Chapter Nine: Jericho Sucks
Present day…
Main POV
Dean might have been less muddy, but Sam was right when he said he smelled like a toilet. Whatever filth he was covered in, reeked. With the dirt soaked through the knees and shins of my jeans, I knew I must stink too. Still, the motel in town left promise of a hot shower, and a laundry where we could wash our clothes. Sliding easily into the backseat, I settled myself, head against the headrest and staring at the ceiling. There had been many a night and day where I'd stared at this very ceiling, trying to get a little sleep, trying to figure out life. Hell, I'd laid here the very first night I'd met Dean again, wondering if I was going to survive the pain in my leg. Dramatic, I know, but it had really hurt at the time. Down to the hot blood bubbling down my leg and right onto the floor. The same floor he'd not bothered to clean. Although I distinctly remembered being told if I bled on the seat I'd have to clean it, he'd said nothing about the floor.
''You should really get that blood out, anyone pulls you over's gonna worry, regardless of having a reasonable explanation for it,'' I said and he scoffed, turning to glare back at me.
''S'your blood, you clean it up,'' he said and I smiled to myself, shaking my head as I stared at the ceiling.
''Don't bet on it,'' I replied and relaxed to the sound of the music and the rumbling of the engine until we made it to the first motel listed in the phonebook, as per usual. It had been my family rule, and theirs, so it made me wonder if everyone who ever stayed at these motels were hunters. That would be ironic.
The bell to the office jingled overhead in the early morning light as Dean marched inside, ready to get the evening's filth off of himself. Following him inside, I stood shoulder to shoulder with him, while Sam stood a foot or two back. The clerk looked at us, staring in disdain and disgust for a moment at Dean, who simply slapped a blue credit card down on top of the guest ledger. Glancing at the card, I bit the inside of my cheek when I noticed the name. Hector Aframian, VersaBank Mastercard.
''One room, please,'' he said too confidently for someone this covered in river silt. The clerk eyed the card, picking it up and inspecting it with scrutiny. He glanced up at us, eyeing us with suspicion.
''You guys having a reunion or something?'' he asked and like something out of a sitcom, the three of us cocked our heads slightly to the side.
''What do you mean?'' Sam asked.
''You three, plus I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month,'' the clerk explained and Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. Stepping forwards to lean my elbows on the counter, and popping a leg behind myself in an easy, flirtatious stance, I smiled at him.
''That sounds like my father in law,'' I said sweetly, noticing the two morons behind me hadn't done much to answer the guy. ''I wouldn't say reunion, but it's Hector and I's one year wedding anniversary. Burt works on the road, probably decided to wait for us here. It's a nice little town you got here, it's why we picked it. You get up to the diner much, sweet little waitresses.''
''Yeah, to you, maybe,'' he scoffed, eying me. ''You're the kinda girl that butter wouldn't melt n'er mouth. Bet you're the kinda girl anybody'd do anything for. Not so much the same for a crusty old man just barely scraping by.''
''Oh, you should be kinder to yourself,'' I said, reaching out for the hand he had resting on the counter. ''You're not some crusty old man, I bet you could be real sweet. What room's my father in law staying in, by the way?''
''Oh, I can't give that kinda inform…'' he started and I gave his hand a squeeze, smiling extra sweet.
''Oh come on, we're meeting up anyway, what's the harm?'' I asked, giving him a wink for good measure.
''Now, I can't tell you where he's staying. You'll just have to sign in the ledger, just like he did, and find him yourself,'' he said and I beamed at him.
''Of course, wouldn't want you to make yourself uncomfortable for little ol' me,'' I said, starting to fill out the book and skimming through for any mentions of a Burt. ''Alright and the date of check in is… November 2. There, done. Thanks very much.''
''Here's yer room key. Two queens gonna be a problem?'' he said and I shook my head.
''So long as it's not one,'' I said with a wink. Stepping out of the office, I led the boys towards John's room, seeing as neither of them had done much but stare at each other and look confused. ''Alright, here it is.''
''How do you do that?'' Dean asked and I blinked at him, cocking my head to the side.
''What?'' I replied.
''Just get anybody to do what you want?'' he said and I scoffed.
