Kansas blasts through the stereo, and I halfheartedly listen to Dean singing loudly and off-key. I rub my temples and rest my head on the backseat neck-rest. Sam's reading a newspaper article in the front seat, his cell phone in hand.
Turning down the radio, he punches in a number and holds it to his ear. After a short pause, he says "Hi, this is John Downy, from the Willow Square Police Department. I'd like to ask you a few questions about the recent deaths in your town." His voice is so professional and authoritative, I barely manage to disguise a laugh.
Only being able to hear his side of the conversation, I wait for him to get off the phone rather than eavesdrop and infer. It's much easier to just have it described to me at once.
"So he didn't tell me much more than we already know." Sam says, hanging up. "Just that mutilated bodies have been showing up. Five in the past six months."
I reach my hand out for the article, and Sam passes it to me. I glance through it some, but I've already had it relayed word for word by Sam. About five times.
"There has to be something this town isn't telling us." Dean says, glancing in his rearview mirror. "Or maybe it's not a case after all."
It's a thought. Maybe these murders are from actual humans. But then again…
"The bodies are mutilated. They suspect an animal." Sam says, pointing to the spot in the article that says just that.
I think it over. "So…werewolves?" I ask them. Sam and Dean had filled me in on a lot of their past cases, over several car rides and diner meals.
"That would be the most obvious answer," Sam responds, but doesn't sound entirely convinced. He opens the glove box and roots around among papers and matchboxes, until he lands on a book. He clears his lap and starts flipping through it. I assume it's "The Book". The one Sam and Dean's father put together over his many years as a hunter.
Dean pulls into a driveway and turns off the ignition. Turning around in his seat, he looks at me and sternly says, "Wait here."
I raise my eyebrows. "Yes, master." I respond in a monotone voice. What a joke. I unbuckle my seatbelt and reach for the door handle.
"I'm serious." Dean says again. Sam looks back at me sensitively, understanding that Dean won't let up unless I'm rooted in the car.
"Whatever", I say, rolling my eyes and stretching out in a relaxed pose. "I'll just sleep."
Sam smiles kindly and mouths "thank you" before they both get out of the Impala.
I tap my fingers on the back of the seat, waiting. And waiting. I rifle through The Book some more, count the number of dead ends I have, and chip my nail polish for a full fifteen minutes before I decide to go in after them. Getting out of the car, I slowly walk to the front door, opening it and walking towards the voices I hear in what I assume is the kitchen.
"I've already told the police everything I know. I don't really feel like repeating myself." A youngish male voice says irritably.
Dean groans, and I see him give am almost defeated look to Sam. Walking into the room, I smile at their surprised faces, before looking at a boy of about 18 or 19 sitting at the kitchen table.
"Hi," I say, extending my hand towards the boy and smiling. "I'm their other, smarter, partner." He looks at me and smiles before reaching out and shaking my hand, informing me his name is James.
"So, there's nothing more you can tell us, James?" I say, cocking my head slightly and batting my eyelashes. "Every piece of information helps."
"No. Idiot won't tell us anything." Dean mutters. I stomp my foot on his, smiling harder when I hear a pained grunt escape his lips.
"Well, uh" the boy says, looking at me and fiddling with something on the table. "I found the guy by that willow tree in the front yard", he continues, nodding his head towards a window depicting a huge willow tree among other landscape. "I already told the police this a couple months ago, but he was, um, pretty gross. His whole body was shredded. If it was an animal, it's nothing I'd want to come across."
"Unbelievable." Dean mutters.
"You don't think it was an animal?" Sam asks confusingly. The boy glares at him, and then looks back at me. I raise my eyebrows.
He clears his throat and continues. "Well. Me and my mom have lived here our whole lives. Usually the only wildlife we get is a couple of deer and rabbits. But, um…" he looks reluctant to continue, but I reach out and give him an encouraging squeeze on his shoulder.
"There's this guy?" he asks in a smaller, questioning voice. "He's been going around town, telling everyone he saw this thing." He gives a nervous laugh and shakes his head, embarrassed.
