After a quick lesson on point and shoot, we both entered the school armed with our tasers. Kyle led the way to the basement, assuring me not a soul would be around on a Saturday. Descending the steps stealthily, I felt the familiar beginnings of adrenaline filling my belly with butterflies.
The plan was simple enough; for him. But I was the bait. It was out of the question, using a real kid to draw the Rawhead out. I figured if it worked for Gordon and Jo, it could work for me. I had the same small, petite figure as a teenager. Throwing my curly hair in loose pigtails and a spray of Axe just helped sell it more.
The basement was larger than anticipated, only a few flickering lights providing visibility. I was too exposed here, giving the Rawhead the advantage. I forced myself to walk upright, weapon loosely hanging at my side. Giving the air of vulnerability, I crept forward, head on a swivel. Kyle was waiting at the top of the stairs, just out of view, but his presence did little to calm me. He was more of a backup, a distraction if something didn't go the way I planned.
To my right, I heard the boiler start to splutter and moan. It was here. My sharp instincts picked up on the different atmosphere which seemed to appear suddenly. Every creak of the pipes and scurry across the concrete floor helped me zero in on my quarry. I was both the hunter and the hunted, eyes watching my every move.
The groaning rounded a corner ahead of me where the overhead light was conveniently out of service. I paused, balancing on the balls of my feet. Did I spring the trap or try to draw it out in the open? Turning to check on Kyle's position, I realized my mistake a second too late.
The Rawhead wasted no time, materializing from the darkness. Claws outstretched, it took a heavy swing at my head. I ducked out of the way, backpedaling to get out of it's range. Raising my taser, I tried to aim. The quarters were still too close for me to get off a good shot and the creature roared as he continued to close the distance.
Blocking a clawed hand with the gun, I managed to get in a good elbow to the face. "Any time!" I shouted in my partner's direction, hoping he was closer than I expected.
"Get ready!" he called back, sounding like he was on the basement floor instead of the stairs.
I let the Rawhead come barreling towards me, spinning around it at the last second. It should have been perfectly lined up for Kyle's shot. I heard the taser discharge; but when I faced them, the monster was still standing. A single probe was lodged in its thigh, the other having missed.
"Watch out!" I warned, groaning at his piss poor aim. This wouldn't have been a problem with Sam and Dean; or anyone else really.
The monster roared in anger, lunging at my unsuspecting friend. They collided to the floor, Kyle having enough sense to put his arms up in defense. The Rawhead snapped and snarled, straining to get a taste of flesh.
I drew a deep breath, ignoring his panicked grunts. With two hands on the taser, I aimed at the center of it's back before firing. I knew the hit was solid as my finger pressed the trigger. The probes landed exactly where I wanted, electrocuting the thing. It screeched, writhing in mid air for a moment before exploding into dust.
"You good?" I asked, watching Kyle lay prone on the floor. His chest heaved with effort, arms guarding his chest.
"Don't ever ask me for a favor again," came the reply. He struggled onto his side, wincing as he sat upright. I wouldn't be surprised if he had multiple bruised ribs, but nothing should be broken. Extending my hand, I hauled him to his feet. I received a slightly skeptical look, realizing he didn't think I would be strong enough. "Where are the kids?" he asked, head swiveling as he dusted off his clothes.
I bit my lip, hoping I wouldn't need to explain this part of it to him. "This wasn't a rescue mission," I said slowly, letting the words sink in. He simply stared back blankly, not wanting to accept the truth. "I told you; it eats children."
His jaw dropped in disbelief, emotion taking over his face. I frowned sympathetically, digging a spare flashlight out of my jacket pocket. I shone it around the room, letting the light flood the dark, recessed corners. In one of them, we spotted a shredded letterman jacket and bloodstained sneaker.
"How do you do this?" he asked me, voice quivering. I couldn't see his face as he bent over the discarded clothing, needing to touch it for himself.
I hesitated, wanting to rest a hand on his shoulder but thinking better of it. "Lots of unhealthy coping mechanisms," I joked dryly, taking a page from my boyfriend's book. Kyle gave me a sharp look over his shoulder. "Sorry, just a little hunter humor." I shrugged before continuing. "I'm not God; I can't save everyone. But I did save that girl last night." In this line of work, you had to focus on the positives; or you'd drown under the negatives.
He sniffled quietly, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "We need to call the police," he said, standing to face me.
"I wouldn't do that," I told him plainly, crossing my arms.
"And why not?" he demanded, matching my posture.
I made a face, asking if he was really serious. "Where do I begin? The monster that disappeared into thin air. Dead teenagers. And bloody clothes with your fingerprints all over them."
The color drained from his face as he realized the police would find him guilty without any questions asked. "You didn't stop me from touching them!" he shouted quickly, looking for someone to blame.
I scoffed. "I didn't think you'd be dumb enough to involve the police."
"Well, then, what are we supposed to do?"
Shrugging nonchalantly, I said, "I'd take all of that," waving at the clothes, "and burn it somewhere far away; then bury the ashes. And then I'd wipe this whole week from your mind." It was better to get rid of the evidence, instead of letting him or a janitor go to jail for a crime they didn't commit.
He started to pace, obviously distressed by the turn of events. "What about their families?" he finally asked.
Ah, that's what he was hung up on. "They'll never find closure," I reminded him. "But let them keep hoping, imagining they're runaways somewhere far away. That's the kindest thing you can do for them."
