Hey, so after yet another mega-crappy week here's another chapter. Let me know what you think =]

I don't own Supernatural.

Chapter 4

The following morning, after a slice of toast and steaming hot mug of coffee, I sat down with my laptop and began trawling through various newspapers for a possible hunt. By the time I'd drained the last few cold mouthfuls of coffee from my second cup I'd found nothing. Sure there were the usual murders and crimes but nothing stood out screaming 'I'm Supernatural come and kill me' not that it ever did that in the first place. If it did it would sure as hell make all our lives a lot easier. I contemplated a third cup of coffee but in the space of an hour and half that didn't seem like the healthy option. I abandoned the coffee idea in favour of a very bland glass of water. Filling a glass up from the draining board I caught site of Bobby and Dean under the hood of a car I assumed would be mine. It was a battered old red mustang that had seen better days but I wasn't complaining. They were fixing it so that it at least started for me. Who was I to complain? I was just happy that it was red again and had the possibility of going faster than my old truck.

Taking a break from my thus far unproductive research I wondered into Bobby's study where Sam was sat behind the desk hidden behind a pile of dust ridden leather bound books. "How's it going?" I asked as I perched on the side of the desk. Sam had spent all morning looking for a loophole for Dean but had yet to turn up something useful.

"Same old," he replied, somewhat fed up. I couldn't blame him, "found anything yet?"

I shook my head and with a sad smile picked up a book from the top of the pile. Helping Sam was a welcomed change; I couldn't get enough of the old books that Bobby had stacked everywhere. This particular book was packed with all sorts of dark twisted Witchcraft that I couldn't even begin to understand. Never in my hunting career had I come across a witch and if this is what they did then I never wanted to come across one.

Mid way through the book there was mention of Demons' but none of it seemed relevant unless, overnight one of us was going to become and expert in Witchcraft. As fascinating as it looked I wouldn't touch that with a ten foot pole. I could see, flipping yet another page of the book, why Sam could spend hours trawling through these books, never did you come across the same thing twice.

I flicked through, until I reached the end of the book, at which point I set it back on the pile for Sam to look through properly, I didn't want to mix up his system. Leaving Sam to it I returned to my laptop and dragged up yet another newspaper website. "Alice!" I'd barely sat back at the kitchen table when Dean called me from outside. Reluctantly I pulled on my coat and headed outside, "Alice!" he shouted again and they thought I was the impatient one.

"Hold your horses!" I shouted back as I closed the door behind me.

Bobby and Dean had finished with the car and I was more than impressed. It had scrubbed up well, Bobby held out the keys for me to take. I wasted no time at all in hoping in the front seat and starting the engine. Excellent. Finally I could sit behind the wheel of a car again. "Thank you guys," I grinned like a child at Christmas. This was beyond brilliant. Not really sharing in my enthusiasm Bobby returned indoors and Dean buried himself beneath the hood of his beloved Impala. With a new found freedom I dashed inside to where Sam was still buried in the book I'd left him reading. "Grab your jacket, we're going out," I walked away so that he wouldn't have time to protest.

"Nice," Sam said as he stepped outside seeing the car for the first time.

"Isn't it just," I replied turning the ignition. I sped away from Bobby's towards the town. If I was going out on my own I needed to get a few bits and pieces. I pulled into the grocery store and picked up everything I needed, Sam didn't appear to impressed that I'd dragged him away from his research to go grocery shopping but he'd get over it. With the groceries packed away in the car we called in at a coffee shop and got two take out coffees.

Sipping out hot coffee's we strolled down the pavement. Sam may not have showed it but I could tell that he had been grateful for the short break and chance to escape. Hopefully it would give us both a fresh mind for returning to our research.

Whilst we were out I'd bought some beers as a way of saying thank you to Bobby and Dean. "How was it to drive?" Dean asked, opening his beer.

"It was like driving the Impala," I replied not realising what I'd said. As I caught the look on Dean's face and Sam hiding a smile I clamped a hand over my mouth, oops.

Dean narrowed his eyes and looked between Sam and I, "how would you know what that was like?"

"Errrrm," I stalled trying to think of something, "I don't, I was just hazarding a guess."

"Sam, is there something you wish to tell me?" Dean really wasn't all that impressed. I mouthed a sorry to Sam and snuck out of the kitchen to give Bobby, who had now taken up residence in his study for the night, a bottle of beer.

For the rest of the evening I sat in the kitchen with Sam, away from Dean who was in the living room flicking though television channels with one of Bobby's intriguing books on his lap. We hadn't dared sit in the same room as Dean, he was still fuming that Sam had let me drive the Impala. I did try telling him that it was only once and that no harm was done but he just wouldn't hear it. "He'll snap out of it tomorrow," Sam said as he sipped from his beer bottle.