''Not anybody, don't you remember the Wilkers place? That old bitch practically wanted to eat me alive,'' I argued as Sam squatted by the door. ''I will admit it was kinda strange being down there, lots of people just seemed too eager to help me with anything I might need. I chalked it down to southern kindness but we..''
''Were in the midwest, I know. But it's a lot of people,'' he said and I nodded.
''Cute blonde?'' I said with an optimistic shrug. He scoffed, shaking his head at me.
''Now, there's a lot I would do for a cute blonde, but even I'm not that helpful,'' he said and it was my turn to laugh at him. Crossing my arms over my chest, I leaned back against the wall of the motel.
''That's because you're lazy,'' I said, just as the door swung open. Sam stepped inside and Dean stood there, glaring at me. Sidestepping the two, I headed inside. Dean still stood there, causing Sam to step forwards with one foot, grab his brother by the collar, and yank him inside.
Closing the door behind us, Sam looked around the room in awe. If I didn't know what John did for a living, I'd assume it had something to do with being a serial killer, it had that kind of vibe to the room. Every vertical surface had papers pinned to it, from maps, newspaper clippings, and pictures, to handwritten notes. All that was missing was the red twine and targets. Maybe a few knives in the wall. The desk was littered with books and assorted junk. The bed was unmade, like he'd simply rolled out of it, and the floor was covered in all sorts, including something with a hazardous-materials symbol.
''Whoa,'' Sam said and I nodded.
''Dude, are you sure John's not a murderer,'' I said, making him snort. Dean headed over to the bed, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand. There was a half eaten burger sitting there, and he picked it up to give it a sniff. Although if not for his instant recoil and screwed up face, I wouldn't have put it past him to take a bite.
''I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least,'' he surmised from his burger sniffing. There was a salt line on the floor, Sam was squatted by it fingering the granules. Looking up at us, he showed a little concern, finally, for the man that brought him into this world.
''Salt, cats-eye shells...he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in,'' Sam said and I felt my brow furrowing. John Winchester did not scare easily. There was no way. Dean walked closer to the walls, inspecting them better now he was done judging John's eating habits.
''What have you got here?'' Sam asked.
''Centennial Highway victims,'' Dean answered, glancing up at his younger brother. John had mapped all the victims out in chronology, Mark somebody, William Durrell, Scott Nifong who disappeared in 1987 at age 25, and somebody Parks. Mark, Durrell, and Nifong are all white males, judging by the photos. But there were more, as the wall continued, breaking the pattern.
''I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs..'' Dean said, noticing the same thing I had. ''..ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?''
Another light flicked on, attracting my attention and I walked away from Dean and over to Sam who had a printout in between his fingers as it hung on the wall. There was a note above it, 'Woman in White'. Looking at the printout, I spotted the Jericho Herald article we'd found earlier, Constance's suicide.
''Dad figured it out,'' Sam said, glancing down at me from his superior height. Footsteps crossing the room signalled this piqued Dean's interest, and he leaned over my head to get a look at what Sam and I had our eyes on.
''What do you mean?'' he said.
''He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's a woman in white,'' Sam explained and Dean looked back across the room at all the victims. Well, we found the connection.
''You sly dogs,'' Dean said before turning back to his brother. ''All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it.''
''She might have another weakness,'' Sam argued and I rested my hands behind my head.
''Well, Dad would want to make sure,'' Dean argued. I never realised just how much he worshipped his father before, how quick he was to defend the man. Sure, John was a good guy, or at least I always thought so, but the kinda guy who just leaves all this out in the open, that guy was sloppy, careless. Leave no trail behind, one of Hunting's most important rules. ''He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?''
''No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I'd go ask her husband,'' Sam said and I bit my lip. Guy had to be in his sixties by now. ''If he's still alive.'' Bingo.
''All right. Why don't you, uh, see if you can find an address, I'm gonna get cleaned up,'' Dean said and I nodded.
''Ditch your clothes, I'll go to the laundry and get everything cleaned up, yeah?'' I said and he nodded.
''You know, you're pretty muddy too, you don't wanna save water, shower together,'' he said and I rolled my eyes. ''Your loss sweetheart.''
