HELLHOUND - Supernatural

Two.

Season 2, episode 9.

Croatoan.

Dean loaded his gun with Saron standing behind him, watching his moves, before he slammed into the closed door to open it. Both of them entered the room, Dean with his gun raised whilst Saron remained quiet for a moment and narrowed her eyes at the people in the room just in case they tried to physically intervene with what they were going to do.

Duane was tied to the chair and started to panic when he saw the weapon aimed at him. He tried to thrash, but it was no use. Instead, tears flooded his eyes and his head shook, "No, no no no! You're not gonna- no, I swear! It's not in me!"

Pam, the young, blonde woman, took a nervous step back as she looked between Dean and Saron, "Oh God. We're all gonna die."

The tougher-looking man, named Mark, folded his arms. He didn't know who to believe either. "Maybe he's tellin' the truth."

Dean and Saron began to advance, the cocking of the gun echoed and tensed the room even more. "He's not him, not anymore." Dean stated.

Duane was begging and continued to cry, "No, stop it! Stop it!" He then nodded to the doctor, desperately, "Ask her, ask the Doctor! It's not in me!"

Dr. Lee, the middle-aged woman looked conflicted. Her sympathetic eyes glanced from Duane, to Saron and then to Dean before slightly shaking her head, "I just... I can't tell."

Whilst Duane continued to beg and Dean kept his gun raised, Saron tilted her head slightly and unclenched her fist as she listened to his begging.

'But it might not be him. This could be the.. thing, talking.'

She parted her lips and lowered her head at him, "We have no choice." Saron spoke over his sobs, stepping closer to him as Dean still hadn't fired his gun. She didn't want to wait any longer for this man to be put down. Even though she didn't really know any of these other people and didn't care much about them, this virus-thing will eventually spread to everyone in the next town if they weren't careful. 

Who knows? Maybe Saron could catch it and become crazy again.

Saron brought her hands up to his head and neck, drowning out his pleads by feeling the bones of his neck and jaw eventually snap as she twisted. The young man's breath hitched sharply and his head dropped when she stepped back, lowly looking at his droopy body.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Many hours earlier...

Saron was sitting in the middle of the backseat with Dean and Sam in front of her. She was peering over Sam's shoulder at the device in his hand that spoke every now and again to tell them where to go, which was called a GPS.

"Continue on O-R 2-2-3-4 West."

Saron frowned once again before leaning back against the comfy seat, "This technology stuff freaks me out." She mumbled, eyeing the device suspiciously.

Sam turned his head at her and furrowed his brows, not thinking she was serious for a moment, "This.. freaks you out?"

The woman shrugged, shifting in her seat to fold her legs, "There is a.. perfectly fine map in the boot."

Dean's eyes flickered from the dark road and to Saron's eyes through the rearview mirror, "You mean the trunk."

She huffed at his American correction, tilting her head and sarcastically smiling, "Yes Dean, of course. 'The trunk'." She couldn't help but snicker at the word, finding it funny.