A lot of JJ's methods for tracking the Winchesters were based on unconfirmed theories that she had collected from studying their case.
It was not always possible to determine where the brothers would sleep each night, though they had brought her to an abandon cabin, there had been reports suggesting they preferred motels and squatting in vacant houses. Motels offered the easiest way of tracking them.
The key aspect that made the brothers motel visits easier to track was the simplest answer- motels provided a paper trail. Even if Sam and Dean paid in cash often a credit card would have to be shown, in the event damage was done to the room, or at the very least a signature was needed before the desk clerk would offer them a room.
Of course the brothers made things difficult by using fake ID's, but that did not make it impossible for JJ to make an educated guess on where they stayed when in town.
When JJ was studying the Winchesters movements she learned the way every profiler did- by studying old cases. After determining if an incident fit the Winchester's m.o JJ began her investigation by looking at the local newspapers (learning to identify what had drew the Winchester's to each town came later. Her first priority was learning what they did and where they stayed when they got there). If there were multiple listings of houses for sale, or articles on new subdivisions being built, then JJ would have to look for a new case to learn from, because it was more then likely the brothers hid in one of the empty houses and would not have left any trail for her to study.
If by chance the location did not give the brothers that option, JJ began looking into each motel. She would have every manger fax her a copy of their gust book during the time she believe the Winchesters to be present.
Using the assumption that Sam and Dean would stick to their pattern of rock allies JJ was able to pin point which guest was likely the brothers. It was then she learned something interesting.
The rooms that they chose were not picked at random. If they could help it the brothers would often stay in a room at the far end of the motel, a location that isolated them from other guest. This could have been another countermeasure to keep their identity a secret, or perhaps it was a form of protection. In the brother's minds they were hunting monsters and trying to protect normal humans, so it made sense that they would want to keep monsters who could have follow them back to their rooms away from other guest.
They often picked older motels; ones without security cameras and less frequent to visitors in favour of newer more accommodating motels. There also seemed to be a correlation between the motels they chose and it's distance from the highway. They seemed to prefer locations that offered quick getaways rather then ones that needed several side roads to make an escape.
This particular town had many motels, but only three fit the Winchesters preference, which is why JJ found it strange when nether of the brothers were staying at any of them.
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"This is where they would have stayed." JJ insisted as Derek pulled the SUV out of the motel parking lot. "Maybe they are on to us and are changing their pattern." She added more to herself then him.
"Maybe." Derek agreed, but truthfully he was starting the doubt if they were going to be able to uses any profile- or rely on any of the Winchesters patterns in order to track them. Usually when the team were hunting an unsub each profile was backed up with known statistics, and behavioural data. The Winchesters were all over the map when it came to their profile and JJ's research was still untested.
"They are in town, and for the time being they can't leave." Derek reminded her when JJ started to fidget anxiously in her seat. "We've got their pictures sent to each road block and officers going door to door. We will find them."
"Did Garcia have any luck finding their car?" JJ asked hopefully. She knew it was a long shot for her to find the impala in and traffic cameras, or written up for parking ticket, but she also knew that if they found the car then they would find Sam and Dean.
"Not yet." Derek answered but was cut off when his phone buzzed in his pocket. "Speak of the devil. What do got for us mama?" He asked with a mixture of seriousness and the joking flirtation reserved for only Penelope Garcia.
"Well I couldn't find anything on a 67 Impala, but I was able to find report filed about a teenager breaking into cars at different diners and motels." Garcia explained.
"And that helps us how?" Derek questioned.
"Because Angel face, said hoodlum was arrested and confessed to breaking into six different car belonging to tourist but only five people have made a report. Now tell me, if your car was broken into and your stuff stolen why wouldn't you call the police?" Garcia asked knowingly.
"Because you're on the run from the police." Derek answered before looking over at JJ. "It's a bit of a long shot-"
"It's the best lead we've got." JJ interrupted. "Is the kid still in holding?"