''With the way you smell, I'm not sure it is,'' I said with a laugh. He turned to walk towards the bathroom door, leaving things at that. No way I was boinking him in the shower when his little brother was a room away, even if his brother was an adult, it was still wrong.
''Hey, Dean?'' Sam said, making Dean pause mid step and turn around. ''What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry.'' Dean held up a hand to stop him. I had my eyebrows raised, this had to have happened while I was asleep in the Impala's backseat.
''No chick-flick moments,'' Dean said simply, making Sam laugh.
''All right. Jerk,'' Sam said, making Dean smile.
''Bitch,'' Dean replied and I shook my head, watching as he made it to the backroom. Looking Sam's way, I screwed up my face.
''I'll never understand boys,'' I said, making Sam laugh again. There was a wet sounding slap on the bathroom floor and the shower started. Pushing the door open a crack, I grabbed Dean's discarded clothes and scooped them up in a pile. ''I'll leave you to it, be back in a bit. Give me a holler if you need me.''
''Alright,'' Sam said, sounding distracted as he stared at something in the mirror.
Why I'd volunteered to do Dean's laundry, I wasn't quite sure. Although I suspect it had something to do with him having jumped off a bridge recently. Normally I wasn't the type, I didn't do guys' laundry, or make them food, I wasn't their mother, and I wouldn't let them make me be her. Excluding of course Lex, but he knew his way around, and we took it in turns. But today, I just felt a little bad for poor Dean, every stinky inch of him. However, it would have been easier if I was getting bloodstains out, all I had to do for that was dump them in a sink trough full of cold water and pour salt over it, and I usually had plenty of that. Then it was a waiting game. And graveyard dirt usually came out pretty easy, provided the dirt was mostly dry. This mud however, ooh boy, that would be a doozy.
It might even take me all afternoon. But I supposed that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Dean hadn't asked me to come on this hunt with my expertise in hunting. It wasn't even about John. For some reason, he'd needed a friend. And I couldn't work out if it was to help deal with the tension between him and Sam, or to deal with the stress of a missing father. Or maybe he'd just wanted to get laid on his way by, and brought me along for the ride. The man was a mystery to me, and I couldn't blame him for that. When I'd first met him, I'd been a mystery to him.
It was fairly easy to get the mud off his leather jacket, however, so once that was done, I dropped it back with Sam while Dean was still in the shower. He seemed to want to ask me something, so I dipped almost immediately in favour of the stinky laundry. The whole place was gross, full of mildew and mould from the heat of the machines and all the water, so I barely noticed how Dean's clothes smelt soaking in the trough. Sitting on top of the machine as it lurched and rocked underneath me while I waited for the clothes to go around in their cycle, I began to wish I'd brought a book. Any old crusty paperback would have done something just to occupy the mind as I sat here wondering why that old man had been so turned by my charm. With nothing else to think about, I started to agree with Dean. Something wasn't right. I'd always felt it, but now he saw it too I couldn't brush it off. There would be no hiding it under the carpet.
With the laundry in the dryer I paced around the room, trying to do something, anything, to pass the time. When that didn't work, I stood by the small window in the door, deciding on people watching. There was a police cruiser parked in the lot, and two officers from the county sheriff's department approaching someone that looked an awful lot like Dean. He was wearing his jacket again, which led me to believe it definitely was him. Disappearing from view, I hurried deeper into the laundry and ducked down by the 'STAFF ONLY' equipment room door handle, pulling a safety pin off my rosary bracelet.
Hurriedly picking the lock, I tried to concentrate on getting the job done while constantly watching my six. The lock popped and I sighed in relief as I pushed it open, ducked inside, and closed the door behind me. Inside was a bunch of shelves surrounded by boxes. With all the speed I possessed, I moved a few boxes, slid across the polished concrete floor and under the bottom shelf. With the last move I dared make with the sound of the exterior door opening I pulled the boxes in front of me, hopefully shielding me from view.
