Chapter 13

The Winchesters left later in the afternoon to find Russell Roy and try having a heart to heart. Their search, however, was fruitless. He wasn't at his house and they drove around town for several hours but saw no signs of Russell or his truck. Disgruntled, they went back to the house on Upper Huckleberry in time for a late supper. When they got there, they found Stella in the kitchen with a cookbook, and some beef stew and cornbread was waiting.

"I am really liking this Domestic Goddess side of you," said Dean as he powered through a second helping.

Stella shrugged. "Didn't think I'd enjoy cooking so much. But take it in while you can. We're running out of time here in Shangri-La."

"Running out of time?" Dean mumbled the words through a mouthful of food.

"We're already into August, Dean. Another few weeks and I'll be just fine again; healthy and ready to rock despite the fact that you're wallowing in denial. Then it will be time to get back on the road, get back to finding jobs and hunting. Plus, once we're into September here the snows will come and with the snow come the skiers, and this house is rented out from mid-September through the end of April. We are going to be homeless in a few weeks."

The three spent a quiet few hours at the house before turning in for the night. Stella had subtly waved the pink gift bag so that Dean could see it. Sam made a point of putting the radio on in his room so that he didn't hear too much of their midnight romp. In the morning, Sam and Dean headed out to search for Russell. Stella, grumpy that she couldn't go with them, at least took some satisfaction that she was able to drive the Camaro to her physical therapy session. There was minimal pain now but she still needed to be careful when she shifted gears.

The session went well and her PT trainer told her that she only needed to come one more time and she'd be officially finished with her therapy. There were a few things she wanted at the store so she drove to the market before heading back to the house. On the way she listened to a voice mail from Dean. It had come in while she was in PT. So far, they'd had no luck finding Russell but they were heading out to the town of Craig to check out a lead. As the message ended, her phone started blinking and beeping.

"Damn," she muttered. "I forgot to charge the stupid battery."

In the market, she tossed a few items in the cart and turned the corner so she could head for the bakery. Lost in thought about what she needed, she wasn't paying attention but when she looked up, Stella froze. The boys might not be having any luck finding Russell Roy; she apparently did not share that problem.

Russell was standing in front of the meat case, loading his basket with different cuts of steak. He was paler than before, definitely sweaty. Stella dropped her hand to her phone and then cursed inwardly as she remembered the battery. Russell's head snapped up and he stared at Stella. She put her weight into the cart and walked past him, pausing for a moment to look in the case and then move on. With his red-rimmed eyes on her, Stella had to resist the primitive part of her brain that was screaming for her to run, warning her of the danger.

Russell watched her walk away. That woman. The one with the dark hair. She was here last time. I remember her…

Russell licked his lips. His hunger had been increasing; he couldn't seem to get enough meat to satisfy himself. But there were other urges as well, desires that were growing more insistent, harder to quell. He wanted flesh, human flesh. The desire still disturbed him. Russell knew it was wrong but he was losing his will to oppose the urge and now he realized he didn't simply want flesh: He wanted a woman's flesh. He wanted a woman naked and sweaty beneath him while he sunk his teeth into her, listened to her scream.

Stop! You're losing your mind, Russ. Don't think like that. You can't think like that. Buy some more steak…

He tossed several more packages into his basket. The handle felt slippery and Russell realized that not only was he sweating profusely, he was breathing hard, as if he'd just sprinted a mile. He took another deep breath. Over the past day he'd realized that people smelled different, as if he could smell the blood coursing through them. That woman with the dark hair, her scent was like nothing he'd experienced before and he found himself wandering after through the store. He passed a man in a t-shirt and baseball hat. He smelled sour, like juice that had gone bad. The woman at the other end of the aisle had a more spicy smell, as if she would taste of chipotle peppers. Russ stopped at the end of the aisle and shut his eyes. He inhaled deeply and smiled when he caught a trace of the mystery woman.

Stella finally put the hand basket down. The man in front of her at the checkout was having a discussion with the cashier about several prices and a coupon. Stella refrained from rolling her eyes when the man asked to see the manager. She almost moved to a different line but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Russell in the other line. Not wanting to be too close to him, she stayed where she was and pretended to look through the gossip magazines. One headline claimed Justin Bieber was a midget alien. Another said Lindsay Lohan had found God and was giving up Hollywood. And the third headline screamed some nonsense about Jennifer Aniston wanting to have Adam Sandler's love child.

