Monachopsis

Chapter XXIX: What The Hell's A Shtriga?

The motel at 2400 Court was our home for the next few days. The decision was unanimous. I didn't care either way which dingy motel we shacked up in. I was too busy scanning the worn pages of my mother's hunting journal for anything useful about this shtriga. 

Nothing.

Dean pulled the Impala to a stop outside the motel main office and shut off the engine. I put my mother's journal back in my duffel bag and swallowed the sudden lump in my throat as I buried in under my clothes. I shoved my bag down to the floorboard and climbed out of the backseat.

Sam slammed the passenger door shut. "So what the hell is a shtriga?"

Dean closed the driver's side door. "It's kind of like a witch, I think. I don't know much about them."

"Well, I've never heard of it," said Sam. "And it's not in Dad's journal."

"It's not in my mother's either," I said. I crossed my arms over my chest. "I've certainly never hunted anything like this. What do you know, Dean?"

My brother shrugged, but his shoulders were too tense to be casual. He opened the trunk and answered absently. "Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about 16, 17 years ago." He turned to Sam. "You were there, you don't remember?"

"No," Sam said.

Dean continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I guess he caught wind that the thing's in Fitchburg now and kicked us the coordinates."

"Why would he do that?" I demanded. Ice was starting to settle in the pit of my stomach. 

Dean shrugged again. "Don't know. Maybe he figured since we were headed in this direction anyway, might as well give us something to do."

I opened my mouth, intending on ripping into John and his bullshit agenda, but Sam spoke first. "So, wait, this..."

"Shtriga," Dean said.

"Right. You think it's the same on Dad hunted before?"

Dean shut the trunk. "Yeah, maybe." He made towards the office door.

Sam followed him around the car. "But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air?"

He had a point. For all the things John Winchester was, he was first and foremost a ruthless hunter. This was the first I was ever hearing of him failing to have killed his prey.

Dean didn't turn back as he answered. "Because it got away."

"Got away?" Sam echoed.

Dean whirled on us, getting agitated. "Yeah, Sammy, it happens."

"Not very often," said Sam.

"Not at all, if Dad had anything to say about it," I added, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets.

Faced with our probing and dissatisfaction at his vague answers, Dean began to bristle. He threw his arms up. "I don't know what to tell you guys. Maybe Dad didn't have his Wheaties that morning."

Dean turned, intent on leaving the conversation. Frustration boiled up in me like magma.

But Sam was having none of it. "What else do you remember?"

"Nothing," Dean insisted. "I was a kid, alright?"

I shook my head and scoffed. "Whatever you say, man." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a card. I offered it to Dean. "Here. For mine."

"I'm getting the premium package. It comes with a minibar," he told me, taking the credit card from my hand.

I rolled my eyes. "My card, my booze."

A sliver of a smile twitched on his face, but then he was gone. The bell on the door announced his arrival, and a young boy appeared from the back to help him.

I turned to Sam. "What the hell is John playing at? First he sends us to the middle of nowhere without an explanation, and now he wants us cleaning up his messes?"

"I don't know, Gray." Sam sighed. "I mean, I don't like it either, but it's not like we can just walk away. These kids are sick."

His logic made me angry. I snorted, "Yeah. I know. But I'm not gonna start asking 'how high' every time John wants us to jump."

"No one's asking you to." I gave him a look. Sam raised his hands in surrender. "Look, all I'm saying is that you two could at least try to get along. At least until we find Dad."

I sighed, slumping my shoulders. "Which wont be anytime soon if Dad has any say in it."

The office door springing open saved us from the awkward silence that was about to ensue. Dean emerged, waving too room tickets in bored triumph. He announced, "Two rooms, conjoined. Lets settle in. I need a drink."