"Just remind me, why are we here again, Sam?", the driver of a '67 Chevrolet Impala breaks and glances aside at his passenger, apparently not amused.
Hey Man, Nice Shot by Filter comes from the speaker as the guy in his mid twenties observes his younger brother next to him. The motor of his car rumbles like the thunder in the distance. It's still dark, but at least it stopped raining. The black Chevystops on the driveway of an old house, clearly abandoned.
"Dean, let it go already. If we have a lead on our guy, we take it, even if it's five in the morning", Sam reacts annoyed.
"We don't have a lead, you have a 's my point, Char", Dean argues.
"Okay, so we don't have a lead, but that's exactly why we should check this out and…", Sam wants to continue his sentence, but Dean interrupts.
"You know what I should be doing? Sleeping, in… my... bed", he glares at his brother.
"Come on...", Sam sighs and looks away.
"No Sam, I can't help it you're up all night. We have an appointment withthat Cliffer dude tomorrow during normal daytimes, we work from there, that's what we agreed", he looks Sam in the eye.
"We're not even certain if he'sthe next victim. If we find something here we might actually know what we're dealing with", his brother bounces back.
"I thought you already knew what we're dealing with?", Dean cries out.
"I'm pretty sure, but what did you expect? We just got here. All that we know is because of my research, so back off", Sam opens his door and gets out.
"Someone has to do the driving, if it was for you we'd end up in Texas!", Dean raises his voice for Sam to hear him, who is walking up the driveway.
Sam halts and sighs, why does he have to be so damn stubborn? He turns around and stares at his brother through the front window. The headlights of the Chevy light him up, he has to squint to see Dean through the glass.
"We're here, we might as well check it out",Sam suggests.
He waits for Dean to react, but he just glares at his brother without saying a word, his left hand on the wheel, the engine still running.
"Fine", he shrugs, turns back to the house and starts walking.
"Sam, where you going?", Dean leans outside his rolled down window.
"What does it look like, Dean?", Sam answers bored without looking back and walks on with his hands in his pocket.
"Sammy, get back here!", Dean commands with stern voice.
But his little brother ignores his order and follows the road to the house. Dean waits for a little while, not wanting to give in and let him win, but he can't let his little brother enter the house all by himself; what if there is something inside?
"Stubborn bastard..", Dean curses, turns off the ignition and gets out of his car.
Irritated he opens his trunk, takes out a duffel bag and loads an extra gun, which he puts away behind his waistband. He tosses the bag over his shoulder, locks the car and catches up with his brother."Really responsible, walking into a possible hideout without a weapon", he hands Sam a gun.
"I knew you'd come around", Sam responds with a grin.
"Wipe that smile of your face, smartass. We've got work to do", Dean takes the lead and walks up the front porch.
"Silver bullets?", Sam asks as he checks his gun.
"Yep", Dean confirms. "One of these to the heart and our chameleon is dead".
"If it is a shapeshifter", Sam questions.
"Well if it isn't, silver will do fine and if it's already dead, I still have this baby", Dean shows the bag on his shoulder, from which a shotgun sticks out, loaded with rock salt.
He grabs the doorknob and opens the door, which slowly swings open with a shrieking sound.
"Wooh… scary", Dean pretends to shiver.
He takes out his EMF device, which measures electromagnetic radiation. If anything out of the ordinary is going on in this house, the meter will go sky high.
"Cut it out and be serious for once", Sam whispers annoyed as he checks the living room, holding up his flashlight and his gun in the other hand.
The rooms are still furnished, but a thick layer of dust covers the tables, couches and other furniture in the house. A few windows are broken, shattered glass is spread over the wooden floor. Paint is coming of the moldy walls. The place seems like an old Indian waiting for death; this house is old. No one has been here for ages. The brothers meet again in the kitchen.
"Nothing here", Sam concludes with lowered voice, still precautious.
"See, told ya", Dean rubs in.