As the cashier finally started ringing through her items Stella covertly watched Russell walk out of the store. He didn't look at her or seem to notice her at all and she was relieved, but still wary. Part of her wanted to follow him, but she had no way to reach Dean or Sam if she got in trouble, and the Camaro wasn't exactly designed for tailing someone. No, she'd call the boys as soon as she got home and let them know.

She walked out into the parking lot and looked around as she made her way to the Camaro. Tucking the bag behind the front seat she looked around one more time. There were about three dozen cars in the lot and the only trucks there were a big red Dodge and a white Ford. No green Chevy.

She didn't notice the drab tan Honda Civic that pulled out behind her.

Russ knew he was stalking the woman in the Camaro, but he just couldn't stop. He was changing and he was becoming less terrified, less horrified by his urges. Eating the raw meat was making him stronger, smarter, and he relished that. All his life he had been average at best. Not anymore. He wanted to keep feeling this way and somewhere, deep down inside himself, he knew that more blood and more flesh – human blood and flesh – would make him even stronger.

He shifted in the car's seat. He liked the seats in his truck better; they were so much more uncomfortable. But until the truck's new battery was in, he was stuck in this little clown car. Maybe it is just as well, he thought. Who is going to notice a dull little car like this one?

Russ took pains to stay well behind Stella's car. He followed her onto Huckleberry but was far enough back that he almost missed the blue Camaro as it turned onto Upper Huckleberry. He drove past the street where Stella had turned and continued on Huckleberry. He parked around a turn in the road so no one could see the car and started to cut through the woods. He'd be able to smell the woman if he got close.

It took nearly three hours, but he eventually found her.

Stella left the bags on the counter and grabbed a flannel shirt. The evenings were getting cool. Once she got back in the kitchen she looked around and smiled. She was going to miss cooking, and that idea amused her tremendously. If she was being truthful with herself, she was going to miss living a normal life, but she also had to admit that she was craving the open road again. As crazy as it was, she missed the hunting life even with the blood and the fear and the pain. All she got was voice mail when she called Dean, so she left a message about seeing Russell and hoped it would help them track him down.

Since she wasn't quite sure when the boys would be home, she decided to make chicken soup. Between that and some crusty bread that she'd purchased at the store, there would be plenty for Sam and Dean to eat once they got back. For the next 40 minutes, Stella chopped vegetables, simmered broth and shredded some chicken breasts. She rummaged through a couple cabinets looking for some oregano. She found the oregano – and a bottle of tequila.

Tequila. Now there was a memory…

They'd finished up a job and ended up in Flagstaff—at a bar popular with the students of Northern Arizona University. They were close to broke and a bar full of drunken college kids seemed like an easy way to replenish their funds. Stella had come up with the plan. They all went into the bar separately and Stella went to work.

She went by a table occupied with five guys, clearly from the university, and a couple girls they were trying to impress. She made sure to stumble slightly and bump one of them.

"I'm so sorry! I am so clumsy." She turned on her Southern drawl. She dropped down into the one empty chair and leaned forward. Her shirt gapped slightly and the boys started to grin. "How are y'all tonight?"

"We're good. I'm Gary. What's your name pretty lady?"

She smiled at him. "Stella. Nice to meet you Gary."

At the bar, Dean sipped his beer and tried to ignore Gary's inept attempt to make a move on Stella. She flirted and laughed, giggled and joked and finally said, "I'll tell you what. You do some tequila shots with me. If you can do more than me, we'll go someplace quiet. But if I out drink you, then you have to kiss your friend Ricky here. On the lips. Like you mean it."

"I don't know…" Gary's grin was sly. "Doesn't really seem like a fair bet to me."

Stella giggled and put her hand on his. "What? You afraid of little old me?"

The ordered up some tequila shots and word quickly spread in the bar. They downed the first shot and Stella made a small demonstration about how strong the tequila tasted. Gary reminded her that a bet was a bet. They downed the second shot as Dean and Sam wormed their way into the crowd. Sam flashed a 50-dollar bill.

