A few of you had requested Kory's return... ;) You're welcome.
~Christianne
Nikki POV
I'd been driving only an hour or so before my phone rang. After Yellow-Eyes denied everything about Chris, and refused to tell me about what he did to him, I got in my car and put the pedal to the metal.
I grabbed my phone from the seat next to me and opened it with my chin. "Hello?" I asked flatly. I hadn't looked at the caller ID, and prayed that it wasn't Sam or Dean. I didn't want to talk to either of them right now.
"Nikki! Oh my God! You answered!" I had to hold the phone a few inches from my face as Kory squealed.
"Kory?" I asked, even though her distinct voice was hard to misinterpret.
"Yes!" She squealed again. "Listen, I need your help." She said, her voice abruptly becoming serious.
"What happened?" I asked, hoping the curse I lifted from her hadn't come back.
"Well, I left Buffalo Gap the day after you left. I just packed up my pick-up and drove to Cheyenne. You know, Wyoming? I've always wanted to go there. My great-grandma used to be a singer there. She moved to the Gap when she met my great-granddaddy, and he got a job in the coal mine. Did you know that it closed in 1933? It didn't have enough money to pay the workers. It reopened in '42 though, that's when my great-granddaddy worked there." Kory paused. "I forgot what she was going to tell you."
I held in a laugh. "You said you needed my help." I reminded her.
"Oh! Yeah! Right!" Kory said quickly. "So, I get to Cheyenne, find this amazing pre-war apartment. Anyway, I've been here a week, and in that week, three people died in the park across the street. I asked a local cop, and he said the body count was up to 19, and the killings only started three weeks ago."
"Sounds like a person problem, Kory." I told her honestly. "Just get some pepper spray, maybe a hand gun, and don't go out alone at night." I added, stepping on the gas pedal to get around a very slow Subaru.
"Oh believe me, I did. But it's not…it's not normal." Kory insisted. "Listen, I know I don't do this every day like you do, but I think it's a ghost."
I raised my eyebrows. "Why?"
"Well, I don't have proof or anything, it's more of a feeling really. A really strong feeling, though. Like when you see the preview for a movie, and you think it's gonna suck, but you think it's just a bad preview and go see it anyway. And when the movie's done you've wasted $14 and two hours of your life." Kory explained quickly. "You know?"
"Uh…No. Not really." I mumbled honestly.
"Oh." Kory said, sounding a little let down. "Well, there's the whole King Park Killer thing too."
"King Park Killer?" I repeated questioningly.
"Yeah, back in 1955, this guy, Maxwell Sherman, killed 26 people. The victims now have the same ones the victims then did; stabbed once in the back, again in the thigh, then so many in the torso and neck they're practically pulverized." Kory explained.
"Ok, Kory, next time, lead with something like that." I told her, pulling over onto the side of the road to pull a map from the glove compartment. "Find out everything you can about the murders in 1955. I'm in California, so it'll take me awhile to get to Cheyenne." I said, finding the right highway.
"Really? You're coming?" Kory asked, sounding shocked.
"Yeah. I think between the two of us, we can take some pissed off spirit." I said with a smile on my face as I pulled back onto the highway.
By the time I got to Cheyenne, I had 15 missed calls and 10 text messages from Dean, and 28 missed calls and 18 text messages from Sam. None of them had been returned.
I parked next to Kory's building, on the side opposite the park. When I walked up to the door, I saw a big red sign on the intercom reading 'OUT OF ORDER.' I groaned, pulled out my phone and gave Kory a call.
"Hey Nikki!" Kory answered quickly. "You close by?"
"I'm outside you building. You intercom is broken." I told her.
"Oh! I'll be right down." Kory said, hanging up.
A minute or two later, the door was thrown open by a familiar brunette in a green t-shirt. She grinned and put her arms around me in a tight hug.
"Hi." I managed to get out through my laughing. I patted her back a few times before I waited for her to let go. Kory got the message and leaned back.