Footsteps walking around the room reminded me oh so painfully that I hadn't remembered to lock the storeroom door behind me when I'd ducked in, so there was one less barrier between me and law enforcement. While I hadn't actually done anything - today - it was likely they knew I was with Dean and Sam. I had no intention of being made to squeal, nor did I plan to be used as bait. Which led me to an impasse. Because they likely would find me, and I had no idea if they didn't, how I was going to get out of this one. Tilting my head straight back - or as much as I could under the shelf - I tried to keep my breathing shallow, quiet. My pulse hammered in my ears, more so than it did on a particularly death defying hunt, and I could barely hear the sound of the door creaking open. Feeling my eyes start to well up, fearful tears threatened to spill over the banks. Only seeing one set of dress shoes and uniform slacks, I thanked my lucky stars they both hadn't come in here.
The feet walked out of view and I felt myself instantly start to relax as I heard the eerie creak once again followed by the latch from the handle popping back into the door jam where it belonged. Silently letting out a heavy breath, I lay on the floor for a moment, hoping to regain a little of my mental faculties before I planned my next move. It was likely that Dean already informed Sam what was going on, all I needed to do was find him again once it was safe to leave my hiding spot. That time, however, would likely be never, as Derek & The Dominos' Layla started playing in my pocket and I swore.
''What the hell,'' I heard and someone came storming back towards me. The door opened and the person searching took a much deeper inspection into the room. I made eye contact with the searching deputy, and they gave me a scowl after the initial look of realisation wore off. Immediately the boxes I'd hidden myself behind were swiped away and a hand encircled each of my wrists. Yanking me forwards, I slid across the floor on my stomach and was brought to the officer's eye level. It had been the lighter skin of the two officers, meaning the other was with Dean, if he should still be here.
''No hablo inglés,'' I said with the utmost conviction and he simply raised an eyebrow at me. He smirked slightly, as he eyed me.
''Sure sweetheart,'' he said with a scoff. He brought my wrists together, holding them firmly with one large hand managing to wrap the whole way around. ''What do you know about the Aframians?''
''¿Oms?'' I asked, blinking at him in confusion. He sighed, shaking his head at me, looking at me like I was some silly girl.
''You might know them under a different name, we sure as hell know that ain't their real one. The two men you checked into the motel with,'' he said and I shook my head. ''Now, before you pretend you don't know them, know I have CCTV footage of you at check in, and an eyewitness to place the three of you together. Understand?'' he said and I nodded softly. ''Good, now I don't think you're involved in this, so why don't we work something out, alright?''
''¿Que…?'' I started but he cut me off by pressing a finger to my lips. Bringing his palm up to cup my jaw, his thumb switched places with his index finger, and started stroking gently at my bottom lip.
''It's such a shame to see a sweet little thing like yourself get caught up in all this,'' he said, holding me so tight I feared moving. But I guess that was what he'd wanted. ''Let me help you. You gonna be a good girl for me?''
''I don't think the reception office has CCTV,'' I murmured, shaking my head in confusion. I checked. I always check these things. Since their introduction, I'd been pretty thorough in checking for security cams. Specifically so I'd stop getting arrested when I lifted stuff for Lex. ''I.. don't think I want the kind of help you're offering.''
''Nonsense, it's nothing bad sweetheart,'' he said, stepping closer to box me into the doorway to the backroom. It felt pretty bad. ''Now, all you have to do, is use that pretty little mouth of yours.'' The thumb that was tracing my bottom lip slipped underneath the top one, running over my teeth and the inside of my mouth.
''No,'' I said quietly, shaking my head, although it was hard to speak with his thumb in my mouth. There was no way he was seriously trying to get me to give him a blowie on the promise I could walk away from this. I wouldn't be in the station particularly long even if I was arrested.
The hand cupping my jaw and touching the inside of my mouth moved to my throat, wet thumb pressing down in the soft spot in the centre of my collar bone. Plender gap or something. He pressed down hard, making me gasp. Using a surprising amount of force, he used the hold he had on my neck to push me towards the ground and I dropped to my knees, bones hitting the concrete hard. Crying out softly, mostly due to the shock of the impact, I tried to figure a way out of this. This was not happening to me again. I wouldn't let it. Cop or no cop. Jericho sucks. I'm never coming back here.