"Fifty bucks says the dude wins," said Sam. The crowd laughed.

"Hell, I like a long shot," said Dean. "I'll take your fifty and a hundred says the little Southern belle wins."

"Dude," said Sam. "She's half his size and she's half in the bag. You may as well just give me your money now. C'mon, who else wants to get in on the action?" He looked around at the crowd. A few people went with Dean's bet but most of the crowd was made up of young men whose half-drunk egos wouldn't allow them to think that a girl could out drink them. It wasn't long before cash was being slapped down on tables.

Three shots.

Four shots.

Five shots.

Stella was starting to wonder if this bet had been such a good idea. Across the table, Gary was starting to wonder the same thing.

Six shots.

The seventh shot got put on the table and Stella took a deep breath. She looked up at Gary. "I think you're trying to snooker me," she said adding a little slur to her voice. She swayed a little in her chair. Gary's buddies watched her and started cheering him on, telling him that another shot and he'd be golden. He picked up the shot glass and toasted Stella before he slammed it back. He groaned. He did not feel well.

"Oh, shit…" Gary pushed back from the table and grabbed the bucket that one of the bar backs had left by the table just in case of a situation like this. All seven tequilas and everything else Gary had eaten that day poured into the bucket and the crowd groaned and hooted.

"I think we have a winner," said Dean.

"Wait a sec," croaked Gary. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand. "I got my seventh shot down before it came back up. Sweet thing here has only had six."

Stella just smiled at him. She was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning, but Dean was about to make a lot of money. Picking up the full shot glass in front of her she toasted him and knocked the tequila back. She turned the shot glass over and placed it on the table.

"You boys need to pucker up."

Even split with the others who bet on Stella, they walked away with over five hundred dollars. Dean had left shortly after in the Impala. Sam waited at least 20 minutes and when Stella went to the ladies room, he went out to the Camaro. Stella slipped from the ladies room to the back hall and out the kitchen door. If the dishwashers noticed her, they didn't acknowledge her. Probably wasn't the first time someone had skipped out on a date through the back. Sam picked her up and they headed out to meet Dean. The next day, her hangover had been nothing short of horrific. It was the last time she suggested that con.

Stella put the tequila bottle out in a conspicuous place so Dean would see it when he got home. He'd remember.

Outside in the deepening shadows, Russell watched Stella, riveted by her. He licked his lips and rubbed his hands on his pants. His palms were sweaty. Twice he started to creep forward but hesitated, not wanting to go into the pools of light closer to the windows. The rumble of a car engine drew his attention and a moment later, the Impala rolled in. Russell coiled back into the shadows but didn't leave.

Dean flipped off the Impala's lights, put it in park and shut the engine down. He sighed, frustrated. They had spent the day looking for Russell Roy with no luck. His truck was nowhere to be found and he didn't have neighbors close enough to know his typical comings and goings. They'd even driven out to the town of Craig, where they weren't as well know, and posed as Park Service representatives to investigate some cattle mutilations. He and Sam were both convinced that Russell Roy was responsible, and that was where he had disappeared to. The problem? Where was he now? And was he still human?

"If he's going after cattle, live cattle, the compulsion is getting pretty strong," said Sam.

"I don't know if we're going to catch up with him in time," answered Dean. "I've got a really bad feeling about this one."

The cool evening breeze brought their scents to Russell and he bristled. The shorter one, he smelled of leather and something else, something Russell couldn't quite identify. Then he realized what it was: it was a masculine scent, testosterone or something. But it made Dean smell extremely dangerous. The taller one? There was something odd about his scent. Also something dangerous, but not like the first man. This smell made Russell a little anxious, the only way he could describe it was that the taller man smelled dark. Either way, they were the most dangerous males Russell had encountered since starting to embrace whatever change was coursing through him.

Sam and Dean went inside the house and Russell watched as Stella came over and kissed him. He couldn't stop the reaction. He wanted that woman and his first instinct was to rip her away from the interloper. He moved abruptly, started to lunge forward. Dean's back was towards the window, but both Sam and Stella saw the movement. Outside, Russell froze, trapped in a puddle of light that spilled out one of the windows.

