John had to admit that it always surprised him how stupid people really were. People like Greg Leavey. People who were so caught up in their own self-importance that they misread everything around them. Or didn't even bother to read it at all.
Didn't think they needed to worry about anything. Anything that they thought didn't concern them. Or wouldn't affect them. Everyday things. Mundane things.
Things like him.
And Greg Leavey had obviously misread him right from the start. Hadn't bothered to give him the time of day. Hadn't stopped to realize what a threat he actually could be. If he wanted to be. Or if he was pushed far enough.
No, that thought had never even occurred to the man. He'd thought he was safe up in his ivory tower on Main Street, Nowheresville. Safe from whatever unpleasantries real life could actually throw at him. Safe from the concerns of everyday people.
But, he wasn't. Not really. And the fact that he was about to have his car stolen, just proved that point. And the stupid moron had absolutely no idea that he made stealing his vehicle all the more easy when he had a remote starting device installed on his car. Because, all John had to do to find the car, was to push one silly little button and look for the flashing headlights and zero in on the sound of the motor running.
And, sure enough, there it was. That pleasant little hum of a well-maintained motor purring to a start. And the quick little flash of the headlights as the car came to life. Both of which made the car so much easier to hone in on. Made John's task a whole lot simpler. And made getting back to his boys a cinch. Because, without having to waste any time looking for it, John found the car.
It was sitting midway up the parking lot, just off to one side. Parking there all by itself. With nothing else around. Alone. And aloof. Just like the asshole who owned it.
As John approached it, even he had to admit that it was an appealing enough little car. If you liked those kinds of cars. Brand new. Extravagant. Luxurious. Immaculate. And transparently expensive.
Not to mention one hundred percent impractical.
Well…except for the fact that it was perfectly capable of providing him with a ride back to the motel.
But, other than that, it was a complete piece of shit. Designed solely to impress people. To accentuate just how affluent the owner of the vehicle was. How important he was. Or, more accurately, how important he thought he was. How he was so much better than the rest of society. And his car proved it.
Whatever.
It still suited John's purposes.
He climbed into the car and adjusted the seat. Inserted the key into the ignition and put the car into drive. Left the parking lot and headed toward the hotel.
No problem.
Even a lowlife idiot like him could figure out how to drive an overly-pretentious vehicle like this. Too bad he'd never be able to tell that to Greg Leavey. Might actually knock him down a notch or two. Pull him back to reality.
But, then again, probably not.
The man had his head so far up his ass that he'd never get it out. So John would just have to satisfy himself with the fact that he'd managed to steal the pompous ass's vehicle. Which would have to be contrary to every security and safety feature the salesman had rhymed off as a selling point when he'd sold him the vehicle. Telling him how the car couldn't be hotwired and he'd never have to worry about theft.
Of course, he'd probably never considered the fact that the man was such an unlikable dipstick that he'd actually managed to get himself knocked out and had his keys lifted right out of his pocket. But that scenario wouldn't have been covered by the sales manual. And no one would ever have warned him.
Not that he'd have believed it anyway.
And the truth was that the car had been as easy to steal as taking candy from a baby. Which is more or less all that John had done…
He pulled up to the motel just as the first rays of daylight washed over the horizon. Which meant that there wouldn't be any more Aswang attacks until after the sun set tonight. And then he was pretty sure that all hell was going to break loose.
As he pulled the car into the vacant spot in front of their room, John glanced around, noticing instantly that there were no unfamiliar cars parked in the parking lot. Every single vehicle pulled up to the front of the motel was one that John recognized as belonging to one of the other patrons of this fine establishment.
And that stuck him as rather odd.
And a bit disturbing too.
Because there should be at least one car that John didn't recognize. One car that didn't belong. And that car should be the one that his oldest son had used to get both himself and Sammy back to the motel.
Only there wasn't one.
John wasn't sure whether he should be concerned or worried.
Or just plain pissed off.
Maybe Dean had simply parked it a couple of blocks away and he and Sammy had walked the rest of the way to the motel. But, even as that thought crossed his mind, John didn't think that was very likely. Dean didn't walk anywhere. Not if he had a choice. And Sammy had been hurt. And extremely tired. And Dean knew that. Hell…Dean had even risked getting into a physical altercation with him over his brother's condition. And, under normal circumstances there was no way in hell that Dean would even think about challenging him. But circumstances had been anything but normal and Dean had overstepped his bounds. But there was still no way he would have expected Sammy to walk even half a block to the motel.
Not with how fiercely protective he was of his brother.
So, changes were that Dean had simply chosen to ignore him about staying in the motel. No doubt deciding that he had to get rid of the car as soon as he possibly could. Move it so that it wasn't sitting outside the motel room for everyone to see. And that's why there was no extra vehicle in the parking lot.
Annoyed that his son would once again defy him, John threw the car into park with an exasperated flourish and hastily exited the vehicle. He marched up to their room, grabbed the door handle and turned it vigorously so he could go inside. Except the door didn't open because it was locked.