''How about this then, your little boyfriend, we have him in cuffs already, he's going to the station. We know what he's done, we have enough to nail him. He's going to jail, and he'll be put away for a long time,'' he said, not sounding much like a threat. Not only did Dean not kill these people - especially given he was three when the first victim went missing - they didn't have any evidence to suggest he did. Also, he was a professional hunter, we were masters at lying to and evading the cops. Or, at least everyone else seemed to be. I was in a rather large pot of hot water right about now. ''That's not up for negotiation, however, if you want him to make it to the station, then you stay there on your knees, and you open your hot little mouth.''
''Are you threatening to kill some man I don't know, just to get a blowjob?'' I asked, spluttering and shaking my head. Cops didn't usually take to threats of murder, just what the hell was going on? ''How desperate to get laid are you?''
His hand cracked across my jaw and he reached for the cuffs on his belt. They jingled as he fastened one over my wrist and he dragged me by it over to the shelves. He slipped the chain around the support for the shelf and fastened it over my other wrist. It was easy to be brave during a hunt, but this, this was different. It was not easy to be brave here, so I let out a whimper as he approached my kneeling form. He pulled his pants apart, fisting his stubby cock. Some cop this was, what happened to protect and serve? I sure didn't feel protected, although he certainly expected me to serve.
''Open,'' he commanded and I scoffed. He slapped me across the face again, making my jaw burn. ''Come on, your boyfriend's fate hang in the balance.''
''He's not my boyfriend, and even if he was, no good guy would ask this of their girlfriend. And no cop should either,'' I said defiantly. He chuckled, reaching forwards for my jaw, squeezing the junctures through my cheeks, forcing my mouth open. I moaned softly, pain trying to erase any bravery I held onto. ''My answers still no,'' I said awkwardly, drool spilling out of my mouth.
''There are plenty of crooked cops out there sweetheart, but you're right. This one is screaming in my head for me to stop, doesn't want you to do this for him. It's a shame really, a pretty little thing like you, such a good little girl, you could really make him happy. You're just his type,'' he said and I furrowed my brow as I stared up at him. His eyes flashed black as he smirked. ''You remember me?''
''You,'' I whispered, mostly to myself. Him. It was him.
''You grew up so pretty, wish I could have waited until now to really make you scream, that could have been very interesting, seeing how well you'd fight,'' he told me, fisting the officer's cock. Tugging against my cuffs was futile, but it didn't stop me from trying. ''But, I had to make sure you were pure, had to get you young. Plus, I'd been watching you for so long, it was easy to grow impatient. Such a cute little girl, screamed so beautifully. Felt sodamngood forcing my way inside you. So tight, so bloody. It was perfect. But now I wanna feel your mouth.''
''No,'' I said firmly and he took his hand off my jaw, stepping back with a belly aching laugh.
''You still believe you have any say in the matter? Oh sweetheart,'' he said and lunged forwards, grabbing my hair off the back of my head and yanking it hard into the shelves. I cried out and he thrust forwards, jamming his dick into my throat.
Coughing and spluttering around him, I felt gross globs of spit dribbling down my chin and neck. Making a startled gagging noise I tugged harder against my cuffs. There was a strange, stained and struggling noise coming out of the back of my throat every time he hit the back of it and I fought tooth and nail for breath. Hey. That wasn't a bad idea. Refusing to resign to my fate, my teeth bared down, sinking deeply into the flesh beyond my lips causing him to cry out. I knew there was a person in there, but I couldn't find it within myself to feel sorry for the officer trapped inside as I chomped my way to freedom. He screamed out quite violently as I bit down and he used the hand gripping my hair to slam my head back into the shelves, over and over and over until I released my hold.
He pulled out and I felt myself sobbing, despite my lungs having no air. Tears streamed quickly down my red hot face, although that had already been happening thanks to the trauma of the situation, as well as the gasping for breath. There was another crack against my jaw and if I wasn't hanging by my wrists I probably would have hit the deck. Laughing like a supervillain, the cop stepped away from me, as if it was funny to him I'd just all but bitten his junk off. Although, given he was actually a demon, this was hardly surprising. While I'd hurt him, I hadn't really hurt him. Slumping down as much as the cuffs would allow, I let myself sob, distressed and sore and so over it. Leaning my head back against the shelf, I tried to open up my airways as much as I could, regain as much of my breath as I could before I undoubtedly had to fight this guy with both hands tied behind my back.