"I'll check upstairs, you check the other rooms down here", Sam suggests, ignoring Dean's comment.
"Alright…", bored he strolls to the other room.
He looks through some paperwork, but there's nothing interesting here. He shakes his head; he can't believe he's out in the woods five 'o clock in the morning, doing absolutely nothing useful. Hell, he could be fast asleep right now.
"I'm all clear, Sam", Dean puts away his gun and walks back to the hallway.
"Yeah, me too", Sam looks down from the staircase, disappointed.
"Now let's get the hell outta here before the…"
Sam doesn't finish his sentence, because of a noise, coming from somewhere inside the house. Dean observes the area, alertly he takes out his gun again. Silently his brother comes down the stairs. They both have the feeling they're being watched, but besides the sound they just heard, they can't detect anything out of the ordinary. Dean's eyes seek Sam's, he looks back. It sounded like it came from the provision room. Carefully Dean approaches it, backed up by his brother. He has his gun in both hands and ready to fire. Concentrated he lets his left hand slip off the gun and grabs the doorknob, when a gun unlocks.
"What the..?"
A shot echoes through the house and Dean hits the wall. In a quick reaction, Sam fires his gun twice in the direction where the bullet came from, then he concentrates on his brother.
"Dean!", Sam, startled by what just happened, kneels next to him.
His brothercollapses against the wall, bleeding badly, he gasps for air. The shot to his shoulder almost makes him pass out, but he can keep it together. With his jaws clamped together he tries to fight the pain, breathing fast.
"That wasn't rock salt, was it?", Sam checks the wound.
"Damn sure it wasn't!", Dean moans frustrated.
Suddenly two flashlights shine on their faces. Sam quickly goes for his weapon, but he can hear the gun which shot Dean a moment ago unlock.
"Stop it, right, there", a voice commands.
The bright light blinds the boys, Sam can't see who's pointing a gun at him and his brother. The only thing they hear is their own respiration. The tension in the room is high as they wait for their attacker to undertake action. The beams from the flashlights glide over their faces, as if the beholder tries to see something in their eyes. Then both guns lock, as she lowers them.
"Damn it", she curses as she puts one gun away and takes the flashlight off the other.
"You can say that again…", Dean groans.
"What the hell are you doing here?", irritates she shines the flashlights back on the boys faces, but when it captures Dean, she keeps one in place.
"We could ask you the same thing", Sam intends to get up, but immediately looks into the barrel.
"I told you not to move", she repeats strictly.
"Who are you?", Sam doesn't seem to be impressed.
"None of your damn business", she answers rapidand concentrates on Dean again. "I know you".
"I hope not", Dean reacts smartly.
"One of your mad exes?", Sam asks with lowered voice.
"Don't know, but if you'd stop shining that damn light in my face, I couldhave a better look!", he squints from the blinding light and holds his hand above his eyes.
She lowers the flashlight in order for Dean to see her face. He stares at her, concentrated.
"No, I have absolutely no idea who you are, unless…", he comes a bit closer. "Aren't you that chick from Seattle with the weird piercing?", he asks with a grin.
"Take a better look, Dean Winchester", she throws him the flashlight, which he catches with one hand and aims at her.
In front of him stands a young woman, probably in her mid twenties with brown, short hair and dark eyes, wearing leather pants and jacket.
"Nice, but I'm not really into that kinda thing", he nods doubting.
She looks aside and sighs, shaking her head. Dean looks up at her, she's right; he knows that face. He observes her fine profile. Her hair is much shorter than it was back then, but those dark eyes, how could he forget.
"Zoë?", he asks surprised.
She looks back at him, a satisfied smile appears on her face.
"Zoë Sullivan, I can't believe it", he grins, but clamps his hand around his bleeding shoulder, realizing his acquaintance is the one who caused it.
"You shot me!", he cries out in disbelief.
"Who?", Sam interrupts their intermezzo.
"Yeah, same question. Who is he?", Zoë asks him as she kneels down next to Dean and takes a look at his injury.