"Sorry. Guess I'm a hugger." She mumbled, still smiling. "It's really good to see you." She added, giggling slightly. I laughed with her and walked up to her apartment. It was on the fifth floor, and since the building had no elevator, we walked. I again cursed myself for not jogging.
The whole way up, Kory was babbling on about her new apartment, the new wardrobe she blew her money on, and other little things that had changed in her life since I saw her a week ago.
"You know, I don't remember you talking this much." I told her teasingly.
"I think I was stunned, you know? Couldn't believe I could talk again after being silent for 20 years." Kory said, opening her door. I nodded understandingly.
"'Kay." I said, clapping my hands once. "What do you know about the first King Park Killer-Guy?" I asked.
Kory waved me over to a mass of papers taped to the exposed brick wall.
"So, the first murder was in late 1954, the dead bodies kept showing up throughout 1955, roughly one every two weeks. In June of '55, the police, who had been patrolling the park, found Maxwell Sherman leaning over a dead body. He was arrested, and sentenced to death. Six months later, he was hung." Kory explained, pointing to various papers on the wall as she spoke.
I nodded along. "Why now, though?" I asked out loud, pulling a stool from the kitchen counter to sit on.
"What do you mean 'why now?'" Kory asked curiously, sitting on the back of her sofa, facing the paper-covered wall.
"I get it, serial killer's spirit isn't done killing, so it hangs around and keeps killing." I started to explain. "But why now? Six months after Sherman died I get; everyone's still talking about it and stuff. But almost sixty years?" I shook my head. "Doesn't make sense."
"The book!" Kory said suddenly, jumping off the sofa.
"What book?" I asked, watching her fly around her apartment.
"Some local lawyer-historian guy is writing a book about the King Park Killer." Kory said, finally pulling out a newspaper article. "Yeah, here." She finally said, handing me the clipping.
Basically, the son of the arresting officer on the King Park Killer case was writing a book telling the untold details of the worst serial killer case in Wyoming history. From the article, it sounded like he was really focusing on the 'sick and twisted mind' of Maxwell Sherman. "Well, that would do it." I said, putting in on the table.
I sat back in my stool and took a moment to look around Kory's new place. All the walls were exposed brick, and the ceilings were at least 20 feet high and the steel beams were exposed. The furniture looked like the standard big-box-store stuff, a generic sofa, chair and coffee table all in front of a TV. It was a studio apartment, so on the far side of the apartment, across from the kitchen where I was sitting, was an unmade bed, a dresser and a door to what I assumed was the bathroom.
"Well, uh, what do we do now?" Kory asked, bouncing on her heels.
"We wait." I told her simply. "Later we go get a couple shovels, some salt, lighter fluid and matches—I'm not sure on the matches though, I think I might have some in my car yet. Do you know where Maxwell Sherman is buried?"
"Yeah." Kory said slowly. "Why?" she asked in the same tone.
"With most spirits, you basically have to get rid of what's keeping them here on Earth." I explained. "Best way to do that, salt 'n burn the bones."
Kory nodded slowly. "So…We're gonna dig up a body."
"Yup." I confirmed with a nod, picking up a discarded newspaper from the floor. When Kory didn't say anything, I looked up. "Not going to say anything?" I asked her.
She shook her head. "Nothin' to say." Kory mumbled, falling over the back of the sofa to lay with her back on the cushions and her feet over the back.
It was a little after midnight when Kory and I pulled up to the cemetery on the edge of Cheyenne.
"You got the plot?" I asked Kory as I turned off my lights and pulled the keys out of the ignition.
"Yeah, Maxwell Sherman, plot W24." Kory read off from the small notebook she had.
"Great. Let's get digging." I said as I got out of my Mustang. I had to admit, I was a little excited. My first salt 'n burn by myself. Well, I had Kory with me, so, my first salt 'n burn where I was the expert.
Kory and I each took a shovel, she carried the lighter fluid and I took the bag of salt and the matches. Once we found the plot, I tossed the salt down and looked at the grave marker.