"He is waiting for his parental units to pick him up as we speak." Garcia answered.
...
By some strange luck the teenage boy, a local kid known for getting into trouble, remembered breaking into the black impala and running away as the owner chased after him.
The brothers we're no longer at that motel but now JJ felt that they were making progress in finding them.
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Dumping the stolen effects onto the police station table JJ and Derek began sorting through the Winchesters belongings to see it they could find anything.
"I've got a gun." Derek said as he pulled a beretta 92 from between two hastily folded plaid shirts. "Looks like a nine millimetre, and it's fully loaded." He added.
"It's a good thing the kid didn't break into the trunk." JJ said not liking the idea of a sixteen year old getting his hands on the arsenal that was likely stored in the back of the Impala.
"You're telling me. Back home-"
JJ didn't hear the rest of Derek's story her focus was instantly on the object concealed in an orange plaid shirt. It had been at the bottom of the bag- meaning it was likely the first thing that one of the brothers had packed.
"Derek I think I have something." JJ said intensely as she lifted a leather bound journal for him to see.
It was old, the once premium leather had faded but the journal itself had been well taken care of. Numerous notes had been made; news clippings and drawings filled the pages.
"What is it?" Derek asked as he moved around the table to look at it with her.
"I'm not sure." JJ whispered as she skimmed over a few of the documents in the middle of the book. As she read it became clear what the journal was.
The page contained information on a specific creature that JJ had a great deal of information on. The Wendigo. It had been the creature that Sam and Dean had believed to be hunting when they kidnapped her; it seemed fit that it would be the creature JJ started studying.
The page described author's knowledge of the creature. All the information was inscribed in small handwriting, along with a small drawing and Anasazi symbols that the creature was not meant to be able to cross.
The rest of the book seemed to have a scattered organization system, as if the author was making notes and adding information as he learned about different supernatural creatures.
"Is this what I think it is?" Derek questioned. "It's the lore the brothers have been using." He added staring at the book as if it was the Holy Grail.
This was more then a break through in the case. With so many legends and believes in different cultures about supernatural creatures no one knew what exactly the Winchesters believed- until now. This journal would allow them to construct a complete profile of the Winchesters.
"Who wrote it? Dean?" Derek asked as JJ flipped to the first page.
"No, it belongs to John." JJ stated in a low whisper as she carefully ran her fingers down the length of the pages. Touching it gently as if it would fall apart in her hands.
"November 6, 1983
"I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don't believe it. Last week, we were a normal family… eating dinner, going to Dean's T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… when I try to think back, get it straight in my head… I feel like I'm going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out… I'm wandering around, alone and lost and I can't do anything.
"Mary used to write in these books she kept by the bed. She said it helped her remember all the little things, about the boys, me… I wish I could read her journals, but like everything else, they're gone. Burned into nothing. She always wanted me to try writing things down. Maybe she's right, maybe it will help me to remember, to understand."
JJ's voice was surprisingly even as she read the words of the heartbroken man who would one day transform into a vengeful criminal.
"That was before he believed a demon killed his wife." Derek stated mournfully. To think if there hadn't been a house fire that night, then everything that John, Sam and Dean did would never have ever taken place.
"He was in so much pain." JJ said quietly as she continued to read over the entries in the beginning of the journal. "Raising the two boys, and having no idea about what really happened to his wife. It's not surprising he invented the delusion of a demon."
It was all here. The trouble he had with police, who accused him of starting the fire, isolating himself from friends, never letting his sons out of sight, the spiralling alcohol addiction, and the paranoia.
...
Derek left JJ alone to study the journal for a while. It had become clear anything that he said would not break through her concentration.
She was looking through the book with an almost hypnotized state. Ever since they had left her in that hospital parking lot three months ago, Kansas license plates fading off into the distance, JJ could not shake the feeling that she had been missing something. It was like there was something huge and important on the sidelines that she couldn't see, but holding this book was like she had found a big piece of the puzzle.
