This chapter ended up a bit bigger than I thought it would but that's okay. Let me know what you guys think!
I told myself not to panic. That it was all in my head, that I had to be dreaming. There was no way in hell I had been hurt, that the red liquid soaking Donny's shirt wasn't blood, even though it smelled exactly like that. I sat on the bathroom floor, staring at the wall for nearly an hour, denying it until I was blue in the face. I was vaguely aware of Zane curled up next to me but beyond that I had no idea what was going on. After that one hour passed I told myself how stupid I was being.
It was like those movies or TV shows you watch where you end up yelling at the characters because they're being stupid, like when they hear something rustling in the bushes and yet they check it out. When they end up killed you tell yourself they deserved it because they wanted to be nosy.
Or, like my case, when you ignore that something really did happen to you, say it was a dream, and then when it happens again, you're probably screwed because you ignored the proof. Like a big slice in your skin healing and disappearing right before your eyes. I hated those people. It was enough to snap me out of my slump.
First things first, I needed a new shirt. Throwing the bloodied shirt in my bathroom tub to be washed out and disposed of later, I redressed myself in a long-sleeve and proceeded to pace in my room. Second thing, I needed to protect myself and my home against whatever was doing this. Okay, let's see. Who has the juice to do something like this? Simple question actually. Angels or high-powered demons. Maybe even a pagan God or two. Right, so I needed to angel-proof and demon-proof my apartment. I didn't have a clue about the other stuff. Well, one step at a time.
Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you looked at it, I didn't have the slightest clue on how to create hex bags that would hide me from demons and angels but I could still copy the Enochian sigils that would keep angels out. Armed with a small bottle of White-Out (I needed to put permanent markers on my shopping list) and my cell phone (yah for Supernatural wiki), I moved furniture and appliances out of the way to doodle on the walls and wrung out the extra blood from Donny's shirt into a plastic jar. Just in case I needed to draw a banishing sigil.
I let out a laugh, bordering exhaustion and hysteria. I just drew Enochian sigils all over my apartment and now I was standing in my kitchen, looking for salt. Yeah, I was a little freaked out but again, I refused to be killed because I didn't want to believe what I saw with my own eyes. Whenever I told Donny and Jared something a bit outlandish but true, they always came back with the same thing. If I didn't see it, it didn't happen. Well, guess what boys? It happened.
Next order of business was demons. I had a very pathetic amount of salt so I would need to go out right now and buy some. A glance at the clock told me it was coming up on midnight so my only option at this time of night was anything open 24 hours. Good thing there was a twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart ten minutes away from me. I only took one step before pausing, looking at my front door, the window looking into the living room, the small fireplace, and thinking about my bedroom windows along with a few vents.
Decision made, I searched the hallway closet, pulling out the small ruler I put in there three years ago. I went from room to room, taking measurements of doors, windows, vents, anything. One thing any Supernatural fan will agree on, a line of salt can easily be blown away or broken. Granted, I'll probably buy a few hula-hoops for the hell of it but I had something else in mind.
"Where is it?" I muttered, rummaging in my bedroom drawers for an extra pocket knife. Because apparently I can bring stuff back with me (like stab wounds from a psychotic vampire hunter) but also leave stuff behind. Like Dad's Ranger knife (my favorite) that he gave me when I was eighteen, not to mention my socks and slippers. I liked those socks too. Oh, found it!
Now armed, I struggled to get socks and shoes on at the same time getting my arms through a jacket. Okay I needed salt, permanent markers, and anything else I could think of.
"Zane, let's go." I was ready to swing the door open but paused. Marching into the kitchen, I grabbed the almost empty container of salt and rushed back to the living room, pouring salt along the bottom of the threshold.
"Ah! Zane, don't eat it!" Okay so that didn't really work out the way I planned it. Oh, tape! Rushing back to the closet it took a few minutes but I managed to find duct tape, penguin patterned of course.
Covering the salt line with the adhesive tape would at least keep Zane from eating it and make do until I could get back from the store.
Glancing at my canine companion, I smiled, "Okay, now we can go."