Maxwell Sherman
October 1, 1925-December 13, 1955
"You ready?" I asked Kory.
She tossed the lighter fluid down and put her light brown hair up in a ponytail. "Hell yeah." She said with a grin.
We'd been digging for half an hour or so when Kory spoke up.
"So, why aren't you with those hunter guys? What were their names? Dean and…Dean and something." Kory wracked her brain as she pulled a rock out of the three foot hole we'd dug.
"Sam." I have her. "Dean and Sam."
"Oh. Yeah. Right." Kory nodded. "You seemed pretty set on meeting back up with them."
"I did. Met up with them in Cali." I said as I kept digging.
"You know, I've been wondering, Dean sounded pretty cute when I talked to him on the phone back in Buffalo Gap." Kory said in a mumbled voice.
I stopped digging and fell to sit on the edge of the hole as I laughed. Dean Winchester and cute in the same sentence; it just couldn't hold it in.
"Are-Are you asking me to tell you if Dean is good looking?" I said through my laughing.
"Yes please." Kory said quickly.
I chuckled and shook my head. "Well, for starters, I wouldn't call him 'cute.' I mean, the guy shoots, stabs and beheads stuff every other day." I started off, then shrugged. "I dunno. He's ok, I guess." I said vaguely. I glanced up at Kory and saw her looking at me expectantly. I sighed and climbed out of the hole, let my shovel lay on the ground, crossed my arms and cocked my hip to lean against Maxwell Sherman's grave stone.
"Hey! Why'd you stop digging?" Kory asked loudly.
"You're asking me to describe the less handsome and more annoying of the Winchester brothers. You're gonna dig." I told her teasingly. But, Kory just rolled her eyes and kept digging.
"Well, Dean's blond." I said offhandedly. "He's got green eyes. Like, really, green eyes. They can be all happy and sparkly when he's in a good mood; like when he's eating a good burger or cleaning his gun or something. On the other hand, they can liquefy your insides if he glares at you."
Kory laughed a little. "Jee, I'm not stepping on toes, am I?"
"Huh?" I asked, confused.
"You sound like you have a crush on him." Kory giggled.
I snorted. "On Dean? No way." I said, shaking my head.
"Oh, right. You called him the more annoying and less handsome brother. So, what about the other one, Sam? You got a thing for him?" Kory asked.
I was happy it was dark out, 'cause I was blushing. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." I admitted after a few seconds.
"Well, tell me about him." Kory told me. "Isn't that what girls do with their friends? Talk about boys?"
I shrugged. "Think so." I said, distracted. I was thinking about what I should tell Kory about Sam. I'm fairly sure I could talk about him all night and not repeat anything.
"He's smart." I decided to start with. "Really smart…Before he started hunting again, he was at Stanford. Going to law school." Kory made an impressed sound.
"Yeah. He's…He's just nice, you know? He cares about people." I said, knowing that I was right, despite my feelings for the last 36 hours. "He's just…He's the type to give you his jacket without having to ask. Sam's done that a few times for me. He's a pretty big guy, and he runs warm, so his jackets are all oversized and snuggly." I didn't realize I was smiling until some stray dirt hit my face.
"Damn." Kory laughed. "It that's how you describe his personality, I can't wait to hear how you describe his body."
"Well, he's tall." I started, trying to keep words like 'perfect,' 'Adonis-like,' and 'gorgeous' out of my explanation. "He's in really, really, great shape, you know, from hunting…And my God." I said, slouching more onto the grave marker. Kory stopped digging after hearing my tone and looked at me, waiting for me to speak more. '
"His abs." I finished, remembering a time a few weeks ago when we were crashing for the night and he pulled his over shirt off, puling his t-shirt up with it, letting me take in his defined, tanned chest and the planes of his abdomen. I'm not usually one for these types of thoughts; but damn, you just want to lick his chest. I heard Kory laugh again, but I was thinking of something else completely.
I was thinking about when Sam was possessed and kissed me in Bobby's salvage yard. Mainly the parts before he smashed my head into the car.