Derek however, did not understand why she had become so obsessed with the brothers. He suspected it was because they were the ones who got away. Incorrectly labeling them with the likes of Carl Buford, Ian Doyle, and George Foyet, men who had become more then unsubs to specific members of the team. They had transformed themselves into monsters that hurt them more than anyone.
Derek remembered Carl Buford to this day; he still carried a coin to serve as a form of strength. But unlike the monsters that hurt him, Hotch, and Emily, the monsters who hurt JJ were still alive walking around.
Derek assumed that JJ was still haunted by what happened to her at that cabin, traumatized by what the Winchesters did to her, and he feared what she wouldn't tell him about what happened to her. He thought she still looked over her shoulder in fear of the two brothers- but that couldn't be further from the truth.
JJ knew that the brothers weren't monsters. They werent driven by the common motives that most unsubs were, sexual gratification, power, money, control, or revenge meant nothing to them.
"I don't get it." Derek said as he came back into the room to look through the journal with JJ, inwardly flinching at the badly drawn drawing of monsters and satanic symbols.
"What?" JJ asked looking up from the pages.
"These guys, psychotic delusion or not how could anyone do this to another human being. They have decapitated people thinking they are vampires, shot people with silver bullets because they thought they were werewolves. They must really hate monsters to be doing this for as long as they have. Who knows how many generations this spans." Derek said, almost rambling to himself.
"It's not about hating monsters." JJ said seriously. "I've been working on their profile, I know how these guys think and they don't do it because they hate monsters. This started out as a revenge killing, hunting the demon that they believed killed their mother but it's evolved from that."
"Then what is it about?" Derek asked.
"It's about people, the people they believe they are saving from the monsters. The delusion they are under forces them to be on the run, assume new identities, work long hours for no pay or gratitude. They know the authorities are after them, and are closing in like a noose around their neck, but they don't stop hunting. Why do you think that is?" JJ did her best to explained why the brothers thought process but she had a feeling Derek wouldn't be able to understand it right away, it had taken her weeks to finally make any sense of their actions.
"Because they think the good they are doing, protecting people they view as innocent." Derek answered, earning a smile and a nodded from JJ.
"That is how they justify their lives. The alcoholism, the running, the collateral damage, all the pain and suffering that the cause and endure. What gets them through each day is believing that the people they saved are alive because of them." She added.
"So we have two co-dependent men, suffering from a serious delusion and trauma since childhood. Suffer from chronic alcoholism, and have a hero complex on top of all that." Derek summarised.
"That's right." JJ nodded.
...
"I can't believe this!" Dean shouted as they threw their bags onto the motel mattress.
"Dean calm down." Sam said trying to keep his voice stern yet calm as his brother was on the verge of a panic attack.
"Calm down how can I calm down?" Dean shouted as he threw his hands up into the air. "My baby got her windows smash, dad's journal along with our stuff is gone, Lilith is coming, the bridge is still out, and we have the fbi breathing own our necks. Tell me what part of any of that should make me calm down!" He rambled before taking a deep wheezy breath.
"We'll figure this out we always do." Sam said reassuringly but it did little to comfort him.
"I got a better idea I'm going to the source of all this." Dean said seriously as he turned away from his brother and marched out of the motel room. Dean prayed that the hex bags in the apartment would keep Lilith away until he got this mess sorted out.
Pulling the impala out of the parking lot Dean speeded down the dusty road, visibly fuming as the tarp covering the rear window of the impala, flapping like the wings of a crow.
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Chuck Shurley's life had been average. He was nothing special, just a regular guy who sometimes would get painful headaches. The headaches would then become migraines, untempered by aspirin or over the counter medication, and the only thing that offered any relief was alcohol.
He would drink until he passed out, and for a moment the pain in his head would be replaced with visions of two boys. At first Chuck thought it was just a random dream brought on by to much to drink and late night horror movies, but something compelled him to start writing about the two brothers from his dream.
