"Alllright... murder/suicide in Lindsborg, string of homicides in Spring Hill, missing kid in Pittsburg. Don't need to leave the state for any of 'em." Sam cruised into the kitchen, his laptop and a stack of newspapers balancing precariously on the palm of his hand.
Dean was standing at the stove, shuffling some bacon round in a pan. "Homicides. Only one with a 's' on the end. Rest of them could easily be one offs."
I peered up at them both over my coffee.
"Closest, too." He added.
"That's what I was thinking." Sam sat opposite Maya on the small kitchen table as Dean dropped our breakfasts in front of us. "Thanks, Dean. "Maya, what do you think?"
I stared at him, a bacon laden fork hovering inches from my open mouth. "Wha- you want me with you?" My stomach lurched.
"Dean and I have been thinking... this bunker isn't good for you. I know you've been out and about, I know you got to see some sunlight, but it's not enough. It's not healthy. So... you wanna go on a hunt?"
I leapt out of my seat to pull them both into a tight embrace. "Are you kidding me? Yes!"
"Maybe this time we'll get to see how good you really are..." Dean teased.
I sat back down, breathing a little heavy. "Hey, I was amazing last time buddy. Just... didn't end well. Happens to the best of 'em." I pointed my fork at him. "Maybe this time, I'll get to see good you two really are."
"Well prepare to be blown away, princess."
I laughed, but sensed that Dean was unsure. His demeanour wasn't giving it away, but I could feel that he wasn't convinced by what he was saying.
Sam let out an awkward cough. "Well, um... I'm gonna go pack a bag, I'll leave you two alone with your breakfast."
Dean waved nonchalantly in Sam's direction.
"You sure you feel ready to get back out there?" Dean asked, the furrow in his brow giving away his concern.
"I was ready as soon as I was healed, Dean, you don't need to worry about me. Plus, I'm stronger than ever, now, I might even be better than you." I toyed with my hair.
"You alright, Dean?"
Dean gave a sigh so heavy that my chest tightened. His hand found his chin, rubbing the scruff that had appeared after a couple days without a shave. He looked older then, the boyish glimmer in his eyes dulled. "I don't know, My. Our lives... it never seems easy, it's never safe. Like everything we touch turns to crap and I'm responsible. If it wasn't for us, you wouldn't be in this mess. You might be safe for now, but do you really, honestly think they won't find you? Do you really think you're going to always be safe? The bunker keeps you safe, it keeps us all safe, but out there, god knows what's gonna happen. Just cause we haven't heard anythin' doesn't mean they're not plannin' somethin'"
"If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead," I said gently, watching as he rubbed his temples, "and we've gotta deal with this. As it comes. Not before. What're we gonna do, plan a preemptive strike on the angels? It's been three months, and nothing. I've been out of the bunker- nothing. The three of us... we can cope with anything life throws at us. Let's do this, hey? Roam the country, kicking monster butt."
He toyed with the sleeve of his shirt, making him look unexpectedly vulnerable. His usual cocky, confident demeanour hidden behind the crinkle of his concerned face. He didn't speak, and I didn't push him. The kitchen fell into silence, the whirr of the ventilation and the occasional groan of the pipes the only break from the quiet. I finished my breakfast, sipped my coffee, washed the dishes, put away the eggs and bacon, and Dean sat, silently rifling through a paper that Sam had left behind, his eyes never once drifting upward.
He let Maya potter around him for a while, washing dishes and tidying the counters. He didn't feel like talking much, but her presence comforted him, so he picked up a newspaper Sam had left behind as an excuse to stay there, silent. He tried to push the guilt away, to remind himself that he and his brother and saved her life, but history tells him time and time again that getting cosy with the Winchester's doesn't end well. His head told him she could take care of herself, but he couldn't convince his heart. She'd been keeping herself to herself, taking jobs has she found them, jobs where the monsters didn't know her name and when the town was in her rear-view, the fight was too. Now... now there was a chance that it would get personal. A chance that moving from cheap motel to cheap motel wouldn't leave the monsters behind. He blinked his eyes back into focus as Maya wordlessly re-filled his coffee cup, a warm hand squeezing his shoulder. He offered her a weak smile, and she disappeared out of the kitchen, leaving him alone.