Two and a half hours later…
Glancing up at the digital clock, the numbers 2:38 glowed from their spot on my dresser. I really really wanted sleep but I also didn't. I was worried about where I would end up. Once we got back home, I studied my DVDs, finding out that I had skipped quite a bit of episodes, a whole season actually. For all I knew, the next time that happened I could be in season four or five. That would suck. I would need to push off slumber for a bit longer. At least until the apartment was doused in salt.
Sitting in the middle of my bedroom I felt ultra fan-girly. Here I was, cutting up rubber tubing to fill with salt and place them around my home. Next step in obsessive fan-girling would be memorizing an exorcism and getting an anti-possession tattoo. Actually the exorcism wasn't such a bad idea but I had a thing about needles so the tattoo was off the menu.
The trip to Wal-Mart was successful and I now adored the Auto Department. Not only did I find a fifty pound bag of road salt (on sale) but also a roll of bendable rubber tubing. Cutting another section off, I tied one end, filled it up with the white crystals according to my measurements, and then tied it off again.
I knew I looked ridiculous to Zane as I shuffled on my hands and knees, nailing the salt tube along the bottom of my bedroom door. I had already placed one above the frame just in case. I closed the door repeatedly, making sure the salt line stayed. That was the last one to be done.
Ignoring the mess on the floor, I collapsed on my bed, Zane following after me. So, my measly defense system was in place. Enochian sigils around my house to keep angels away and salt lines along my doors, windows, the fireplace, and vents to keep the demons out. I even filled up the three hula-hoops and stuffed them in my closet. I sat up, struck with an idea. I needed a hunter's bag.
Getting up, I rummaged in my closet again, pulling out an old dark-green army medic bag. Dad bought for me last year for my birthday but I hadn't been able to really use it for much. I paused again, thinking about what exactly I could put in here, which wasn't much. A big Ziploc bag of salt and that was about it. I didn't have any small iron knives and I didn't own a gun. Although I had a permit to carry a concealed weapon, it wouldn't do any good if I didn't have iron or silver rounds for the handgun. I threw the bag off to the side in a huff.
Eyeing the mess in the middle of my room, I sighed. Fine, guess I'll put my crap away. And apparently it was the day for my closet as that was the only place to hide the salt and rubber tubing. Wouldn't that be an interesting conversation to have with my family. Of course not as fun as if they found the sigils.
Putting off sleep, I decided to do some inner reflection. Kinda. Flipping through season one, I found the disc I wanted and popped it in the player. Let's see what really happened in the shapeshifter episode. It had been quite a while since I really watched it.
Forty-nine minutes later the only thing I could think of that changed with my interference was that Rebecca hadn't been tortured and I killed the shapeshifter a tad bit early. I wonder if my dream-world Dean had had to deal the police like the show's Dean. Hmm…
Switching the discs out, I was curious about what the Gordon Walker episode had entailed. I didn't remember every episode, especially the ones from the first couple seasons but I had managed to remember the important parts of episodes. So I popped that baby into the DVD player and settled back to watch it all unfold.
It was an hour later that I was laying on my bed, TV turned off and Zane snoring next to me. So if the time line was right, I hadn't really changed much from the original episode. In total I think my fight with Gordon wasn't even five minutes long but it had felt like forever. Unless I went back, I wouldn't know if Gordon had managed to catch Lenore and kill her or if the boys got there in time. However, there was something good that came out of this event.
If my dream was the same as the episode then Dean learning that not all supernatural creatures were bad was a nice exchange. Granted I got beat up and stabbed for him to learn that lesson but at least I healed from it. Which I really didn't want to get into. But there was something that upset me and it was a mistake on my part that led to me getting hurt.
I hadn't taken the dream (could I even call it that anymore?) seriously. I had thought that it was only a dream, a figment of my imagination, and didn't fight back to the best of my abilities which, if I was anyone else, would have gotten me killed. I could have fought harder, maybe knock Gordon out and take off with Lenore but no. I underestimated and got sliced for it. But again, I was happy that Dean had learned this lesson. It was good for him.
