Two weeks. 14 days. It's been 14 days since I've heard from the Winchesters. After leaving the Roadhouse where Jo told us that John was the reason she lost her father, Dean had become withdrawn. The car ride back to Bobby's was semi-quiet, save for the ever-playing music droning through the speakers and Sam occasionally trying to start a conversation then being told by Dean he didn't want to talk about it, the trip was uneventful. When I leaned forward to wrap my arms around Dean's shoulders over the seat, he didn't relax like he usually did. He didn't exactly pull away but I could tell by his posture, even I couldn't calm his thoughts, whatever they were. Dean was just tense and agitated.
Back at Bobby's both of us try to talk to him, but Dean just walks away and isolates himself. I find him laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and join him. Neither spoke. I know he is working through what Jo had said and I desperately want to help him but he won't allow it. When I try to lace our fingers together, he pulls his hand away. I lose it.
"Dean?" I turn my head to look at him, trying to stave off the tears I know were seconds away from showing themselves. "Talk to me, please."
"There's nothing to say." And with that, he stands up and leaves the room.
The next morning they are gone. Bobby says they got wind of a case in Baltimore and left before daybreak. I am devastated. I lay in my bed and cry. He has left. Dean has left me and I don't know if I will ever see him again. I keep telling myself that eventually they'll return; Bobby's was unofficial home base. But the pain of heartbreak knowing that Dean has left with no much as a 'goodbye' or 'I'll be back' is overwhelming.
I wait a few days and then I text both him and Sam but so far, no replies. Both messages remain unopen. I don't know what I did or how I can fix it, IF I can fix it. My relationship with Dean Winchester looks to be over.
"Yea, yea. I understand. Okay, Donnie. I'll find someone else. You take care of what you're working on," Bobby says into the phone as I enter the kitchen. Hanging the device back into its cradle, he sighs and flips a page in the book in front of him.
"What's up old man?" I ask, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer.
"Got a case and no one to work it." He picks the phone up again and dials the number in front of him.
"Hey Kev. Interested in a case?" Bobby asks to whoever Kev is. "Oh okay. Didn't know they were that far South. Yea, keep me informed, so I can update the books. Yea. Talk soon."
"What's the case," I ask, wondering if I should try to help him find someone.
" are being murdered, mutilated inside locked homes. No signs of entry, no fingerprints. I'm thinking it's our type of case but can't find a damn hunter that isn't ass deep into their own hunt."
"I might know someone," I say meekly. What better way to get my mind of everything than a hunt, albeit, it'd be my first solo hunt. But you gotta start somewhere.
"Who," Bobby asks, still flipping pages in his book.
"Me."
That stops his flipping. He looks up at me with eyes wide. "You want to hunt? By yourself?"
"Sure. It sounds like a simple ghost so salt and burn the bones. Voila. Done."
"Nic, I don't know. What if it's something bigger? Like a ghoul? A vengeful spirit?"
"Ghoul, decapitation. Vengeful spirit, find whatever is anchoring it here and destroy it," I count off how to kill supernatural beings with my fingers."Bobby, I can do this. I need out of here, just for a bit."
"Ok," he agrees and hands me the file. "First sign of trouble you call me, you hear? I'll head there myself if I have to."
"Yes sir," I salute and take the file to my room to familiarize myself with it.
Chicago, IL
I pull up to the apartment complex where the most recent victim lived and was murdered. Disguising myself as a rep for the security system company, I introduce myself to the landlady, Ms. Andrews.
"Thanks for letting me look around," I say as she opens the door to the apartment the victim, Meredith, resided.
"Well, the police said they were done with the place, so…. You said you were with the alarm company?"
"That's right." I smile down at her. She is a short, plump lady with her graying hair pulled back into a tight bun.
"Well, no offense, but your alarm's about as useful as boobs on a man." I laugh at that analogy. "Well, that's why I'm here. To see what went wrong and stop it from happening again. Now, ma'am, you found the body?"
"Yeah," she shudders and grimaces.
"Right after it happened?" I ask as I scan the room. There is a blood stain with varied pools of blood around it on the rug in the middle of the room.
"No. Few days later. Meredith's work called—she hadn't shown up. I knocked on the door. That's when I noticed the smell."
"Any windows open? Any sign of break-in?" I ask, as I step over to a window, surveying that it is indeed locked.
"No, windows were locked, front door was bolted. Chain was on the door, we had to cut it just to get in."
"And the alarm was still on?" I turn and look at her.
"Like I said, bang-up job your company's doin'." I can only smile at that.
"Mmhmm. You see any overturned furniture, broken glass, signs of struggle?" I ask and get my answer as the landlady shakes her head.
" Everything was in perfect condition—except Meredith."
"And what condition was Meredith in?" I inquire as I kneel down and inspect the blood stain.
"Meredith was all over. In pieces. The guy who killed her must have been some kind of a whack job. But I tell you, if I didn't know any better, I'd have said a wild animal did it." I stand back up and grab my toolbox and pretend to head toward the security system box on the wall.
Ma'am, do you mind if I take some time? Give this place a once-over?"
"Oh, well, go right ahead. Knock yourself out," she says and turns to leave, closing the door behind her.
I take my EMF reader out of my toolbox and turn it on. It immediately starts whining and all five lights illuminate. "Yahtzee."
Looking at the blood stain on the rug again, I notice it looks to be a pattern made up with the separate pools of blood. I grab a roll of black electrical tape out of my toolbox and begin piecing the pools together. When I'm finish, there is a definite symbol there.
I pull my phone out of the pocket of my jumpsuit and dial Bobby.
"Whatcha got kid?"
"Definitely supernatural. EMF off the charts. Blood splatters create a symbol I don't recognize. I'm going to take a picture and send to you when I get back to the hotel."