"Dean, man? Thought you were packing, we wanna leave today, you know." Sam's voice came from behind him.
Dean bristled. "Well sorry, Sam. Sorry I'm not in any rush to take Maya's ass out of the safety of the bunker and into god knows what. For all we know, they could be trying to lure us out."
His brother rolled his eyes. "Maya's not a kid, Dean, she's not even a civilian. She's a hunter, just like you and me. She can handle herself." Sam took Maya's empty seat opposite him. His voice softened. "Look. I get it, you're worried about her. I'm worried about her, too. But can you imagine how pissed she'd be if she saw you acting like this? Acting like she's some fragile little girl that needs protecting?"
"We have a responsibility to-"
"No, Dean, we don't have a responsibility to her or anybody. All she wants is for us to be there for her, for back-up, like we're equals. Not for two personal body guards watching out for someone that can't protect themselves."
Dean rested his chin on steepled fingers. "I know... I know. I just don't get how she can so easily put herself in danger."
A dry laugh escaped Sam's throat. "You mean like you've done on so many occasions? It's because she's like us Dean. She can't sit around and wait for things to happen. She can't ignore a case, let innocent people die, because there's a chance it might put her own life in danger. She can't stay cooped up in here; did you even see her? I swear man, it was making her ill. This is the best thing for her, at our sides, doing what she does best."
Dean sighed, resigned. "I guess you're right, Sammy. Hell, she could probably hand my own ass to me if she tried."
"Probably." Sam replied with a laugh. "Pack a bag, Dean, we leave this afternoon."
He thought about what they'd both said. He felt a new wave of resolution wash over him. She was going to be with them again, all the time. He didn't have to feel the knots in his stomach they had to say goodbye, waving to them from the bottom of the stairs. She was strong. They would be there for her. They'd be doing what they loved. How had it taken him this long to realise?
The late afternoon sun, dipped low in sky, tried its utmost to blind Dean as the Impala swept along Route 81 towards Spring Hill. It had been raining, and the sunlight reflected off the damp, black tarmac, making Dean squint. Maya sat in the back, her legs crossed, humming along to the radio, Sam rode shotgun, his eyes focused and staring ahead.
"Anything else we need to know before we pull up to Murderville?" Dean took a sideways glance at Sam.
"Mmmm... not really. All killed in the same way, shot through the heart, then tied to a chair post-mortem."
"Ick." Maya piped up, pulling herself forward into the fray using Sam's seat. "That sounds more like a psycho serial killer than a monster; you sure about this, Sam?"
Sam feigned offence. "Are you questioning my intuition?"
"Bit late to be asking him that now, angel." Dean smirked.
She threw her hands up. "Now, now. I'm not questioning anybody... just...curious. Nobody filled me in any further, remember?" An accusatory finger was pointed at Sam.
The younger Winchester turned to face Maya. "Because you two were having some sort of movie moment."
"Alright, alright, you couple'a kids... Sam, fill her in would ya? She'll only pout."
On cue Maya's lips pursed into a child-like pout. Dean took a quick glance at her through the rear-view, not being able to help the smirk that pulled at his lips.
"Ok, ok. All the spouses are missing. Haven't been seen since it happened."
Maya's expression turned quizzical. "Four bodies.. four missing spouses. Alright, Sam, I'm sorry I questioned you." She patted him on the shoulder, and he gave a resolute nod.
The Welcome to Spring Hill sign appeared in front of them, then slowly shrunk away as the trees grew sparser and buildings more abundant.
Dean left the car idling as Sam ran into yet another motel to find a room. There was some sort of festival on the outskirts of town this week, and everywhere seemed to be booked up.