I hear some movement behind me, and Dean asks "What kind of thing?"
James doesn't answer, but I reach into my newly acquired purse for a pad of paper and a pen. "Can you write down the guy's name? And any information you have about him?" I slide the paper and pen over to him, and watch as he writes them down.
Handing them back to me, he adds "No one really believes him. He's one of those government conspiracy types." He gives me a look, biting his lip. "But I saw that dead guy. And how mangled his body was. I don't know what killed him, but I know it wasn't a freaking deer."
"Thanks for your help." I say, smiling at him, pushing the pad of paper into Dean's chest and smirking as he tries to catch it before it falls. Then I start to walk out, hearing footsteps following me.
Back in the car, Dean turns the music on and irritatingly looks at the paper. "I told you to stay in the car", he says in an angry voice.
"You were taking too long." I retort, stretching my feet out on the backseat and taking out my cell phone. It's dead now, but I was hoping I could find a cell phone charger of some kind in an electronic store. I didn't have time to grab mine when I was fleeing the house from demons.
"She did help" Sam says. "The guy wouldn't even talk until she showed up."
"Whatever." Dean says, reaching over to snap on his seatbelt. "We were wearing him down."
I snort, and then give an innocent face to Dean's succeeding glare. Guy needs to learn how to control his anger. As we're making our way towards the address James gave us, we each go into our usual routine: Dean driving, Sam researching, and me sleeping.
---
I wake up to a knife pressed against my throat.
"You have got to be kidding me." I say. I'm still in Dean's car, but both of them are missing. I look up at the face of a 30-something man with slight eyebrows and raunchy breath.
"What are you doing in my driveway?" the man asks hostilely.
Thinking quickly, I force my energy into fire and stare at the hand holding the knife. Suddenly, he gasps in pain and drops his weapon, reaching out with his other arm to cradle his now-burnt hand. I scrabble out of the car within seconds, my adrenaline almost canceling out the exhaustion from using an element. I quickly pick up the stranger's knife before kicking out his legs, forcing him to the ground. I hold the tip of the knife towards his eye socket and hastily try to regain my breath.
"Are you Steve McCoy?" I gasp out to him. He's wearing sweatpants and a shirt with a hole in it that's bulging over his stomach. Both he and his clothes are covered in grime, which matches his house. From a couple quick glances, you'd assume it was a literal pigsty, complete with a whopping oinker to fill it up.
He smiles a crazy leer at me – you'd think his teeth would match his otherwise completely lack sense of hygiene, but they're almost too perfect. They gleam white. "What's it to you?"
I move the knife down to his throat and prick the tip in until a tiny drop of blood rivets down his throat. "Where are the two guys that were in the car with me?"
"Are you working for the gov?" he spits out, a gob of spittle literally flying from his mouth. Crazy old man.
I haunch down onto the heels of my feet, keeping the blade in place and staring coldheartedly into his eyes. "I'm the one holding the knife, asshole. So this is going to be a very one-sided game of 21 questions. Answer. Now."
He attempts to kick out at me, but I stomp on his stomach before he even has the chance, and he grunts in pain. "Yes, I'm Steve," he answers, licking his lips before continuing. "And I have no idea who you're talking about. No one else was in the car when I pulled in." I push my foot down harder – I'm guessing he responds more to actual pain than just threats of it. "Ow, I swear!"
I pull Steve up by his shirt-front and push him forward. "We're going inside" I say. I need to find Dean and Sam before I actually use the knife on this slob of a specimen. I move the knife to his left shoulder blade, estimating where his heart is. He doesn't really try to struggle, which I'm surprised about. He opens the door with a rusty key placed under a flower pot, and I kick him in and shut the door behind me.
"Sam? Dean?" I call out. I was hoping they'd be searching in the house. The inside as just as dirty as the outside, filled with yellowed curtains and ripped couches, their stuffing and springs showing in various places. Cans and cigarette ashes lay all over the floor and tables, among other grotesque items. I kick some things around and continue pushing Steve around his own house. "Me and my friends wanted to ask you some questions about the recent murders."