Once he tried adding to the story, but found himself unable to write anything that did not happen in his dream precisely as he saw it.
After some time he had enough transcribed to publish his first book and begin his career as author of the low selling 'Supernatural' series. It was nothing glamorous, and his life had not changed in terms of his drinking or social components but he lived a comfortable life.
All that had changed when the characters from his book showed up at his door.
Chuck sighed heavily as he made his way from his old typewriter to the fridge, old housecoat dragging behind him. He remembered the horror of the boys' lives, the monsters, and the fire.
"This was so much easier when you guys weren't real." Chuck whispered as he opened the fridge, planning to prepare for the next chapter to reveal itself only to find the shelves empty.
Deciding to go make a quick shopping run Chuck threw on a green hoodie and left the house, all the while his mind worried about what he would see to night.
.
Having gotten what he needed Chuck returned to his house, the fresh air did not lift his spirits, as it would have the day before.
Carrying a bottle in a brown bag, and six-pack of cans, Chuck unlocked the front door to his house and walked inside. He walks in slowly, not feeling the need to rush the inevitable, but when he reached his study he realized he wasn't alone.
Chuck was not very surprised to find Dean Winchester sitting in his living room. Once it became clear that both he and his brother were not hallucinations brought on by years of alcohol consumption, Chuck had expected them to come back.
"Dean." Chuck greeted somberly as he continued to hold the brown bag and cans of beer close to his chest.
"I take it you knew I'd be here." Dean stated some how managing to be intimidating despite his tired appearance and small cuts to his face.
"You look terrible." Chuck blurted out casually.
"That's 'cause I just got hit by a minivan, Chuck." Dean said simply still sitting in the chair. It was the gruff voice and blunt statement that Chuck was use to hearing him say to other people in his visions- which made him know that the calm appearance was only a mask for the storm and violence that would be unleashed any second.
"Oh." Chuck whispered, because what else could be said when he was expecting to get beat to a pulp any second. It wasn't as if he could say he was sorry, sorry that he hadn't seen that fact of his life yet.
"Oh. Is that it?" Dean responded as he leaned forward in the chair obviously not liking Chuck's answer. Not wanting to anger him further Chuck's gaze dropped to the floor but this time did not mutter a word.
"Every damn thing you write about me comes true; that's all you have to say is "oh"?!" Dean snapped his tone become vicious as he let out all his anger.
"Please don't yell at me." Chuck begged, though he knew it would come off as whinny and weak, as he placed his belongings on the side table.
"Why do I get the feeling there's something that you're not telling us?" Dean questioned as he rose from the chair and took three threatening steps forward into Chuck's personal space.
"What wouldn't I be telling you?" Chuck asked not daring to yell back at the man who spent the majority of his life fighting creatures of his nightmares for a living.
"How you know what you know, for starters!" Dean shouted again in his hard voice. Dean had spent his childhood not saying a word, the house fire left him almost mute for a time and the quick temper of his father left him hesitant to speak after that. But when he was angry there was no describing the bellowing tone his voice took that made Chuck want to shrink back into a corner.
"I don't know how I know, I just do." Chuck tried to explain.
"That's not good enough." Dean stated coldly before grabbing Chuck by his shirt and shoving him backwards to the wall. Large hands gripping him by the collar in and almost choking hold Chuck did not know what to say in order for Dean to let him go.
.
"Dean, let him go." An equally commanding voice ordered suddenly, as Castiel appeared out of nowhere.
Dean released his hold on Chuck almost instantly and turned to face the angel in the room.
"This man is to be protected." Castiel stated in his usual detached tone of voice. For a second Chuck was stunned, hand gripping his chest as his brain caught up with reality and he processed that there was a literal angel standing in his living room.
"Why?" Dean asked seriously. He had never listened to the angel before and wasn't about to start now.
"He's a Prophet of the Lord." Castiel answered blankly.
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Note: I have a lot of school work to do this week, so I won't be posting anything until the weekend