"Hope so," I mumbled more for Sam's sake than mine. I could at least escape Dean in my mustang, Sam couldn't. "Sam?" I dragged his attention from his book to my laptop screen. "I think I've found a hunt." It certainly looked like a hunt. I shifted a little so that Sam could read the article I'd pulled up on my screen. In Douglas, Wyoming there had been five deaths over the last week or so. How on earth did I manage to miss this before? Reading through the article I'd discovered that every body had been mutilated brutally by what looked like an animal in the middle of the night as whoever it was that now had their light snuffed out slept peacefully in their beds. "Werewolf?" I suggested.

"I don't think so, the lunar cycles aren't right," he replied. I had to think for a second trying to work the lunar cycle out in my mind but I was too rusty at remembering dates so I took Sam's word for it.

"It says here that the bodies showed signs of being bitten," I read the article aloud, "If it isn't a werewolf then what is it?" Now that was a worrying thought.

"I have no idea," Sam replied. We ran the case by Bobby and Dean and like us their immediate thought was werewolf.

"Windego?" Dean suggested. I'd heard of them but had yet to come across one.

"Not likely," Bobby replied.

Not getting any answers from either of the two Winchesters' or Bobby really but a negative spin on the start of my hunt. I had to prove, once again, that I could do this alone, that I didn't need to keep sponging off of any of them.

"Never mind," I was determined to stay positive, "I'll just head over to Douglas and see what I can find." We needed or rather I needed more information and the only way I could get that was to go straight to the scene.

It was already late evening so by the time I'd packed my bags into my car it was midnight. The sooner I got on the road the easier it would be. Good byes just weren't my thing and the last thing I needed was to have second thoughts about going it alone again.

I said good bye to Dean and Bobby who were sat around yet another pile of books and let Sam walk me out. Neither of us said anything, putting of the inevitable good bye. We both knew that once I'd finished this hunt, providing another one didn't turn up, I would be back at Bobby's. It would be a few days at most. "So," I inwardly cringed, so? Was that really all I had to say?

"So," Sam replied, there we go again putting off saying good bye.

I mustered up a smile, "So, I'll see you in a few days."

"Yeah, call me when you get there," Sam brushed the stray hair from my pony tail behind my ear.

"Promise, good bye Sam," I kissed him one last time, committing every detail to memory.

"Bye Alice," he replied. As I drove off I watched him wave from the rear view mirror. Knowing that I would see him in a day or two I turned my mind to the job at hand and hit the gas pedal, after so long in the backseat of the Impala driving on my own was pure heaven. I flicked on the radio and settled down for the long drive on the dark empty highway.

By dawn I was in Douglas. The town was still asleep so I pulled into the first motel I drove past and tried to get a room. Thankfully, the lady behind the counter took pity on me and let me have a room early. Exhausted form my sleepless night I crashed out on the bed for a few hours kip after phoning Sam to let him know I'd arrived and thus far safe and sound.

Mid morning arrived and I found myself in a coffee shop browsing through the local paper. There had already been another 'mysterious' death during the night and still no explanation. I had been hoping that something might have cropped up further into the paper that might help but had no luck at all. It was still early days but I couldn't help but want to have the case solved with the click of my fingers. I had to prove to Sam and to Dean that I definitely could hunt alone. Downing the dregs of my coffee I grabbed my laptop bag and headed for the local library to use their free wi-fi and start my research.

With a pen and fresh sheet of paper I began my brain storm, all the while eyeing the librarians steaming hot cup of coffee. Apparently she was above taking notice of the no food and drink sign, I would kill for another cup of coffee to keep me awake. As a way of starting my research I did what any self respecting person does, I hit Wikipedia because it's just so damn reliable. Yeah right, I wish.

The Wikipedia page for the Douglas was nothing too special, I'd managed to discover that it had been voted as one of the top 100 small towns in America, not that knowing that would help. It was just yet another useless piece of trivia. Reading on I found something that spiked my interest. A local legend about a Jackalope. Maybe some giant deer-rabbit was munching on people as they slept. It was certainly worth considering despite how ludicrous it was.

Sam called as I was on my way to the recent scene of the recent death in the afternoon. "How's it going?" he asked.

"Great," I wasn't going to tell him that I'd yet to find a so called suspect.

"So you'll be back pretty soon," Sam sounded hopeful over the phone.

"Fingers crosses," I replied, "Sam, if I said Jackalope to you would that mean anything?"

There was silence for a moment, then I heard him shout to Dean, "Dean! Ever heard of a Jackalope?"

"Yeah isn't that the spawn of Bugs Bunny and Bambi," I heard Dean reply faintly over the phone.

"It's just a folk legend," Sam finally had a response, "you don't think its real do you?"

"Stranger things have happened," I answered. I ended the call with Sam and pulled over outside the apartment building the latest victim lived in.

"Special Agent Austen," I flashed my badge at an officer stood outside the main door. One of the best things about travelling with Sam and Dean was my snazzy new fake FBI badge, something I'd envied ever since the Shapeshifter case.