If (and that was a really big if), if this happened again and I went back to Winchesterland then I needed to fight like I could die. Which, considering what the Winchester men hunted, was a high possibility. Sad part was I hadn't been able to see or save John Winchester aka Jeffery Dean Morgan. I don't know why but I loved Jeff. Now I knew John wouldn't be Jeff but still, it would have been great.
Glancing at the clock I groaned, tossing my head back against the pillow. Five nineteen AM. Awesome. I will say that my adrenaline from earlier was gone, leaving me weary but I was still concerned about my trips to Winchesterland. I was already in the second season which was not good. The end of this season would really screw everyone over and I had no way of getting back. I didn't have any control over this… thing. Well, maybe. Okay, let's take this slowly and just ask myself some questions. So, what happened before I was transported away?
Sitting up, knees pressed against my chest I started thinking about the first time, when I had shown up in Rebecca's house. I had had a bad day at work. Stupid clients and their superior attitudes. I'm sorry but that line about the customer always being right. Yeah, total lie. Sometimes they're wrong. They'd nagged me enough that a headache had sprouted just a couple hours before I left for the day.
Eyes wide I jumped off the bed, jolting Zane awake but I ignored him, pacing back and forth in my room. Although the clients had bothered me to no end, I had amazing patience and there's no way I would have lost my cool. The headache had come on in the middle of a lull so there wasn't really anyone to give it to me. It just popped up. It was bad but when the rush came, it had made it worse.
I frowned, my lips twisted in thought because I hadn't had a headache last night. I was fine, pretty content actually. Wait, that's not true. I started thinking about those dreams-!
"Oh crap!" My feet froze, eyes wide as I just realized something major. The shapeshifter dream thing wasn't the first time. Those two other times when I was a pre-teen and teenager were just like these experiences. And the earlier times, when I was much younger, I didn't remember those very well. I had been doing this since I was little. My knees grew week and I lowered myself to the floor, intent on taking deep breaths. It didn't help.
I laughed, and this time it sounded hysterical because why? I met Dean Winchester. I had actually met Dean. Another laugh. It was him, the kid that helped me when I got pushed to the floor in that middle school, Dean's school. Thinking back, it was obviously him. The dark hair, the green eyes, the same smirk, and the faint glint of gold metal hanging from his neck that I hadn't really paid any attention to until now.
Oh! Green eyes and leather. My breathing was a little faster and I had to really concentrate. I saw him again. The high school with those jerk-offs who threw the water balloon at me. It was Dean. The laser eyes drilling into me had been him. He must have recognized me. How though I wasn't sure, it'd been awhile. And he was the one that attacked them for me. I felt a little warm inside at the thought of him defending me. I had a weakness for men like that.
I started snapping my fingers in excitement when I realized something else. Sam had been there. He'd been the mop-top kid who'd asked if I was okay. Holy crap.
I started pacing again. Okay so I had possibly been going to Winchesterland since I was much younger than I thought. I was actually surprised that I hadn't been kidnapped or something. Though it didn't explain how I had gotten back. Hmm. Also, chances are I was somehow linked to the two hunters. If the shapeshifter and Gordon had been isolated instances, then I would think it had something to do with the supernatural but I had been transported to them when I was younger so it had to be them. Right?
Okay, I was jumping hay stacks. Back to business. So, with the Walker thing I didn't have a headache but I was emotional. I had remembered what happened to me and it caused my emotions to rise. Okay now when I got there, there wasn't anything residual from before I left. I didn't have a headache and I wasn't upset any more, though I'm assuming the latter had to do with the fact that I was suddenly in a different place.
Thinking back I did remember the gnarly headache I got both times, right before I showed up back in my apartment. My head tilted. Well they only popped up when I was in a bad spot. The shifter had been choking me and laying into my stomach. Gordon jabbed my shoulder with dead man's blood. Both dangers to me.
I flopped down on my bed. Looks like the headaches were linked somehow. When I was younger, before jumping to that high school where Dean and Sam was at, I had had a headache at my school, right before we let out for the day. So the headaches could be the reason I was jumping realities? But whatever it was also reacted to me being in trouble.