And he didn't have his key.
The realization that he didn't have his key – or his truck, his weapons, his journal, anything of any importance – caused John to slam his fist heavily into the door. Which made the door jump viciously on its hinges.
He hit it so hard that he scared the crap out of himself.
And, based on the sounds emanating from inside the room, scared the crap out of whoever was inside too.
"Sammy! Let me in!" he barked, just barely keeping his voice below a low roar.
A moment later, John saw the curtain on the window beside the door move. It was Sammy, checking outside to make sure everything was okay before he actually opened the door. Making sure the interloper at the door was really who he claimed to be.
So he was a smart kid.
At least one of his children didn't go out of his way to piss him off every chance he had. Because he was plenty pissed off already. Not to mention tired. And sore.
John heard the chain on the safety latch slide open and the door unlock. But to his amazement, the door didn't open. Instead, John heard his youngest son tell him he could come in from further inside the room. He'd unlocked the door and moved back into the safety of the room. Back to where he'd be protected by the ring of salt.
Which proved once again that he was a really smart kid.
John opened the door and walked in. One quick look around and he verified that Sam was indeed alone. There was no sign of Dean anywhere.
Feeling his anger rising again, John asked harshly, "Where's your brother?"
"I dunno" shrugged Sam sleepily, "He left about half an hour ago. I haven't seen him since."
"Where'd he go?"
Like he didn't already know the answer to that question.
"To move the car."
"Didn't he hear me tell him to stay here until I got back?" snapped John angrily, even though he knew that he was directing his anger at the wrong person.
"I dunno, Dad," came Sam's sullen reply. "I was tired and I went to bed as soon as we got back. I watched Dean redraw the salt lines to protect the room and then I fell asleep. I don't really know why he left."
"Then why did you tell me he went to move the car?" asked John, pointing out the lie that Sam had caught himself in.
Sam sighed. "I woke up just as he was leaving. I heard the door unlock and I thought it was you. But it was him going out. I asked him where he was going and he said he had to move the car. I told him we were supposed to wait for you but he didn't seem to care and he left anyway."
With no means to properly alleviate his anger, John shook his head and took a deep breath to calm himself. There was no point taking it out on Sammy. Especially when he'd known it was going to happen like this anyway. He'd known all along that Dean wasn't going to stay in the room. It had been pretty much a foregone conclusion that Dean would ensure that his brother was safely secured inside the motel room and then he'd go back out and dispose of the car.
Because, with a tinge of dread, John realized that was exactly what he would have done. And the older Dean got, the more he became like him. Thought like him and acted like him. Right up to the recklessness, sarcasm and insolence. John had taught him well.
And Dean had been a willing pupil.
John stared at his youngest son still standing in the middle of the room. Standing there and waiting for him to tell him what to do. Like a good little soldier. Or an exhausted teenager.
"Go back to bed, Sammy."
Sam nodded slightly before he turned and went back to the bed. John was pretty sure he was asleep before his head even hit the pillow. John stood and watched him for a minute. Then he decided that the best thing for him to do would be to go and get rid of Greg Leavey's car. Before someone saw it sitting outside and recognized it.
But before he left the room, John double-checked all the lines of salt protecting the various entry points throughout the room. And he even had to admit that Dean had done an extremely good job. Nothing supernatural was going to get inside this room.
Slipping quietly outside, John got back into the deputy-mayor's car and drove cautiously out of the parking lot. Mindful that Greg Leavey had no doubt woken up by now and had alerted the sheriff's office about the assault, John pulled onto the first sidestreet he came to. Then he turned onto the next street and the next one until he was finally satisfied that he was far enough away from the motel for anyone to put two and two together and connect him to the theft.
Except maybe for Sheriff Durham.
But John wasn't overly worried about him. As long as he didn't make it obvious that he had been responsible for the theft of Greg Leavey's vehicle, John was pretty sure the sheriff wouldn't work too hard to tie him to it. Not with everything else that the man had been willing to do for him. And how much he seemed to hate Greg Leavey.
John scanned the neighborhood before he set about wiping down the interior of the vehicle. Then he took the keys out of the ignition and wiped them down before he tossed them underneath the floor mat. There was no point in leaving the keys in the ignition for someone else to come upon it and steal the car. Although that would be a satisfying touch, John knew that it would only incite the deputy-mayor more than he already was and he'd be even more intent on seeking revenge. And that revenge would all be directed at him and his sons.
So, the best thing to do would be to leave the car safe and sound on some sidestreet, just waiting for someone to find it. So they could give it back to its useless owner and let him go merrily on his way. At least as far as his vehicle was concerned. Because he'd still be fuming about the fact that John had decked him and simply walked away. And he'd be pushing the sheriff to charge him with that. So there was no point making it worse.
His task completed, John took one last look around the neighborhood before he got out of the car and wiped down the exterior of the driver's door. Then he set off in a slow run back toward the motel.