The officer stepped aside and I swiftly walked past not wanting to rouse suspicion of any kind. I certainly wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted me, I knew it would be gruesome but this was beyond gruesome. The bed sheets were stained with blood and still held a matted chunk of hair to add to that the wooden floor still had a sticky red puddle of the stuff. A few centimetres away from the puddle were a few grains of sand. The FBI probably thought that it was just dirt and didn't think too much of it but I couldn't stop myself from thinking otherwise. With a quick glance over my shoulder to see if anyone was looking I brushed a few specks of sand onto a piece of paper in my pocket. I folded the paper to keep the sand in place and gently placed it in my coat pocket so I could get a better look at it later.

"Where was the body taken?" I asked a nearby officer, hoping that I sounded authoritarian enough. I'd discovered that I was better as this kind of acting than the acting that involved having sympathy with victims. The emotional crap just wasn't my thing at least not outside of my head at least.

"Local hospital," the officer replied instantly, at least he was fooled into thinking I meant business. I thanked him and headed back out to my car. Next stop, hospital morgue.

I had to keep reminding myself that 'It's just a mass of flash and bones, like road kill' instead of 'that used to be living person' so that I could pull of the confident FBI agent I wasn't.

The body was, well let's just say that had the file not held a picture I wouldn't have known it was a human being at all. "Any idea what might have caused this?" I asked the elderly mortician as I eyed the prominent teeth marks on what was left of a rib. Apparently someone or something had been very hungry. The skull had been the more intact body part; it was still scratched and bloody but was mostly in one piece just minus a set of eyes. Poor guy, it obviously wasn't a quick and painless death.

"None at all, never in my entire career have I seen something like this. It's the stuff of horror films," he answered completely right, this was the sort of thing that came straight out a horror movie.

I left the morgue none the wiser and returned to the library until it closed. If only the motel had wi-fi. Having seen the dead body and found the sand near the bed I typed a search into Google for dead body, bed and sand. The first hit that popped up was a page about the Sandman. No way. Absolutely not. This could not and would not be a sandman. He was the stuff of children's stories, told by parents to make kids sleep. For one the victims had all been adults. Despite my refusal to believe I was still intrigued by the web page and to settle my curiosity I had a quick glance.

Clicking back I went to the next option down, Sandman again and the one after that. I tried a different search, in the local newspaper archives for any similar deaths in the past but nothing came up. There'd been an odd murder but they were a stabbing and a gun shot wound, no mention of cannibalism. I returned, after my unsuccessful trawl through the archives, to my internet search. This time for local legends, I was determined to rule out the Jackalope as the culprit. It didn't explain the sand, unless it was just dirt. I had no way of knowing if that little bit of sand had been present next to the other victims' deaths.

Once back at the motel I took a shower and tried to reflect on everything that I'd read so that I could get everything in order for when I phoned Sam. No matter how hard I tried to think otherwise all my mind kept screaming at me was the word Sandman over and over again. The more I thought about the more I felt that it was maybe true. Guess that meant a sleepless night for me. I wasn't exactly up for the Sandman inviting himself into my room to have a little munch on an arm or a leg. As a precautionary measure I kept a hold of my gun for the majority of the evening.

"What do you know about the Sandman?" I asked Sam, wanting his opinion as I phoned him after explaining about the bodies.

"A children's story," he replied deep in though, "but judging by the evidence you've got it could well be true. I groaned really not liking his answer.

"Yeah but a Sandman? Come on," I was still dubious to believe it.

"I'll get Bobby onto it, maybe there's something in one of his books," He said as way of reply. I didn't want to cause any trouble for Bobby, he'd already done enough giving me the car but I needed someone with experience to confirm my suspicions. By now the Jackalope was completely forgotten. I said good bye to Sam and returned to my bed with my laptop to reread all the information I'd saved on the Sandman.

'… a giving character in popular Western folklore who brings good sleep and dreams by sprinkling magic sand on to the eyes' Yeah right, a giving character he was taking peoples lives for crying out loud.

'There is also another creature bearing the name "Sandman", but this creature is very different. Its skin is that of a dead person, decayed and discoloured. It has very long fingers and many sharp teeth. It hides just out of sight in the dark and whispers "tic toc, tic toc" to its unlucky victim. This strange chant quickly puts the victim into a deep sleep. Once asleep, the Sandman will come out of hiding and devour the sleeping victim with its sharp teeth. It only needs to feast once per night, but it will sometimes choose to kill for fun. This creature can only come out in the dark. It is said to be the evil brother of the good sandman, but some people disagree.' Well that certainly sounded more like it. Excellent, the Sandman's evil twin.

I read another article, 'throws a handful of sand into their eyes, so that they start out bleeding from their heads. He puts their eyes in a bag and carries them to the crescent moon to feed his own children, who sit in the nest up there,' as crazy as the living on the moon bit sounded the eye bit was certainly believable. That guy currently taking a permanent holiday in a fridge that I'd seen at the morgue didn't have any eyes. What other explanation did I have?

By the end of my first day in Douglas I already had some inclination at who the culprit was. That was the easy part done, the tricky part was stopping it but I could do it. I just had to think positively and under no circumstances call Sam asked them to come and help.