"What kind of people have the time to come to mid-week craft and arts festival?" Maya's head appeared next to his, resting on the front seat.
"Soccer Moms. People who retired at forty. Grandmas."
Her throaty laugh, so close to his ear, gave Dean goosebumps, and her turned towards her. Her skin was glowing in the early evening light, the glimmer had returned to her wide-set eyes. He noticed a smattering of light freckles dusting her nose and cheeks that he'd never seen before. She was beautiful, no doubt about that, but right now she seemed more beautiful than ever. Like the life that the bunker had sucked out of her had returned tenfold, and she was even more Maya than she was before. Her eyes squinted to focus as something ahead, and he turned to see Sam standing outside the reception, beckoning them out of the car and toward a room. His passenger's eyebrows lifted.
"This place looks nice!"
"Little nicer than we'd usually go for, but I guess we don't have a lotta choice."
"Nope." She said shortly, savouring the fact that she'd gotten exactly what she was hoping for. She slipped out the car.
"Probably more expensive, too!" Her voice was cheerful she sashayed toward Sam, Dean trying his hardest not to notice the exaggerated swing of her hips.
"Good morning. I'm Agent Carter, this is my partner Agent Rogers, and our colleague Agent Barnes." Sam, Dean and I flashed our badges in perfect unison." We wondered if we could speak to whoever's in charge of operations round here. " The Spring Hill police station was a small, unassuming building in the centre of town, with peeling white walls and the feint smell of damp.
"That'll be Sheriff Weller. If you give me a moment." The receptionist pushed herself up from her chair and bustled into the back room, the door clicking shut behind her.
"Nice place, huh?" Dean mumbled, eyeing the faded carpet.
"It's not all pristine, marbled floored offices with floor to ceiling windows, kid."
Sam chuckled. "I don't think it's ever been."
"Sirs, Ma'am. I'm Sheriff Weller, how can I assist you today?" He offered me a warm, rough hand.
It was Sam who spoke. "String of homicides? The bureau thought we should take a look- there've been a couple of similar cases in New Mexico. Wondered what you could tell us."
"If you want to come through, I can give you the rundown on what we've got so far." He led us through to the backroom, small but bustling, and offered us a seat as his desk.
"Small place like this...things like that just don't happen. Think the whole town's on edge." The case file was dropped in front us.
I looked to the crime scene photos first. They weren't grisly- I'd definitely seen worse, but there was something disturbing about them. They were clean, tidy, clinical almost. There were three male vics, one woman. All the photos looked pretty much the same. Each of them were tied to a dining room chair, their hands behind their backs, their mouths gagged. I flicked through, finding the coroner's photos. I squinted at them closely. The entry wounds on two of the four vics were slightly different to the others.
"The gunshots... First and second vic shot with a different weapon, right?" I passed them along to Dean.
"That's right, ma'am. We think the second vic, Carrie Lee, was killed by a revolver or somethin', .45 cal. Mr Wicks..."
"A 12 gauge..." I finished.
"Right. The other two, looks to be a standard 9mm pistol."
It was Sam's turn to ask questions, as Dean and I continued perusing the file. "Any sign of forced entry?"
"Nope. They either knew their killer personally, or at least trusted 'em enough to let 'em into their homes."
"And the spouses?"
The sheriff adjusted his collar. "Heh. Well, we don't know about the spouses. Nowhere to be found, none of em. Makes 'em look mighty suspicious, but what the hell kind of crazy coincidence is that? We were thinkin' serial killer- kill a spouse, take a spouse, that kinda thing. We've had search parties lookin' for 'em since it happened. Nothin'"
Dean stood up and offered his hand to the sheriff. "Thanks, Sheriff, you've been a real help. Call us if anythin' else comes up. Which way to the ME's office? We oughta take a look at the bodies."
"Well that was a bust." I sighed, sliding on my sunglasses as we stepped out of the Hospital. "Not a single weird or wonderful thing between them."
