Another Flashbacks
Flashback:
It was back when I was six years old again. Still a little naive about the world but my innocence was slowly fading as the days worn on. I had just spent the last hour being yelled at by the matron because I was standing on the stairs outside just as the sun was setting. We were all pretty much supposed to be on lock down as soon as six o'clock hit. Lame rule in my opinion but whatever, I didn't make them. I just grew up to break them. "Why can't you ever listen?" One of the older girls asked, handing me one of those little milk bottles she snagged from the fridge even though we were supposed to only have milk when we had our breakfast. She had only been here for a few months at the time so she was still pretty nice unlike the orphans that had been here or transferred from another orphanage over the course of several years like I had been.
"I don't mean to." I pouted, and it only took me a few moments or so to chug the entirety of the milk. We all went to bed that night. I woke up to a strange sound, like the window sliding up. But how would that be? The windows were always locked and bolted, nailed, shut. It was late so I could barely see as I squinted. I felt a breeze on my face as I peeked out from behind my blanket. There was a shadow of a man, cloaked from the looks of it. My breath caught in terror, I started to shake a little. He was standing over the girl whose sister had been admitted to the hospital earlier that day and she was still asleep and completely unaware of what was happening. I didn't even know but I was still a child. I yanked the blankets over my head to hide, trying to muffle my whimpers before I heard him leaving. I stayed up all night hiding under my blanket.
The next morning she wouldn't wake up and the hospital was called. I never once told anybody what had happened that day and over time, I eventually buried it in the back of my mind as if it never happened.
Back at the motel in present day, the boys and I were now in our room doing what we did best, monster hunting. I was sharpening the blade I kept in my boot from one of the beds. "It wasn't easy to find out but a Shtriga is a kind of witch." Sam finally said. He was sitting at the table doing research on his laptop. "They're Albanian but legends about them trace back to Ancient Rome." And of course they would find they're way to America. "They feed off Spiritus Vitae." I gave him a 'what the hell' look.
"Spirit-what?" Dean was apparently as confused as I was.
"Vitae." Sam verified. "It's Latin, translates to 'breath of life'." Seriously, who came up with this kind of stuff. "Kinda like your life force or essence."
"So this," I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. "Thing is slowly draining, killing these kids."
"Well the doctor did say they're bodies were wearing out." Dean reminded us.
"It's a thought." Sam pushed himself away from the desk. "She takes your vitality, maybe your immunity goes to hell, pneumonia takes hold. Anyway, shtrigas can fed off anyone but they prefer..." He stopped.
Dean finished for him, "Children."
I shivered in disgust. "Why children and not adults?"
Sam shrugged. "Probably because they had stronger life force and get this. Shtigas are," he stopped to read off his computer screen. "Invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man."
Well that sucks, looks like my sword I've been sharpening would be useless.
Dean however, knew something the Internet apparently didn't. "No, she's vulnerable when she feeds." He said without a doubt. "If you catch her when she's eating, you can blast her with consecrated wrought iron." Sounded like it would hurt like a bitch, my favorite kind of pain. "Buck shots or rounds I think."
"How do you know that?" Sam asked curiously.
"And why are we just now hearing about a way to kill her after the research was done?" I questioned myself.
"Dad told me." Dean shrugged and like an after thought, he said, "I just remembered."
Sam straightened up scowling. "So anything else dad might have mentioned?"
Dean shrugged, riffling through the fridge to trap a beer. "Nope, that's it."
I ran a hand through my hair, dropping my apparently useless sword and sharpened. "Alright then."
"So assuming we can kill it when it eats, we still gotta find the thing first which ain't gonna be a cakewalk." If only Sammy's little psychic visions would be able to help us out with the problem now. "Shtrigas take on a human disguise when they're not hunting." So what, it could literally be anybody?
"What kinda human disguise?" Dean demanded.
"Historically, something innocuous." Sam started. "Could be anything but it's usually a feeble old woman which might be how the witches as old crones legend got started."
I started putting up my knife back into my boot. "Isn't that a lovely thing." I said sarcastically.
"Hang on." Dean suddenly said. "Check this out." He grabbed the map of the town he'd been studying earlier when we first got to the motel. "I marked down all the addresses of the victims." I crossed the room to look as he spread it around across the table and Sam joined us. Dean pointed out marks he made on the map in marker. "These are the houses that have been hit so far and dead center?" He pointed to a spot and my eyes widened as he removed his finger to show what it was.
"The hospital." Sam realized as well.
"The hospital." Dean agreed. "Now when we were there, I saw a patient, an old woman."
"Yeah, very strange." I rolled my eyes. It was common for old people to be in a hospital.
Sam snickered. "Better call the coast guard." Sam joked.
"Listen smart asses." Dean snapped. "She had an inverted cross hanging on her wall." And just like that, it was no longer funny.