that. You planning on using that shovel?" I asked. "To dig, I mean. Not for bashing my head in."
"Spoil all the fun why don't you," Dean said as he too removed his jacket and jumped into the small hole I'd managed to make since I'd started.
We kept digging, occasionally bashing into one another, Dean continuously muttering under his breath. After ten minutes or so, we found our rhythm with one another, digging more efficiently.
"That's it. Next time, I get to watch the cute girl's house."
"Seriously, are you going to keep this up all night?"
"Darlin' I could keep a lot of things up at night." He threw a wink over his shoulder.
"Eww." I shuddered then continued digging, bending over to try and dislodge a particularly stubborn patch of mud.
"Although I have to say, the view hasn't been all bad." Dean's voice had turned… 'gooey' was the best word to describe it, like chocolate drizzled over the best ice cream sundae you'd ever had.
I straightened quickly, not turning around. "Please tell me you're not staring at my ass. Because if you are, I will stick this shovel somewhere you won't find pleasant."
"Kinky." Dean laughed. "Don't worry, short stack, you're not my type."
I glanced over my shoulder to see him continuing to dig. "You're a dog."
"Funnily enough, you are not the first woman to say—"
His shovel hit into something hard. We were there. "Hello preacher."
We cleared off the remaining dirt, pried open the coffin and wasted no time salting and burning the body.
"We should have brought marshmallows." Dean said as he warmed his hands by the fire.
I didn't care about marshmallows. The case was over. I would finally be able to put Dean firmly in my rear-view mirror.
We picked up our shovels and jackets and began making our way back to our vehicles.
"So I guess our burning hot love affair ends here? Whatever will you do without me?" Dean asked as he nudged me with his shoulder.
"Cry myself to sleep, wondering where it all went wrong."
"Aww that's so swe—"
"Oh, wait. I know where it all went wrong." I stopped and faced him. "You."
"Me? And what have I told you about interrupting me?"
"Yes, you. You're a pig."
"You don't even know—"
This time it was Dean's phone interrupting him. He pulled it from his pocket, raised it to his ear. "Sammy?" Concern graced his face as he listened to Sam. He looked over to me.
Something told me the case wasn't quite as done as I'd hoped.
Something had gone wrong. The Hook Man was still around. Lori's father had been attacked just as we were leaving the cemetery. Dean and I headed to the hospital to meet Sam—Dean had wanted to "leave my ass behind" but I was insistent—I'd threatened to scratch his car. Judging by his reaction, the man loved his car. Maybe a little too much.
When we got there, we couldn't get to the reverend's room as there were two sheriff deputies blocking the corridor. As we continued arguing, Sam and the Sheriff rounded the corner.
"No, it's alright. We're with him. He's my brother. Hey! Brother!" Dean beamed and waved.
"Let them through." The sheriff motioned over to us.
"Thanks." Dean said as the Sheriff passed us. "You ok?" he asked Sam.
"Yeah." Sam looked back and forth from Dean to me. "Are we all friends now?"
"Never. Now what the hell happened?" I asked, crossing my arms. We needed to get to the bottom of this mess and fast.
"Hook Man," Sam stated.
"You saw him?" Dean asked.
"Damn right. Why didn't you torch the bones?"
Both mine and Dean's backs straightened at the thought we hadn't done our jobs. "What are you talking about? We did. You sure it's the spirit of Jacob Karns?"
"It sure as hell looked like him. And that's not all. I don't think the spirit is latching on to the reverend."
"Well, yeah, the guy wouldn't send the Hook Man after himself," Dean stated the obvious.
"I think it's latching on to Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman."
"So what?" Dean asked.
I spun to Dean. "Are you kidding me? Do you have no moral compass at all?"
Dean looked as if I'd offended him but, come on! Did he not get it?
"So she's upset about it." Sam was definitely the more emotionally mature than the two of them that was for sure. "She's upset about the immorality of it. She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished."
Credit where it was due, it wasn't a bad train of thought.
Dean nodded. "Ok, so she's conflicted. And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to her repressed emotions and maybe he's doing the punishing for her, huh?"
"Right. Rich comes on too strong. Taylor tries to make her into a party girl. Dad has an affair."
"Remind me not to piss this girl off."
"Unlikely," I muttered under my breath. He'd heard me judging by the evil side stare.
"But we burned the bones," Dean continued. "We buried them in salt. Why didn't that stop him?"
"You must have missed something."
Dean and I blurted at once:
"Excuse me?!"
"Hell no!"
"We burned everything in that coffin." I was sure of it. There was no way both of us would have missed something.
"Did you get the hook?"
Dean and I froze. "The hook?"
"Well it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him."
Shit. How had I missed that?!
"So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power."
Sam began nodding slowly in time with Dean. "So if we find the hook…"
"We stop the Hook Man," they spoke simultaneously.
It was my turn to look between the two of them. "Do you two always talk in unison? Because it's sickeningly adorable." I shook my head in dismay and walked off. There were no prizes for guessing where we'd be heading next. Looks like I was working with the brothers after all.
The library was pretty dead at this hour—no pun intended. The boys and I sat scouring volumes of old texts.
"Here's something, I think. Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary. Karns, Jacob. Personal affects: disposition thereof…" Dean's voice trailed off.
"Does it mention the hook?" Sam asked, leaning over him.
"Yeah, maybe. 'Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner's house of worship, St Barnabas Church.'"