The shifter could have killed me, probably would've too, but my adrenaline kicked in and allowed me to push back at him, which I gotta admit was pretty amazing. Last I knew shifters were stronger than humans. But after he was taken care of, my headache remained and I ended up coming back here.
With Gordon it was somewhat the same. Gordon jabbed me in the shoulder, which activated another headache. Except this time I managed to get injured pretty good. But I returned back to the apartment after that, and the wounds had healed. Maybe I had sustained some bruises and such from the shifter but they had healed up?
Okay, so the facts (or closest thing to a fact) were that my headaches signified that I was about to jump to and from Winchesterland. Or when my emotions were high. When I jumped back here, it only really happened when I was in danger. Or maybe from the adrenaline. Or both.
Or maybe neither. I had just doodled all over my apartment and laid salt everywhere. There was still a chance this was an angel or demon doing all this. I didn't know a whole lot about Pagan deities except some of them can be killed by a stake or a blood-tipped stake from a specific type of wood. Of course all that info wouldn't do me any good if I didn't know what God or Goddess was doing this, if they were doing it at all.
I shot another glance at the clock, the numbers telling me it was coming up on six thirty in the morning. Hmm. To sleep or not to sleep? Leaving the bedroom, Zane scrambling off the bed to follow me, I did a circuit around the apartment, making sure all the salt tubes were still good and that the sigils hadn't smeared or been scratch by my maneuvering of furniture. I was still on the fence about drawing a devil's trap, considering all the taboo about them in this reality so for now, the salt would have to do.
Entering my room, I locked the door, again making sure the salt tube was secure and still in place. Zane had already climbed on the bed but I was still unsure. I hated the moments in horror films when the characters are sleeping, all defenseless like, and the psycho is hovering above them like a voyeur. Zane wouldn't allow anyone or anything even breathe in my direction with ill intent but I'd rather have extra protection. Hula-hoops, enter stage right.
This was an interesting idea. My bed was elevated, emptiness underneath the box spring. Well, except maybe a couple socks and puffs of Zane's fur but that wouldn't mess anything up. Rolling the plastic rings out of the closet, I quirked a smile at the sound of the salt as it tumbled around the tube. So my plan was to overlap the rings as far as I could without leaving any gaps for a demon to slip through, that way a larger range of area would be deemed safe. I wouldn't be able to nail them to the floor but duct tape should do the trick.
With a detour to the hall closet I was ready to prepare for bed. Zane was watching me, his massive head hanging over the mattress as I ripped off several pieces of tape and stuck them on the edge of my night stand. I shoved the first hula-hoop but stopped when I met resistance and heard a slight heavy thud. What the hell?
Dipping my head to take a peek, I laughed with a hint of giddiness. I lost my pocket knife but got a sword in exchange. Pulling the angel blade out from under my bed, I just knew this was the same one I had when I killed that shifter. It must have fallen off my bed when I came back. Granted, my favorite pocket knife had been Dad's gift to me but now I had a demon and angel killing knife. Placing it aside, I continued stuffing the toys underneath my bed, taping them down to the carpet.
Once that was done, I quickly changed into something sleep appropriate. Surprise surprise, I choose another one of Jared's old shirts, big and black, paired with navy blue plaid sleep shorts. Hitting the lights, I dived under the blankets, settling myself deep into the cotton, but not before placing the angel blade next to me on the night stand. I was already thinking of designing a sheath for it that could be attached to the side of the mattress or under my pillow. But I'd hold that off until later.
Counting Zane's breaths I started to fade off but I did think of one thing before blacking out.
I wonder what episode the boys are on right now?
~~~SPN~~~
Me and my big mouth. I was gonna get in serious trouble one of these days. Immediately I knew I had managed to travel back to Winchesterland but I wasn't really sure where exactly. I was in a building, standing in the middle of a dark hallway that stretched for a bit then turned left into a different hallway, and I'm assuming so on and so forth.