I watched his face take on a green hue as his hand went to cover his mouth. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he barely managed to choke.
"I don't do vomit," I told him frantically, taking a step back to avoid whatever might come out of his mouth. He doubled over, dry heaving a few times before the feeling passed. I grabbed a nearby laundry bag and gathered all the evidence in it while waiting for him to recover. "Let's go," I instructed with a jerk of my head.
We drove back in the dark to his place where I had seen a fire pit in the backyard. He lit a match, tossing it in and letting the blaze consume it. I lounged on the nearby outdoor bench, content to wait until it was all cinders. Kyle came to join me, two beers in his hands.
He cracked them open, handing one to me. "Just like old times," he commented, resting his arm on the backrest where it could reach my shoulder.
"Almost," I mumbled, looking at him out of the corner of my eye.
He took a long swig before taking a piece of my hair to roll between his fingers. "You were a real badass tonight," he complimented, glancing up through his lashes at me. I recognized the look, one which would have made my knees weak in college. I was intrigued to find it did nothing to me now. "I've never seen a girl fight so well; and against something twice her size."
Keeping quiet, I ran my tongue along the backside of my teeth. Don't do something stupid, I thought.
"It was really sexy," he breathed, face inching closer to mine. When he whispered my name, I could smell the alcohol on him. His eyelids fluttered, head tilting to the side.
I abruptly turned my face away from him, his lips meeting my cheek instead. "I'm gonna stop you there," I said tersely, my skin starting to crawl. I could hear Dean's nagging voice in the back of my mind.
Kyle at least had the decency to look embarrassed, swallowing heavily. "I'm sorry-" he started to apologize, putting space between us again.
"No, you're not," I shrugged, pointing out the lie. "You had to have known I was in love with you all those years. But you married Karley anyways. And up until like a year ago, this," I wagged my finger at him, "would have worked. But it's too late. I love Dean and he loves me." I wasn't upset as I ranted at him, but it was something I needed to say. Something I had needed to say from the moment he walked back into my life. "And that kills you, doesn't it?" I wondered aloud, seeing the pieces click into place.
His brow furrowed deeply, nostrils flaring. "He's going to get you killed," was all he could come up with.
I chuckled softly, amused at his thinking. "He would kill for me," I drawled with a leering grin, the thought making me suddenly ache for Dean's touch. I must have looked psychotic because he promptly shut up, mouth in a tight line. "You don't have to worry about me anymore. I have a whole family who'll take care of me. So, stay here with your wife and your kids; and keep playing suburbia like nothing's changed."
Setting down my beer, I stood to make my exit. "Are you sure you'll be alright?" he called after me as my hand touched the doorknob.
Glancing back through my hair, I said, "Maybe you should ask yourself that." I didn't look back again.
My chest felt light as I made my way back to the hotel room, butterflies tumbling through my belly. I figured it was leftover adrenaline working its way out of my system as I opened the door. Dean was perched on the edge of our bed, nibbling a French fry, while Sam was standing with an open book in his hand. Their eyes snapped to me as I entered.
I could only beam at them, overflowing with happiness. Just as I was about to open my mouth, something caught in my throat. Oh, god, that wasn't happiness. I dropped everything in my arms and sprinted for the toilet, my stomach lurching. Both boys made it to the bathroom as I vomited up everything in my stomach.
"That bad, huh?" Dean chuckled, rubbing my back as I dry heaved.
Spitting the bile from my mouth, I rocked back to lean against the wall. "Actually, it went pretty well," I informed them, letting my head rest on my boyfriend's shoulder. "Rawhead," I said before they could ask.
"I told you!" Dean bellowed good-naturedly at his brother, pointing a finger. Sam furrowed his brow, spluttering how he couldn't possibly have guessed that with so little information.
"And Kyle tried to kiss me," I admitted, stunning the room into silence.
The air turned chilly as Dean clipped out, "Sam, where's my pistol?" The younger brother was already strolling from the room, not wanting to hear anything he wasn't supposed to.
"Don't," I instructed, pulling his arm when he attempted to rise. "I took care of it." I smiled sweetly, feeling sicker by the second.
He gritted his teeth, torn between murderous rage and concern. Concern for me must have won because he relaxed, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "It wasn't you I didn't trust," he mumbled into my ear, remorse straining his voice. "It was him."
"I know," I said, my voice breathy and eyelids heavy. I let them close for a moment as Dean shuffled beside me. I felt his fingers brush my collar, settling something around my neck. Blinking, I peered at the necklace he had just given me. "What?" I asked confused, seeing Mary's silver ring dangling from a delicate silver chain. I knew what this ring meant to him, one of few things he had of his mom. And it never left his hand.
The tips of his ears turned crimson as he shyly stared at the tile. "I love you and I figured you should have something to prove it so this kinda thing don't happen again."
I squeezed his hand affectionately, knowing what it meant for him to entrust it to me. "I'd kiss you if you hadn't just watched me vomit," I chuckled lightly, suppressing the urge to get sick again. I didn't win for long, clutching the toilet bowl with white knuckles.
"Drink this," Dean demanded, shoving a Gatorade in my hand. "Get a damp washcloth for her head," he shouted to Sam in the other room. They continued to fuss over me until I was on the mend a few days later, hardly letting me lift a finger. Like I told Kyle, I had a family to take care of me now.