"He's here!" shouted Stella. "On the deck!"

"Dean," Sam hollered at the same time. "Behind you!"

"HEY! YOU!" Dean didn't hesitate. He whirled, saw Russell staring through the window, and charged out the door. Sam was right on his heels. Stella ran to the kitchen island, grabbed the sawed-off shotgun she kept in the cabinet, and sprinted after them.

As Sam and Dean thundered out the door, Russell sprinted. He raced to the deck railing and flung himself over it. He hit the ground and yelped as he twisted his ankle, but between the adrenaline in his system and his newfound strength, he charged into the woods. The Winchesters ran after him and disappeared into the dark. Even though she was only moments behind them, Stella couldn't see the boys or Russell. She forced herself to stop. Charging blindly into the dark woods when some half-changed rugaru was clearly stalking her was a bad idea and she knew it.

"Shit," she cursed. Stella backtracked to the house. She locked the door behind her and quickly went through the rest of the house, closing and locking any open windows and locking any doors that might allow access to the house. Then she went back down stairs and waited, shot gun at the ready. If Russell came back, she would either see him or she'd hear him break a window to get in. She double-checked the gun. If he did come back, she would be more than happy to put a sizeable hole in his middle. If he had completely transformed into a rugaru, the gun blast might not kill him, but it would keep him down long enough to finish the job properly.

Out in the woods, Sam and Dean stopped to listen. They couldn't hear footsteps so either the rugaru had outdistanced them or it was hiding. Dean looked behind him and could barely see the lights of the house through the trees.

"C'mon, Sam. We have to go back. Too many places it could circle back on us… or on Stella right now." Dean frowned as he looked around again.

"And we're not exactly equipped to deal with it right now," said Sam. They needed fire if they were going to put the rugaru down permanently.

Back at the house, they came up the stairs. The door was locked but Sam had his key. He put it into the door lock and heard the distinct click as it opened. He opened the door a crack.

"Stella?" he called. "Don't shoot… Just me and Dean coming in." He stood to the side and pushed the door open. Both of the boys leaned in just enough to see inside. Stella was standing about 20 feet back, shot gun leveled at them. When she saw their faces she dropped the muzzle of the gun down. The boys came in and shut the door behind them.

"We have to go, Sam," said Dean. "We need to handle this. Now." It was evident that Dean was not going to be interested in talking or reasoning with Russell once they found him. Sam nodded in agreement. Stella watched the brothers and reached for her jacket.

"No. Stay here, Stella."

She narrowed her eyes, her hand hovering above the collar of her jacket. Her head turned slowly towards Dean. "Stay? STAY? I'm not your dog, Dean… and if you even dare say the word 'bitch' to me I will get the other shotgun and fill your ass so full of rock salt you won't be able to sit down for a month."

"Do we have to do this now? That's not what I meant and you know it." Dean struggled with himself. Stella was ready to hunt again, he knew it down in his gut, but he couldn't quite let go of the protector role he'd found himself in. Not yet.

"This thing was staring at me; watching me," said Stella.

Dean took her hands in his and kissed them. "Stella, please. We startled it, so I know it won't come back here tonight… Please stay home for this one. I just… I need to take care of this. I just want to know you're safe. I know that we have to leave here soon and once that happens, our lives are going to go back to the way they were before. Hunts and blood and violence… Please just stay safe one more time for me?" Dean wasn't one to beg, but this was as close to pleading as Stella had ever heard from him.

She relented. "Fine. I'll stay. But this is the last hunt I sit out on, Dean. The last one, are we clear on that?" She poked him in the chest with a finger. "Are we?"

"We are. Thank you." He kissed her. "I love you, Stella."

"And I love you, Dean. Stay safe. You, too, Sam. I want both of you back in one piece."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey! I'm sorry this one took so long… life got very busy and complicated and I didn't have a ton of time to write (combined with a little bit of writer's block on this one). Hopefully I have made up for the hiatus with this slightly longer chapter. I hope you like it. Thank you again for taking the time to read my story – I'd love to get feedback from you; please consider leaving a review!