If anyone were to see me, it might look a little strange. I had decided to forego socks before going to bed, so I was barefoot but Jared's shirt reached just mid-thigh and covered any trace of my shorts. I would no doubt be an interesting sight to encounter in a dark hallway. The only redeeming factor to my ensemble was my angel blade lying on the floor, next to my bare feet. It hadn't been on my person but since it was technically a supernatural item, it probably joined me because the place I was jumping to was filled with supernatural creatures? Maybe? I don't know, I was mostly guessing at this point.
Grabbing the blade I made my way down the hall, peeking into a room on my left that turned out to be an office. Hmm. I couldn't really hear anything so I tie-toed in, making my way around the desk.
Paper. Paper. More paper. Moving the reports around I couldn't see anything that would let me know-oh wait, found something. The note pad was one of those personalized ones that displayed the business logo and the worker's own name. Andrew Stephens matched the metal name plate on the desk and he worked at…
"'Milwaukee National Trust?'" A bank or some kind of money loan place? Hmm? Well, if the pattern was the same, the Winchester brothers had to be around here somewhere. Or were gonna be showing up some time soon. The only episode I could think of would be that shifter episode that took place in a bank. And that was a hunt that was created into an episode. This could be something completely different.
I gave the angelic sword a twirl between the fingers. If it was the shifter from the bank, at least I had the means to killing it. And kill an angel or demon too if need be. Though I'd rather not have to. I was definitely memorizing an exorcism when I got back. I wonder which would be better to use, Latin or an Enochian one?
Tilting my head to the side, my eyes widen and I crouched behind the desk when hearing fast footsteps from the hallway. Looking at the wall behind the desk, I studied the plaque that told what a great employee Andrew was (good for you Andrew), watching the reflection of a shadow breeze by the open door. An ungodly tall shadow, whose mop-top I'd recognize anywhere. Sam.
As quiet as possible to avoid spooking him and activating Hunter Mode, I jumped to my feet. Stopping at the door I looked to my right just in time to see his shadow turn left down another hallway. I started forward but paused. Why is he just meandering about? If you were looking for something, why wouldn't you check every room you passed by? Unless you already checked this room? But why go back the way you came if you were searching for something? Wouldn't you keep going forward? Unless… Slowly I pivoted on my heels, looking down the hallway Sam had just come from. Unless you already found what you were looking for.
Not hearing anything in either direction, I quietly made my way forward, passing a utility closet and two more empty offices before slowing down once seeing the glass doorway. Using the same caution when I had passed the other rooms, I tip-toed forward and eased a peek into the dark room.
Hmm… well, at least I knew I was in an episode and which one. There on the floor was a red-haired woman wearing a baby blue dress slip with her throat slit. Sneaky little bastard. Which meant Sam was on his way to get Dean and the real woman from the vault. It also meant that Henriksen was outside and SWAT was about to break in. Down to business then. Let's see if I can win myself an Emmy.
"Oh my God!" Keeping the angel blade hidden, I gasped and "stumbled" into the room, face morphed into horror and fear. At least I hope so. I felt goofy. Collapsing to my knees, blade stashed next to my leg out of sight, I made a show of hyperventilating and flapping my hands in a panic.
"Oh God. Oh God." I noticed people tended to repeat these words when freaking out so I figured it was safe to only say that. I placed two fingers on the shifter's wrist, my hands "shaking" and "trying" to find a pulse. Oh yeah I felt a little something but I ignored it.
"Oh-oh my God, I'm sorry." Cue watery eyes and the barest hint of a hysterical tone in my voice. So far the shifter was buying it, remaining still and faking its death. I was pretty proud of myself. If my high school drama teacher saw me now (bastard flunked me), I'd tell him to suck it.
"I-I'm s-sorry." With my left hand, I closed the shifter's eyes as a sign of "respect," adding a slight tremble to make it convincing. The other hand wrapped around the angel blade's hilt. Apparently I gave something away because I felt the shifter's eyes open under my hand but you know what? Too late.
I was surprised by how easy the blade went through bone but I did put a lot of pressure into the stab. My hand slipped from the shifter's eyes to its mouth, keeping the painful, angry growl from escaping. It arched and thrashed but it just managed to impale itself pretty thoroughly. Its hands wrapped around both my wrists but I could feel the fight leaving and finally it stilled, eyes open and staring at nothing.