And he didn't even sense the sinister figure that had been mirroring his movements from the moment he stepped out of the motel…
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Dean drove the car down the road a couple of blocks before he turned onto a residential street. Well…calling it residential was kind of like calling the motel they were staying in the Hilton. But, there were houses on it. If you could call them that. Because they were more like sheds that someone had decided would be acceptable to live in. But it was probably as good a place as any to dump the car. And the unsavory characteristics of the local populace would help draw attention away for him.
Which was always a good thing.
Especially with the way things were going in this town.
So Dean drove the car deeper into the dilapidated district. By the time he had reached an area where he felt comfortable leaving the car, he realized that he was probably a good mile from the motel. If not further. But that didn't really bother him. Other than the fact that it would take him at least fifteen minutes to get back. And that was before he wiped down the car.
It wasn't the time it was going to take to get back to the motel that bothered Dean. It was the fact that Sammy would be left all alone during that time that left him second-guessing his decision to leave the car so far away. As he debated whether or not he should take the car closer, Dean realized he was just wasting time. Time that could be better spent actually doing something.
So he hastily obliterated all his fingerprints, even wiping the cloth across the ignition wires he had pulled out of the dashboard to get the car started. Because you just never knew how crafty police investigators could get. Even in a small town. Satisfied that he had removed any trace that he had been inside the vehicle, Dean got out and glanced up and down the road before he started back towards the motel.
As Dean raced through the decrepit area, he came across a park. Or at least it looked like it had been a park. A long time ago. A park that had been abandoned and turned into the neighborhood trash heap more than a few years ago. But, realizing that he'd shave a few minutes off his return time, Dean decided to cut through the crude dump. But cutting through the rubbish and out of control undergrowth was like cutting through a maze. And just as difficult. Because, as he dodged rusted appliances, rotting bags of garbage, broken bottles and various other discarded items, he could barely keep track of the direction he was actually heading.
But with the skill of a seasoned navigator, he managed to maintain his course through the unkempt field. He was almost clear of the junkyard when he heard the unmistakable sound of a branch breaking directly behind him…
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Sheriff Durham had gone back to the station to question his deputy and find out who the drunk was that he had brought in. When he arrived, he was more than a little surprised to discover that the deputy wasn't there. In fact, there was no one there. The station had been abandoned. And the front door had been left unlocked.
Sheriff Durham cautiously searched the station for any signs of foul play. But there was nothing. Nothing to give him cause for concern. And nothing to explain why his deputy had abandoned his post.
Hoping that the deputy had followed procedure when he brought the drunk in, Sheriff Durham went behind the desk to check out the dispatch sheet. And to find whatever notes the deputy would have written that detailed the quarantine of the drunk. But once again, he found nothing. Not even a scribble on a notepad to indicate that someone had called and alerted them to the drunk.
So how had the deputy found the man? Surely he hadn't just wandered into the station by himself?
But, then again, he hadn't really been a man. And in all probability, he had purposely come into the station looking for Dean. So maybe he had walked past the station and the deputy had simply seen him from the window. Then he'd gone outside and nabbed him for being drunk in a public place. That would explain why there was no record of anyone calling it in.
But it didn't explain what had happened to his deputy.
So the sheriff reached over to grab the radio. He clicked the button down and called, "Base to Unit 2-2. Come in."
But there was no response. Not even the familiar sound of static that usually emanated from the radio as it sat idle between transmissions. That's when the sheriff noticed that the machine had been unplugged. And that the wires had been ripped out of the back of the machine.
Which Rendered the device completely useless.
Reaching for his own portable radio, the sheriff once again surveyed the entire station. Something was going on. Something wasn't right. He knew that. He just didn't know what it was.
Bringing the radio up to his mouth, Sheriff Durham turned to lean against the desk and he was startled by the unexpected appearance of his deputy. But more unnerving than the deputy's sudden manifestation was the malevolent grin on his face.
Not to mention the unnatural yellow glow of the man's eyes …
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He had remained hidden for most of the night. Waiting. Because he knew they would eventually return. All he had to do was wait. And about an hour before daylight his patience had been rewarded. Two of them had returned. But still he had remained hidden. Concealed in the shadows. Because the time wasn't right. The trap wasn't set.
At least not yet.
He had watched as the two of them argued before they entered their dwelling. Watched as they shut the door behind them. Closing out the danger. And locking themselves safely inside their sanctuary.
Or so they thought.
But he would wait a little longer. He had nothing to lose. Not by waiting.
In fact, he had everything to gain.
So he waited some more. And watched as the oldest one of the two left again. Got back into the flashy vehicle and drove away.
Leaving the youngest one alone. And vulnerable.
And still he waited. He waited until he saw the father come back.
Now it was only a matter of time. Then they would strike. All of them together. Each of them focused on a single prey.
And the plan would be put into motion. And this plan was flawless. There was absolutely no chance it could fail. Not this plan. Not this time.
So he continued to wait. Until he saw the hunter leave again. And as he watched the family patriarch drive carelessly away, he smiled knowingly to himself. Because he knew that it was time.
And he would finally get what he had come for…