"He's my brother", Dean answers with a tensed face, clearly in pain.
"Ah, Sam right? Collegeboy", she responds with a tone.
Sam glares at her and looks over to his brother.
"I can see how you two met", he comments.
"We weren't an item if that's what you mean", Zoë directly corrects.
"But we did look kinda cute, didn't we", Dean adds hopeful.
"You wish, Winchester", without warning she tears up Dean's sleeve to have a better look at his shoulder.
"Hey!", Dean cries out stunned.
"You can buy a new one with your scammed credit cards, stop wining", she says with motherly voice.
"Well if you're not one of his dates", Sam gets up and watches the two. "Then how do you know eachother?"
"Well for one, Dean doesn't date, he screws everything he can find", she starts.
"I'm still in the room, you know?", Dean intervenes irritated, but Zoë ignores him.
"Get up", she commands.
Sam gives him a hand and helps his brother on his feet, who keeps his left hand clamped around his wounded shoulder, moaning softly.
"Let's get the hell out of here", he mumbles grumpy and heads for the door, leaning on his brother.
Zoë holds the door as they exit the house. She glances over her shoulder and takes a last look at the old place, a sigh escapes from her lips.
"Well, that didn't got me any further", she whispers to herself, but apparently loud enough for Dean to hear.
"You got me shot", he comments pissed.
"Oh don't be such a baby, it's only a flesh wound", she reacts bored, putting her gun away.
"Don't you check your target before you fire a bullet at it?", he looks over back, as Zoë follows them down the driveway.
"You were the one who taught me to shoot first and ask questions later", she answers smartly.
"That does sound like you", Sam agrees, after which Dean glares at him.
"Shut up, did you book a motel?", he asks as he waits by the door on the passengers side as he tosses his brother the keys.
"What do I look like, a travel agency?", Sam unlocks the Impala.
"Where are you staying?", Dean turns to Zoë, who walks into the shade.
"Motel 6, down the 52", she answers. "But forget your idea of sharing a room, get your own".
"In that case I hope your motel has more than one room", he sighs, not leaving her out of sight.
"Where did you park your car?"
"Who said anything about a car?", she rides her Harley out of the shade as Deans jaw drops.
"You ride a motorcycle?", he concludes surprised.
"I don't ride a motorcycle, I ride a Harley Davidson", she corrects while she puts on her helmet. "You think the leather's for fun?"
"I don't know you that well, yet. Nice ride", he compliments and nods approving.
"Thanks", she gets on the black bike.
"What do you think of mine?", Dean lays his hand on top of his Chevy Impala 67, clearly proud of his baby, but Zoë doesn't seem that impressed.
"It's a car", she comments dull.
She starts her Harley as the headlight switches on and drives off, leaving Dean in total shock. Her taillight disappears as she turns around the corner, letting out a roar from her engine when she accelerates. Stunned Dean glides in the passengers seat, stares at the road ahead and slams the door.
"Did she just shot me AND insulted my car?", he asks his brother.
"Yep", Sam answers as places his keys in the ignition.
"What a bitch", Dean concludes.
"I don't know, I think she's kind of fun", his brother smirks.
"Shut up, college boy", Dean snipes.
Sam grins and starts the car. The mix tape in the cassette player automatically continues Hey Man, Nice Shot by Filter as Sam sets the car into motion. Dean shakes his head disapproving.
"Just a car, how could she say that…", he muddles insulted.
"Let it go, Dean", Sam advises laughing as he turns on to the 110th Ave NW.
He follows the single red light in the distance and speeds up, before he loses her out of sight. It bothers Sam that their visit to the house didn't get them any further, he really had a feeling something's going on there, but apparently he was wrong. Oh well, at least they ran into Zoë. His brother won't see that as a positive outcome, but she's clearly a hunter, so she might have more information on this case. The sooner they solve this, the sooner they can continue their search for their father. It might not quite be the night they planned to have, but they can never say it wasn't exiting.