I waited a few seconds but the body remained quiet and I could see the blue veins start growing from the wound, just like the shifter in St. Louis. I see your silver knife and raise you an angel blade. Hearing a woman's panic-filled pleading, I pulled the sword out and used the slip to clean off the blade. Time to go. I rushed to the doorway, intent on vanishing but fate had other plans.
"Hey!" Dual voices rang out and I froze, glancing to my left. Two surprised faces with matching frowns and hazel eyes openly glared at me, the woman standing between them showing fear. I don't really know what made me do it but all I could think of was…run!
Running on bare feet hurt. Just throwing that out there. I had at least a thirty-second head start but then the pounding of feet was following me along with a deep voice shouting for me to stop. At least it was Dean chasing me and not Sam with his freakishly long legs. But really it was a loose-loose situation. He was gonna catch me, it was only a matter of time.
Turning down another hallway I faltered for a second when hearing the sound of glass breaking from somewhere in the building. SWAT was here and all three of us needed to disappear. Sadly I didn't have any red high-heels. My mind worked in strange ways because I jumped from Wizard of Oz to Beetlejuice.
"Home! Home! Home!"
I jolted up from my spot on the bed, chest heaving from my sprinting. The angel blade was still clutched in my hand so I was happy I didn't leave that behind too. Zane was sitting up, whining from his side of the bed. Well, he wasn't as panicked as he was the first time around, maybe he was getting somewhat use to me going off on these little fieldtrips of mine.
Laying back down I let my breathing regulate but now I had something else to think about. I hadn't had a headache or was emotional when I had jumped realities. I had just been curious about what the brothers were up to and viola! Winchesterland. Like wise, nothing had been a danger to me (I didn't count Dean chasing me) and I didn't get a headache when I wanted to come back. I had more or less willed it. I glanced at Zane who had settled down and was watching me.
"Zane, what the hell is happening to me?"
~~~SPN~~~
Keeping the red-head between him and Sam, Dean kept replaying the conversation he'd had on the phone.
"I know all about the grave desecrations, the credit card thefts. The list goes on Dean. What I can't wrap my head around is how you managed to convince a woman to go along with this whole sick charade. She does the dirty work and you go scot-free? Tell me something Dean, that girlfriend of yours just as twisted as you?"
Dean's hand brushed the metal clip in his back pocket, remembering the anger and guilt. "You got no right talking about her like that. You don't even know her."
"So does that mean I can talk about your Dad?"
Dean's hand curled into a fist, beating back the feelings. He had a job to do and this wasn't the place to vent. They would kill the shifter, get out before the cops came in, and then he could go shot something. A flash of movement caught his attention and he looked up to see a definite female figure walk out of the office Sam had told him about.
"Hey!" His voice blended with Sam's and the woman froze. In all honesty, the shifter was the furthest thing from his mind at this moment. Bare, toned legs disappeared under a large black shirt and brown wavy hair framed a soft face. And then she was gone.
Dean was just a few seconds behind Sam as they both rushed into the office, Sam's hand wrapped around the shifter's wrist as he dragged it along.
The shifter let out a scream, tugging on its arm to get away from Sam and the body before it slumped to the floor, unconscious. At least that's what Dean thinks happened. He wasn't paying too much attention. His eyes were trained on the woman's body lying in the middle of the floor. His brother was hovering above her but Dean found it a little strange that he was breathing a bit hard.
Sam ran his hands through his hair muttering something under his breath that Dean didn't catch. "What's wrong Sammy?"
Wide eyes spun in his direction, his mouth opening and closing like a fish for a few seconds before he spoke. "It's a triangle…"
Dean frowned in confusion. "Sam?"
Sam leapt to his feet. "It's a triangle cross section Dean! It's her, she's alive!"
Dean was already out the door before Sam finished his sentence, chasing after his girlfriend. "Sam, get Sherry out of here!"
He didn't have to look back to know Sam would get the blonde woman to safety. For now, he had something else to do.