"Looks like the weird isn't in the way they were killed, it was who they were killed by." Sam shook his head. "The whole different weapon thing seems off, too. If we've got some potentially supernatural serial killer, why would they use different weapons? That's not usually their style."
"Right. They usually have the same method, the same weapon. Seems more like different killer, same M.O." Dean shrugged.
I scratched my head, the midday heat making me feel a little sleepy. "We should definitely try to track down their partners. Maybe they were forced to kill them, possessed? Then when they'd realised what they'd done, they scarpered."
"Seems viable to me." Dean eyed an upcoming diner. "I'm hungry though, can't think on a empty stomach."
I followed the boys into the small, brightly decorated diner, the smell of burgers and waffles making my stomach grumble. I paused at the threshold. I felt a prickle climb up my spine and to my neck, as though someone's eyes were on me. I took a breath and turned around, eyes scanning everything in my immediate area, heat rising in my face. Nothing. No shady characters, no one dressed all in black, nothing. I mentally chastised myself for being so paranoid. I was warded, I had the boys at my side; I was safe. I pulled myself together, painted a smile on my lips and joined Sam and Dean at a booth in the corner.
"You alright?" Dean's concerned eyes scanned my face.
"Yeah... fine, just... thought I heard something."
The brothers' eyes met across the table, and a crinkle appeared between Sam's nose.
"Well. Let's order then, huh? If I wait any longer I think I'll pass out." I was grateful for Dean pretending to let it slide, even though the look that passed between he and his brother was so clearly a silent agreement to discuss this in great detail later on.
The Impala made its steady way along Spring Hill's main street, streetlights illuminated the occasional car tucked between rows of neatly pruned trees. It was quiet on the streets, but I noticed huddles of peoples through the windows of the bars and restaurants, their warm lights making squares of orange on the dark pavement. We needed to check out the crime scenes, but as we were a little late to the party, most of them had already been cleaned by now and the bodies taken to the morgue. The first victim's house was on a wide, tree-lined street; it looked like the kind of house I drew when I was a kid, perfectly square, four windows on the front, and no porch. The car gave a throaty grumble as it slowed to a stop just outside the property, and we took a moment to get kitted out.
"Maya: EMF reader; Sam: torch; Dean: talent, speed, skilfulness, you know the drill." Dean's eyes glinted mischievously as he looked at me. I couldn't resist slapping him arm.
"If we don't find anything," I nodded toward the house, "I'm going home." I was on high alert after this afternoon. I didn't see anything, but the feeling that someone was out there kept gnawing at me. I stayed close to Dean as we made our way across the lawn.
The EMF reader remained silent throughout the house, and barely even flickered as we searched the crime scene. There was, however, an overwhelming scent of rotten eggs.
"Sulfur." Sam said, his face crinkled in disgust.
"Great. Just great. You know what?" Dean held his hands up above his head. "I'm sick of these black-eyed bastards."
I suppressed a giggle. "I'm sure they're sick of you too, Dean. Let's check out the rest of the house, huh? I'll take downstairs."
Dean pointed a finger at me. "You got your gun?"
I tapped the pistol tucked into the waistband of my jeans. "Of course."
I headed for the kitchen, first, not really expecting to find anything. As I reached the back door, I felt my skin prickle again. The air seemed to wave, the way it does it when it's hot out. I could hear a quiet ringing in my ears. The same thing I felt when I sensed Cas coming. Shit. The angel blade was in the trunk. I pulled out my gun and cocked it, knowing full well it wouldn't do a thing against an angel, but taking comfort in it's weight in my hand. I started to out of the room, slowly, the muzzle of my gun aimed at the the back door. I thought I might be able to get to the trunk, or at least warn Sam and Dean so they could get a head start, but I found myself unable to make a sound. The ringing grew louder until I had to press my hands to my ears, and grip the countertop for support. The back door swung open, before I could even will my legs to move I felt a sharp pain on the back of my neck, and everything went warm and dark.