How when he picked me up; it felt like it took him little to no effort.
When he pressed me to the side of the car, his chest pressed tightly to mine; I could feel the muscles of his firm chest and back flex and move as I ran my hands over his chest and shoulders.
I had no idea that someone running their fingers firmly down and over your spine could be so…erotic.
"Ok. Found the coffin." Kory announced roughly 45 minutes later. It snapped me out of my Sam-filled daze I was in. "Would you mind breaking this thing?" Kory asked as she got out of the grave.
"Yeah. Sure." I said, distracted. I jumped into the hole with my shovel. I stood at the bottom of the grave, so I could put the (surprisingly light) shovel over my shoulder and hit the coffin like I was swinging an axe down to split wood.
Guilty. I felt guilty.
I was blaming Sam for something that wasn't his fault. It was hurting me and I had to think it was hurting Sam.
At the same time, I had to stop thinking Sam would suddenly realize that I had feelings for him and tell me he felt the same. It would only cause me more pain if I kept thinking that way.
Swing! He was possessed.
Swing! He doesn't think of you that way.
Swing! You have to stop thinking about him like that.
Swing! You.
Swing! Have.
Swing! To.
Swing! Stop.
Swing! Thinking.
Swing! Sam.
Swing! Like.
"That!" I grunted as I swung the shovel one more time, breaking the coffin with a satisfying smash. I used my shovel to break away the rest of the coffin, exposing the foul smelling, grayish, skeletonized remains of Maxwell Sherman. Kory didn't seem like she wanted to cover the body in lighter fluid and salt, so I did; lighter fluid first.
"You look so badass right now." Kory said, almost in awe, as I used my knife to slash a hole in the bag of salt. I grinned, grabbed the bottom of the bag and held it over the open grave.
As I held the bag over the body, making sure the gross serial killer had salt from his moldy boots to his disgusting, decomposing skull, I laughed a little. "Thanks." I told her, tossing the empty bag into the grave.
I was just about to strike the match when I hesitated. I glanced at Kory, who had her brows furrowed together in the middle.
"Do you feel like we should say something?" I asked.
"Yup." Kory said simply, nodding once.
"You wanna do the honors, Wordy Birdie?" I asked, still ready to strike the match.
"Nope." Kory said in the same tone. I rolled my eyes at her, then struck the match.
"Sorry Max." I said simply, dropping the match into the hole we dug. The flames roared to life once the match hit the body. "Next time, don't kill people." I added.
Kory laughed once, just a breath through her nose paired with a small smile.
I groaned as I woke up.
Kory and I, after burning Sherman's bones, went back to her apartment (after a quick stop at the liquor store) for a TV marathon. We'd ended up falling asleep in front of her TV, me on the sofa, Kory sprawled out on her rug. I sat up and squinted against the bright sun streaming into the apartment. After checking the time on my phone, and seeing more texts and missed calls from the boys, I got up and went to the window to see what woke me up.
I scrubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands and looked out the window at the park across the street.
"Kory." I called. "Wake up. You gotta see this."
Nothing.
I looked over my shoulder when I spoke again. "Kory! Wake up!" I yelled.
There was some flailing, yelping and other sounds before Kory's head popped into view.
"What?" she asked loudly, clearly upset I woke her.
"Come see this." I said calmly.
"Woke me up to see something? What could be worth getting yelled out of a REM cycle?" She complained as she got off the floor. "My damn leg's numb." She muttered as she stumbled to the window.
Once she got there, she blinked her blue eyes a few times, shocked.
Down at King's Park across the street, people were crowding. Police cars, with lights flashing, were parked along the curb, and the cops were trying to keep people behind the barriers.
The part I was focusing on was the black bag, strapped to a gurney, being wheeled towards a truck that had 'CORONER' on the side.
Kory sighed, and copied my pose; elbows braced on the window sill, chin resting on lously closed fists.
"We missed something." Kory sighed. "Didn't we?"
"Yup." I answered.