"Hey, stop!" Dean had reached the end of the hallway, following it as it turned left but he could see a little ways ahead how the hallway split in two different directions and he'd have to choose one. But he was willing to play hide-and-seek all over this building if it meant catching up to her.
He took a chance and turned right at the juncture, feeling a surge of adrenaline when hearing the sound of glass shattering. SWAT was in the building. He needed to find her before Henriksen did. No way in hell was he gonna let her get in trouble for helping them. He was rewarded when he heard a feminine shout repeating what sounded like the word Home. He was close.
He was positive he saw her shadow in the up-coming hallway but when he turned down the same way, the corridor was empty. What the hell?
In the distance he heard the faint squawk of a radio and Dean knew he'd have to play escape and evade. Without finding her.
"Damn it."
~~~SPN~~~
Studying the landscape as it zoomed past Sam's window gave the youngest sibling an idea just how fast Dean was driving. They were three hours out of Milwaukee and Sam was sure his brother had no intention of stopping until they got to Bobby's.
Glancing over at Dean, Sam could see the whites of his brother's knuckles showing testament to how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He was silent, staring out the windshield, eyes fixed on the road but Sam knew he was only paying enough attention to not crash. The rest of his mind was focused on one thing. One person.
It was the reason they were heading straight to Bobby's. When Bobby had tried that tracking spell all those months ago, it had given them their answer to what had happened to Dean's girlfriend. Now though, not only did they have the triangle puncture wound and the dead shifter but they also had actual visual proof. They had seen her.
Sam could admit she was pretty. He couldn't see her skin tone but she had been a brunette for sure. Why she looked like she only had a shirt on Sam didn't know but when he had seen that body, he'd been shocked. There in the middle of her chest was a perfectly shaped triangle. The wound looked deep and he could see the blue web-like vines that had spread across her skin, the same like the shifter in St. Louis. The dead body hadn't actually been dead. It had been the shifter, playing possum.
When he had told Dean what he suspected, he'd seen the shock but also hope in his brother's eyes. Dean had thought her dead for months, the guilt and sadness paired with responsibility eating at him.
It was something Sam had noticed a few days after leaving Bobby's house, when the tracking spell had failed. There were times when Sam would wake up in the middle of the night and find his brother gone. A quick peek out the motel window and Sam would spy Dean sitting on the Impala's hood, looking up at the sky, the black folded knife gripped in his hand.
Or when they were on a hunt and Dean was trying to piece together information, he'd see his brother staring off into the distance, his hand flipping open the blade and snapping it close almost hypnotically. Or the times Dean would clean the weapons and her knife would be the last to be done but it was the one weapon that Dean took his time with.
When Jo had been taken by the ghost of Holmes, Dean had been upset with himself and Sam knew why. He was worried that another person would die because of them. Because of him. He'd watched his brother pace in the apartment, knife in hand and thumb rubbing the grip absentmindedly.
Or when Gordon had set that trap for Sam. He was sure Dean hadn't really noticed but when they had been about to leave the abandoned house, Dean had dumped Gordon's bag looking for his weapons. All of Dean's weapons had been there but Sam noticed his brother didn't touch any of them until he found her knife.
There was something else. Sam and Bobby had called her Dean's girlfriend as, at first, a joke and because that's what Gordon had said she was. She had threatened Gordon with a promise of Dean beating him in a fist fight, a common trait with girlfriends, but after a while Dean accepted it and no longer grumbled about the term under his breath like he had done at first.
The only thing that really concerned Sam was that if this wasn't her, then it would nearly kill Dean. He needed her to be alive. To know that she hadn't been killed. Sam had an idea to verify this but he wasn't sure Dean would like it.
"Dean?"
His brother was quiet but he turned his head slightly in Sam's direction, letting the younger sibling know he had been heard and acknowledged.
"I have an idea on how to track her down."
Those words caused a flare of life in Dean. He jolted, looking over at Sam with barely concealed hope. As bad as being hunted by the FBI was, finding his girlfriend was interestingly more important to his older brother.
"What is it?"