''You really are a spirited bitch, aren't you?'' he said, breathing heavily. His hand was covered in blood as he rubbed his dick, jerking it as if he still planned to use it now I'd ripped it to shreds. ''If it makes you feel any better, sweetheart, he doesn't blame you.''
''I'm never gonna give you what you want, give it up,'' I told him and he scoffed, squatting down beside me. Leaning in real close to my face, he gripped my jaw, holding on tight and smearing the blood, drool and tears.
''That's where you're wrong, princess,'' he smirked, delving forwards and licking a stripe up my cheek, getting a taste of all that blood and snot. He wiped my nose with his hand and chuckled again. ''I'm gonna come see you again, one way or another. Remember, you still have something of mine, sealed away in that little iron box of yours. That's right, I know where he is, I'm just waiting, biding my time. I'll see my son again, I promise you that.''
''Fuck… you…'' I panted out and he laughed, cocking his head back as he walked out of the room, leaving me cuffed to the shelf.
The door opened and closed, and despite still being handcuffed and on my knees, I finally relaxed. It was over. That relief was short lived however, when I heard the door going again and rushed footsteps headed my way. Letting out a whimpered cry, I prayed he wasn't back, even though I didn't know who else it could be. A head poked around the door and I cried harder. For once, my prayers were answered.
''Katie?'' Sam said, diving forwards and dropping to his knees beside me. ''Are you okay? What happened?''
''Get me out of here,'' I cried, shaking as I hung there. He nodded, looking at my wrists, touching them gingerly but still making me flinch. He wore a look of concern as he looked at them.
''We're gonna have to make a stop at the drugstore, you're cut up pretty bad,'' he said and I whimpered. ''Okay, I've gotta get these off.''
''There's a safety pin on my rosary,'' I said and he glanced up at my face. Shaking my wrist lightly, my watch, length of string, and rosary bracelet jingled, attracting his attention. He nodded, unfastening the pin. It was already pretty bent out of shape for all the many times I'd used it to pick locks, and these cuffs were no different. He quickly got one of my wrists free and I brought it to my chest, cradling it as he released the other.
''Okay,'' he said and offered me a hand up. Lurching forwards, I clung to his chest, letting out body wracking sobs. He sighed, wrapping his arms around me and rubbing my back. ''Okay, it's okay, you're okay.''
Eventually, he was able to coax me up off the floor, and we grabbed the now dry clothes and headed to the car. John's motel room door now had crime scene tape blocking our entry but that didn't much matter, we were booking it anyway. Sitting in the passenger side, I let Sam take us to the main stretch of town, stayed put while he went into the local pharmacy. Sitting perfectly still, I let him work on my wrists and rode with him to Constance's husband's new house. I wasn't much for conversation, and I still had someone else's blood on my face, so I stayed put then too. I could tell Sam had questions, and I wanted to be able to tell him, but the only person who knew about all that stuff was Dean, and he was most likely in the police station right now.
''You uh…'' Sam said when he climbed back into the car. The sun was starting to set now, which likely meant the hunt was almost over. We just had to burn up this bitch, and it was over. Her husband had told Sam where she was buried no doubt, it was almost over.
''What?'' I said quietly, tilting my head to look over at him.
''You wanna talk about it?'' he asked and I smiled softly, shaking my head. ''Well, I'm gonna get Dean back, he'll be back soon.''
''I don't really wanna talk to him either,'' I murmured, rubbing my face with my hands. The dried blood was starting to get itchy. ''I… I'm not ready. I just wanna go home.''
''Katie…'' he started and then cut himself off.
''This job has always been dangerous, sometimes, we get hurt, you know?'' I said, looking up at him as he drove. He nodded, glancing between me and the road.
''But it's usually the monsters that do the hurting, not the people. Humans, we don't expect it from them,'' Sam said and I scoffed, shaking my head.
''No, humans can be bad. We do awful things, I mean god, Sam, you're becoming a lawyer, you know that,'' I said and he nodded. ''But at least you're right this time, he wasn't human.''
''What?'' he said, turning back to me in shock. I shook my head.
''Just get Dean,'' I said and he nodded.
''I'm on it,'' he promised and pulled out his cellphone.