"Ok, Nic? Be careful."
"You know it."
Back in my hotel room, I send the picture of the symbol to Bobby and while I wait for his phone call, I analyze the file on the case some more. Meredith, a waitress at a local establishment was the second victim in the city. The first had been a banker, Ben Swardstrom. So, nothing in common there; no connections to one another. They lived in two totally different worlds.
When Bobby calls back, he has the exact information I need. ""So, turns out it's Zoroastrian. Very, very old school, like two thousand years before Christ. It's a sigil for a Daeva," Bobby says without the pleasantries of a Hello.
"What's a Daeva?" I ask. I have never heard of it.
"It translates to "demon of darkness". Zoroastrian demons, they're savage, animalistic, you know, nasty attitudes—kind of like, uh, demonic pit bulls. These Daevas, they have to be summoned, conjured."
"So, someone's controlling it?" I ask but also state.
"Yeah, that's what I'm sayin'. And, from what I gather, it's pretty risky business, too. These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them. And, uh, the arms, and torsos," Bobby tells me and then sighs. "Nic, I think this is bigger than we thought. Do you want me to find you some help?"
"Psh, no!" I decline his offer quickly. "So, what do they look like?"
"Well, nobody knows, but nobody's seen 'em for a couple of millennia. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? Someone really knows their stuff. I think you've got a major player in town," Bobby tells me.
"Yep, sounds like. Hey, do me a favor. Look up Ben Swardstrom and Meredith Calloway. See if you can find any connection between them at all."
Bobby calls back about an hour later with news. "Ben spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn't born there. He was born in Lawrence. And Meredith, she was adopted. And guess where she's from..."
"Lawrence." I say, then stop when a thought hits me. "Hey Bobby, you think this has anything to do with the yellow-eyed demon? The one John says killed his wife?"
"I don't know. Heard anything from the boys?"
"Nope." I say, popping the p sound.
"You two left it in a bad way didn't you?" Bobby says, his voice soft.
"Don't really want to talk about it Bobby," I plead. "I just want to gank whatever the hell this is."
"Okay," Bobby says. "I'm here for you, ya know."
"Any idea how to kill this, uh, daeva?" I ask him, wanting to change the subject.
"I ain't found anything yet but don't worry, I'll keep looking," Bobby assures me.
We end our conversation and I look at my phone screen. Still no word from Dean or Sam. I have no idea what went wrong where but this radio silence is starting to piss me off. If they knew I was working a case that probably involved the demon who attacked their mother, they'd want to be involved. I consider sending Sam another message but the first one I sent had yet to be opened so I close my phone and go back to trying to figure out how to find and kill the Daeva.
I track the Daeva to a warehouse and sneak in to investigate. The elevator lift is broken so I climb the wooden sides up to the floor above and can see what looks like some sort of altar in the dimly lit room. Looking around to see if anyone else was near, I took a chance and climbed into the room. Walking over to the wall that the table is on, I notice a silver bowl filled with what looks like blood and in the middle is a mirror laying face up with the same symbol I found in Meredith's apartment on it. "What the hell?" I ask myself.
I hear something behind me and as I turn I notice a shadow on the wall coming towards me. The shadow figure is tall, like 7 or 8 foot with long arms that end in five claws. I am suddenly pushed to the left and fall down, sliding across the floor until my head connects with a stack of crates. I watch as the shadow approaches me but before it actually gets to me, I can feel its talons cutting into my skin. I have lacerations on my arms and legs and a nasty gash on my temple.
I grab the gun from my waistband and start shooting toward where the monster would be to create that shadow on the wall. With each shot, the invisible creature is lit up but not long enough for me to get a good look at it.
When my ammo is gone, I crawl toward my bag and grab a flare. Lighting it up, I toss it into the middle of the room. Luckily, I tossed it right where the beast is standing and it goes up in flames, screeching and screaming the whole time. I slump back against the stack of crates, catching my breath' watching my attacker burn to nothingness.
Back at the hotel, I clean my wounds thanking the Heavens I didn't need stitches. I don't think I could stitch myself. I'd always had Sam or Dean do it for me. Shaking my head of the thoughts of my ex-whatever he was and his brother, I pack my bag and head back to Sioux Falls.
I pull up to Bobby's and there sits the Impala. At first, the sight of the car excites me but then I remember the way things ended and I begin to dread going inside. I'm tired, dirty and just in no mood to deal with whatever alibi those two boys have come up with. I'm to the point that I just don't care anymore. Something happened between us trapping Holmes' spirit in the drain in Philly and getting back here but I have no idea what. I'm tired of trying to figure it out.
I get out of the driver's seat of the car Bobby had let me take and walk to the trunk to get my bag. I hear footsteps quickly approaching me so I shut the lid and am met with the green eyes I love. Dean wraps his arms around me tightly. "Nic, what the hell were you thinking? Going on a hunt alone? I've been worried sick!"
I pull out of his embrace. "You?! You were worried sick? I've only been gone three days and I kept in contact with Bobby. He knew I was okay. Try not hearing from someone for almost three weeks. THREE FUCKING WEEKS DEAN! I messaged you both and didn't get a single reply. And you just left me. Like I was nothing. Like I meant less than the dirt on your shoe."
By this time, tears are streaming down my face and are blurring my vision that so I can barely make out his vision is obscured so I wipe my eyes and dry my cheeks.
"It hurt, Dean. It hurt when I woke up and you were gone," I whispered, the fight gone out of me. "After all we've been through these last few months, you pulled away from me and just left." Pulling my pack onto my shoulder, I turned and walked into Bobby's leaving Dean standing there at the boot of my car.