"Jade?" I hear Sam call out. Chairs start scraping against the floor and I push both myself and Steve towards that direction. Un-freaking-believable. Sam and Dean are helping themselves to some beers from Steve's fridge and just now standing up from a game of cards.
"You seriously left me in the car? For this schizo to find?" I shout at them, furious. "Thanks. How considerate of you." I smack Dean on the side of the head after I throw Steve down in the now unoccupied chair and hand the knife to Sam. "I mean, seriously. No freaking wonder you thought it would be dangerous, if you're planning on ditching me at a lunatics' den. STOP. LEAVING. ME. IN. THE. CAR!" I annunciate in a roar and then sigh, calming down. I point my hand towards the house tenant. "This is Steve, by the way. Say hi."
Sam and Dean both look awed, eyebrows crossed in a completely amusing way. They're definitely brothers. "Uh, hi. Um, sir. We work for the…" Dean says, trying and failing to sound professional and law-enforcing.
"I think that cover is kind of blown, Dean." I interrupt and plop myself in the opposite chair. Looking at Steve, I start to explain why we're here. "We're not cops. We're not government agents. We're just looking for who, or what, has been killing people lately. And we hear you're in the know." I'm not about to take shit from anyone right now. I'm completely furious at everyone in this house, and I'm ready to get some answers straightforwardly. I scratch my nails along the wooded edge of the table, bringing out splinters and small pieces of decayed bark. "So. Tell us what you know, and we'll very happily leave."
Steve actually looks defeated now. I'm pretty sure his left eye is bigger than his right, somehow, and it's really creeping me out. Sam comes over and stands behind my chair, and I get up to trade places with him. He sits down and starts to question Steve as I walk over to a corner of the room and lean my back against the plain white wall. I'm really beginning to rethink this "helping" thing. I assumed these missions would be slightly more adventurous and a lot less annoying. I listen half-heartedly as Steve described a human-like animal with wings and red eyes. I watch Dean roll his eyes, but something sparks in my memory as he goes on to describe the creature. Then I start laughing.
Everyone looks at me, and Steve looks incredibly pissed that I failed to believe him. But my thoughts are actually contrary. "Let's go, guys. I know what it is. And, hopefully, how to kill it."
"What?" Sam asks, confused, following after me. Dean inclines his head to Steve and heads in front of me out the door. "Listen, Jade, we've been hunting practically our whole lives, and we –"
"Right. Which is probably why you've never had time to watch any movies." I smile. "Have you ever heard of The Mothman Prophesies?" I tilt my head to the side in an almost condescending way. I'm a total movie buff, and I'm glad to see it pay off for something. "It's rooted deep in myth and "sightings" of a creature that Steve described almost exactly. I researched it for a paper in my film class."
Dean snorts. "A moth man?" His smirk is so vile I want to use Steve's knife to perform a Joker-like facelift on him.
"Dean, maybe she has something here." Sam exclaims. He gets to the passenger side of the car and pulls it open just before Dean and I get there. We all file into the Impala, yet again – things are already starting to get incredibly repetitive. "It's at least worth looking into."
"Ugh" Dean sounds disgusted. "Okay then, research boy, make yourself useful." He rolls down his window and starts the car, not even taking a second glance back at Steve's house. We go from one destination to the next, rarely settling down for more than a few minutes in one spot. Life on the road sounded sort of fun before, but I can already see it getting old. Dean makes a clicking sound with his mouth and looks back at Sam "And find out how to kill it."
"Oh, I think I've got that one covered." I smile, looking in Dean's rearview mirror until his eyes meet mine. I bring my hands up in spirit fingers and spark out flames to the tips of my fingers, making a rippling effect of jumping inferno. "Fire, baby."
"Watch it in the car!" Dean yells with a hilariously worried look on his face.
Hell, maybe the road won't be so bad after all.