Sam bit at his lip, unsure how his brother would take his next words. "We can go see Missouri."
~~~SPN~~~
Shutting off the engine, Dean was a little tense. His initial instinct to Sam's suggestion had been a forceful and resounding No. It was bad enough going back to Lawrence the first time, but to go again? His reluctance had lasted for, at most, two seconds.
It was a damn good idea. A tracking spell was still a spell. But Missouri, she was something entirely different. So that was why Dean and Sam, near seven hours later, were stepping out of the Impala in front of Missouri's house, the woman in question standing in the doorway.
"Come on in boys. Dean I'm gonna need that knife of hers. And don't worry, I'll give it right back."
Missouri didn't wait for them, turning away and further into the house. It didn't matter. Dean and Sam hurried in after her.
Settling into the living room, Dean claimed a section of the couch, pulling his girlfriend's knife out. Rubbing the knife's grip helped with Dean's nerves, almost wary about what Missouri could tell them. What if she really was dead? But who was that woman in the bank? Maybe she really did have a partner and that was who had killed the shifter. Sisters or friends maybe?
"Boy, you're gonna hurt yourself thinking so hard like that."
Missouri was in front of him, too deep in his thoughts to have registered her coming back into the room. She had placed a tray of lemonade and random finger food but she was staring at Dean, her brown eyes soft around the edges.
She settled into her chair, eyes trained on Dean. "I know you're worried about what I'll tell you but it's better that you know for sure than live without knowing. Let me take a look at the blade, Hon."
Dean knew it was ridiculous but his grip tighten.
"Honey, I'm gonna give it right back. I just need to see it for a bit." Missouri's eyes were soft, her hand held out.
Dean looked over at Sam who nodded back at him. It took a few seconds but his grip loosened and he passed it over to Missouri's outstretch hand.
Immediately Missouri's eyes closed, the knife held in both hands. Already Dean's knee started bouncing, worry making his hands wring themselves. He'd had that knife in his possession for so long it felt strange to see it in someone else's hands.
Finally Missouri opened her eyes, giving Dean a soft smile as she held it back out to him. "Here you go boy, just like I promised."
Stuffing the blade back in his pocket, Dean exchanged a look with Sam before turning to back to Missouri. "Well?"
"She's alive. And yes, she was the one at the bank."
A huge sigh left Dean and he felt lighter. The guilt, anger, and sadness had been eating at him for months but he was so glad she was okay.
"Can you sense her Missouri?" Sam asked, looking as hopeful as Dean felt. "Somehow track her down?"
She was already shaking her head before Sam was done with his request. "That, I can't do. Whatever she's doing to hide herself, it's powerful. Really powerful."
Dean looked over at Sam, giving a faint nod. There was one theory that could hold some water if Missouri was able to verify it.
"Missouri? We think she could be like me. A psychic. You pick up anything like that?"
Missouri hummed under her breath. "She could be. I felt something from that knife. She went into that house ready for what she saw, knew what she would see. She could have seen the events ahead of time. But again, she's being shielded by something powerful so I can't get more than that."
"Powerful enough to hide from tracking spells?"
Missouri nodded at Sam's question. "If you're wondering about that spell Bobby did all those months ago, than yes. Not sure if there's anything that'll be able to track her down. Me included."
"But she's okay?" That was what Dean wanted to know. He wasn't sure how bad Gordon had hurt her but she had looked healthy enough at the bank. Well, more than healthy actually. Dean banished the thought before it could grow into something else.
Missouri raised an eyebrow at Dean, no doubt aware of what he had been thinking but she ended up softening her features, small smile as she nodded. "She's just fine Dean."
More of the weight was off Dean as he sat back into the couch. This had been a great idea. He could breath now. His girlfriend was alive.
This chapter wasn't too bad. For those of you who have seen Beetlejuice you should know what I was talking about when Angie said Home three times. If you haven't seen it just know that a character from the movie repeated the word Home three times and was taken back to her house. Also the title for this chapter is the English translation of the Finnish title for the Nightshifter episode. Anyone have some suspicions about Angie? Leave me a review and let me know that you think. Peace out. -Mez