"Where Lori's father preaches. Where Lori lives." I said. My mind was running ahead of me and I was up and moving before I could understand why. I found the church records. Something had happened to the hook. Someone would have seen it before if it was laying around. I began flicking through it as I made my way back to the table.
"Don't you think someone might've seen it?" Sam was saying as I returned. "I mean, a blood-stained, silver-handled hook?"
"That's because it's not a hook anymore," I said, slamming the book on the table, pointing to the entry I'd found. "St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged. They melted it down. Made it into something else."
The boys looked up at me in a state of bewildered wonder.
"Let's go scavenge, boys."
We pulled up outside the church and Lori's home. Dean had tried to speed away but my truck was faster than she looked.
"Alright, we can't take any chances. Anything silver goes into the fire," Dean said as we stood in front of his Impala. She was a beauty, I had to give him that.
"I agree. So, Lori's still at the hospital. We'll have to break in," Sam said.
"Alright, take your pick ladies and gentlemen."
"I'll take the church," I said.
Sam chose the house and headed towards it.
"OK." Dean said. I was stuck with him again. Great. "Hey, stay out of her underwear drawer."
I sighed. "On second thought, I'll take the house with Sam."
Dean called after me. "And we were getting on so well!"
"We grabbed everything that even looked silver." Sam and I had done a quick but thorough swoop of the house.
We passed the bags over to Dean and he began dumping the items into the fire he'd started. "Better safe than sorry."
A noise sounded above us. We looked to one another and in unison grabbed our guns and bolted up the stairs. The door opened out onto the back of the church. We could just make out Lori sitting in one of the pews. Dean and I turned to Sam and nudged him out the doorway.
While Sam soothed Lori, Dean and I continued to pile the pieces of silver into the fire. There were no funny quips, no snarky comments. We were in the final moments of this case and things had been too quiet.
A scream. A crash. Footsteps thudding overhead.
Please tell me I didn't just jinx us.
Once more, we grabbed our guns and ran. We followed the screams and the ear-piercing scratching, our feet crunching on the broken glass littering the floor.
We darted down the corridor. Up ahead, there he stood. The Hook Man was ready to strike Sam down as he stood protectively in front of Lori.
"Sam! Drop!" Dean shouted and we lifted our guns and each fired off a single shot. Hook Man vanished into wisps of smoke. He'd be back. And soon.
"I thought we got all the silver," Sam said.
"So did I," Dean responded, the adrenaline clear in his voice.
"We must have missed something." I said before my eyes landed on the necklace around Lori's neck. "Lori, where did you get that chain?"
"My father gave it to me."
"Where'd your dad get it?" Dean asked.
"He said it was a church heirloom. He gave it to me when I started school."
"Is it silver?" Sam asked.
"Yes!" Sam ripped the chain from around her neck.
Scratches started to line the wall once more. Round two.
"Sam!" Dean shouted. Sam threw him the necklace and he raced off. Sam and I aimed our shotguns ready for Hook Man to show himself.
As soon as he appeared we fired. We stood side by side. Sam covered the left, while I covered up ahead.
We fired twice more. Before we could fire a third when he appeared but stopped, raised his hooked hand and began to burn away into embers.
It really was over.
"And you saw him too? The man with the hook?" Me and Dean were stood in front of the Sheriff, knocking away his questions like we in the playoffs.
"Yes, I told you. We all saw him. We fought him off and then he ran."
"And that's all?"
"I'm sorry we can't be of more help, sir." I blinked away the fake tears as my hands clutched my chest. "It was just so terrifying."
"Oh, come on," Dean mumbled.
I wasn't too sure the Sheriff was buying it either as he squinted at me, like he was trying to see inside my head. But hey, he wasn't arresting me, so I was taking that as a win.
The Sheriff turned to Dean. "Listen. You and your brother—"
"Oh, don't worry, we're leaving town." He grabbed my arm and pulled me down the street. He stopped in front of his car. Sam was still talking to Lori, so he wasn't leaving just yet. Unfortunately.
"So this is it." Dean leaned against the car as if he didn't have a care in the world.
"Spare me the dreaded small talk and goodbye. We're like cats and dogs, pineapple and pizza. Let me get into my truck and we can go our separate ways. Though I have no idea how you two haven't wound up dead yet. I did most of the heavy lifting. You wouldn't have gotten rid of Hook Man without me."
Dean reached out and ruffled my hair. I smacked his hand away, a scowl residing on my face. "Sure you did, short stack. You couldn't even lift a twig without both hands."
"I'll have you know—"
"And speaking of your truck," he turned his head to where it was parked with a smile. Yeah, he knew what he'd done. Now he was the one interrupting me. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of a response. "What the hell is that?"
Right. The truck. I crossed my arms and raised my chin at his derisive tone. "It's a 1972 Ford F250"
"I know what car it is. But why is it that colour? It looks like King Kong sneezed all over it and like Fred Flintstone's car could outrun it."
"Are you done insulting my car with pop culture references?"
"For now." He smirked.
"And that's my cue to leave. It's been fun. A real great time. But if I see you on my next case, I'm calling pest control."" I dug my keys out of my pocket and started back to my truck, Dean's laughter floating behind me.
"Hey, I don't even know your name," Dean called after me.
"That was intentional!" I answered back without turning around. And that was true. I never let myself get too personal with others. And my name was the most personal thing I owned. Apart from my truck.
I got into my snot-green truck. Thanks Dean. Asshole. It was like a weight lifted off my shoulders as I put the key into the ignition, the car into gear. I pulled away. Away from another case. Away from Sam. Away from Dean.
I'd probably never see them again anyway.