In no way was I expecting to write this at this pace. But this story has been SO fun it practically writes itself. Enjoy!
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Their next hunt brought them to Minnesota. A lakeside town with too many drownings for a normal September. And all those drownings were young, single men.
"It's probably a ruskalka," Ji-a said from her place at the breakfast table their first morning in town. She'd gone over the research for all of fifteen minutes before reaching that conclusion.
"Ruskalka?" Dean asked.
"You two usually have ghosts and demons?" Ji-a raised an eyebrow.
"Lately," Sam admitted.
"You're rusty," Ji-a chuckled, "Ruskalka are water spirits. They're undead. But they're not ghosts."
She opened her laptop and opened a file.
"I wrote this paper a few years back on maliciously-killed undead. Ruskalka are on the list. Young women murdered in or near a body of water. Young, unmarried women, specifically," she scrolled until she found the passage she wanted then turned the computer around and pushed it in Sam's direction, "They lure single men to the water and drown them with their hair."
"Charming," Sam snorted.
"So you burn them?" Dean asked.
"No," Ji-a shook her head, "You avenge them."
"So what, we've got to find out who this thing was and then take out whoever killed her?" Dean asked.
"That's what the lore says," Ji-a replied, closing her computer, "Not necessarily kill them. But make sure they are held accountable."
"So, death records?" Dean suggested.
Sam nodded, "I'll take county clerk's office. You two head to the library."
They pored over death records all day and Sam found their most likely lead around six o'clock that night. A young woman who'd died three years earlier. Body found mangled in the shallows of the lake. No suspects. Her boyfriend swore it was a wolverine.
"Does the kid have an alibi?" Dean asked as he flipped through the file Sam deposited in their hotel room.
"We'll have to track him down and ask," Sam replied.
Justin Anders had picked up a job at a local beer factory, working in quality control. So they put on suits and forged Ji-a a passable FBI badge and cornered him the next morning.
"Justin Anders?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," replied a young man, looking up from a workstation full of tiny cups, vials, test-strips and syringes. He didn't look like a killer. Then again. That meant next to nothing.
In the three days they'd been working another high school boy had violently drowned. If things didn't pan out with Justin they were going to interview the latest victim's sister - the sole witness - later that afternoon.
"FBI," Sam pulled out his badge, "I'm Sam. My partners Dean and Jenny."
"I swear we passed our health inspection," Justin blurted out, then clapped both his latex-gloved hands over his mouth.
"We're actually here about a cold case," Dean replied, "Though I'm sure the county inspector would love to give a second look at that health inspection."
Justin's face drained of all color.
"Where were you the night of June 23rd, 2005?" Sam asked.
And that was when he bolted.
Sam sprinted after Justin with Dean and Ji-a close on his heels.
Which is when they heard a gunshot and saw a stream of half-brewed beer start pouring from a puncture in the vat to their left.
"Shit," Dean snapped.
Sam skirted behind the massive brewing equipment, hoping he could catch Justin from the other side.
"Stay," Dean instructed, pushing Ji-a's back against the factory wall before running along the righthand side of the brewing vats.
And she stayed. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't going up against a guy with a gun when she didn't have so much as a switchblade.
She heard thundering footsteps, other workers started screaming. Another gunshot. Then two in close succession. More screaming.
Sam appeared from behind the rapidly-emptying vat of beer and shoved two panicked-looking older men in hairnets and lab coats towards her.
"Get them outside," he instructed.
Ji-a froze. Contradicting orders weren't something she'd really considered.
"But…" she began.
"Go!" Sam insisted.
So Ji-a grabbed each of the traumatized workers by the hand and started running for the door. She heard, rather than saw, a bullet fly far too close to her head for comfort - breaking off a chunk of cement from the factory wall.
Ji-a ducked, pulling the workers down with her. And that's where Dean found her. Sitting with her head between her knees and an arm clutched around each of the aging brewery employees.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her up, eyes hard with rage.
"I told you to stay were I put you," Dean growled, pulling her towards the car.
"Wait," Ji-a tried to shrug him off, stopping in her tracks, "Sam told me to take them outside."
"He did what?" Dean asked, not letting go.
"He came and he grabbed me and told me to get them outside. Then people started shooting in our direction so I thought getting down was safer than running," Ji-a replied, fighting to keep her voice even as Dean started towards the car again.
Her pulse was racing and she could feel post-adrenaline tremors starting in her limbs.
"Justin's dead," Sam said when he caught up.
"So we did it?" Ji-a asked.
"Yeah," Dean agreed, opening the back of the car and herding her inside.
"Shouldn't we leave before cops show up?" Ji-a asked a moment before he slammed the door.