Dearest Readers,
I have some quick updates coming your way so follow this story/follow me to make sure you stay up to date!
BTW I am alive, thank you for asking.
XOXO Ally Layne.
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They had been driving for a long, long time. And with two men who have been surviving off of junk food for the past week as her only companions, it was quite grotesque sitting in the backseat of the Impala.
However, she decided that she would sooner lose her mind from their nearly-constant arguing rather than from the stench of their farts.
"I don't understand, Dean. Why not?"
Dean's grip on the wheel tightened. "Because I said so."
"We got the Colt now!"
"Sam-"
"We can summon the crossroads demon, pull the gun on her, and force her to let you out of the deal-"
"We're not summoning anything-"
"We'll just shoot her!"
Dean shook his head. "We don't even know if that'll work!"
"If we just shoot her then the deal will go away-"
"We don't know if that works either, Sam, all you're pitching to me is a bunch of 'buts' and 'maybes' and that's not good enough because if we screw with this deal, you die!"
Sam's eyes darkened in fury. "And if we don't screw with it, you die!"
"Sam, enough! I am not going to have this conversation!"
Sam laughed mockingly. "Why, because you said so?"
Dean nodded, eyes piercing out onto the darkened road. "Yes, because I said so!"
"Well, you're not dad!"
Persie's mouth dropped open. She had only known these men for about a month and even she knew to steer clear from the topic of John Winchester.
This must've just violated some sort of bro-code.
"No, but I am the oldest-"
Sam let out a heavy sigh, leaning his head back against the headrest.
"And I'm doing what's best!" Dean turned his eyes from the road to look at his brother intently. "You got to let this go, do you understand me?"
Persie pursed her lips and leaned her head back against her seat.
When Sam didn't answer, Dean decided to bring up the newest case. "Tell me about the psychotic killer."
For once, Persie thought that she would much rather be in a room with that psychotic killer than with these two while in an argument. At least she could kill that psycho, whereas she was told from Bobby to keep these two psychos out of trouble.
Alas, it's as if these two were just as bad at attracting trouble as she was.
"Come on, Sam, tell me about the psychotic killer."
Sam let out another sigh and took out the newspaper he had been reading before. "The psychotic killer," he read aloud, "rips people apart with a brute like ferocity."
Persie started flipping riptide in pen form around with her hand.
"Okay, any mention of his razor-sharp teeth or his four-inch claws, animal eyes?"
She let out a cough, interrupting Dean. "Or her. We are living in-"
"The twenty-first century, yes, yes, I know, Kelpie," Dean finished, rolling his eyes at her through the rearview mirror.
Ah, and she had acquired a new nickname. Just a few days after their first hunt, Dean had approached her and apologized for being a jerk about her trying to save their lives. Uncle B probably had something to do with it, but she didn't care. At least the man had the guts to admit to his faults.
She stuck out her tongue at him, making the older Winchester break out into a laugh.
"Well, no, there's no mention of that," Sam continued, smartly ignoring their interaction. Just as Persie had smartly ignored their argument. "The lunar cycle's right, though. Look, if it is a werewolf, we don't have long. Moon's full this Friday, and that's the last time it changes for a month."
Dean nodded. "Two days, no sweat."
"Or farts, I hope," Persie grumbled.
Sam rolled his eyes.
Dean shrugged. "What can I say? Sammy's gassy."
"Stop calling me that, Dean!"
And then the Winchesters started arguing about their gassiness and who had the worse smelling farts between the two of them.
Persie was just pleased they weren't arguing about Dean's untimely demise.
She didn't want to think about that.
.
.
.
.
.
The next morning, the three hunters were standing in the hospital room of the only survivor of the town's latest attack.
The larger man lying in bed was wearing a light blue hospital gown and Persie's eyes immediately went to the claw mark that graced his forehead. It was held together with butterfly bandages and a few stitches, something she was painfully familiar with.
He looked rather nonplussed to see two large men and one stand-offish woman walk into this hospital room uninvited, but she supposed she shouldn't judge him too harshly.
Persie stood off to the side in a pantsuit, put together with heels considering she was with two tall men. The boys took the lead, holding up their fake badges and admired their looks while they were dressed up for a change.
"I'm Detective Plant," Dean introduced, before taking a step back to introduce the others. "This is Detective Page," he pointed over to Persie, "And Detective Jones, we're with the county sheriff's department."
Persie rolled her eyes. Led Zeppelin, really? Years of listening to Paul jamming to the band while grading papers convinced her to be a fan. And, therefore, she learned the names of the guys in the band, making this all the more horrifying.
She's surprised these two idiots haven't been caught with their fake badges before this. And this poor guy was probably just the next on their long list of fools that fell for this idiocy, too.
She sighed. Men.
The patient nodded. "Yeah, I've been expecting you."
They looked at the injured man in shock. "You have?"
"Yeah, all morning," Kyle replied, before glancing at Persie. "You're the sketch artist, right?"
Her eyes widened, before looking over to Sam and Dean with a look that clearly said abort mission, abort mission! "Uh-"
Dean sent a smirk her way. "Absolutely."
Her answering glare could have made him shiver in fear, had he been looking. I am so gonna drown his ass-
"Yes... of course I am," she lied through her teeth. "Just let me grab my paper and pen-"
Sam handed her a notepad and seemed to be straining to not fall apart in laughter. She quickly mouthed, "I'll deal with you later," and turned to face Kyle with what Persie hoped was a sympathetic look on her face.
"That is exactly who my partner here is," Dean laughed, walking around his brother to clap her on the back. She let out a whoosh of air and stumbled forward from the force. "The things she can do with a pen."
Persie pulled out riptide and quickly capped the end before everyone could start to see riptide in sword form, but she doubted Kyle would see anything.
"But listen, before we get started on that I wanted to ask you, uh, how'd you get away?"
She could've facepalmed at Dean's lack of tact.
"I... I have no idea," Kyle spoke. "I was hiding, and he found me. He was coming right for me and then he just stopped... staring at me with this blank look. And after that, he just took off running."
"So, um," Persie started. She started to fiddle with the notepad and prepared to start a horrible sketch. "I'm going to need as much physical description as you can remember."
She smartly ignored Sam and Dean's amused looks when she focused on Kyle.
"Uh, yeah," he started. "Uh, he's about six feet tall... dark hair-"
"What about his eyes, what color eyes did he have?" Sam asked.
"Maybe blue?" Kyle said, sounding more like a question than a statement, "It was dark."
Well there goes the demon theory. "Did they seem, uh, animalish?" Dean asked, trying to figure for the next best guess.
"Excuse me?"
This person was starting to not seem psycho killer-ish at all. Definitely nothing like what someone would expect from a werewolf. Or to be honest, nothing much at all.
"What about his teeth? You notice anything strange about them?" Sam asked, furrowing his brow.
Kyle's confusion only grew. "No, they were just teeth."
Persie let out a sigh and continued with her sketch. "Just teeth, okay..."
Dean decided to add, "What about his fingernails?"
"Okay, look, he's-he's just a normal guy," Kyle insisted. "With normal eyes and teeth and fingernails."
Sam tried to calm him down, "Look, sir, it's okay-"
Kyle shook his head. "No," He said, cutting the younger Winchester brother off. "Those were my brothers... this guy, he... he killed my brothers. How would you feel?"
Sam's eyes faded slightly. "Can't imagine anything worse."
Persie looked over to Dean, who was eying his brother with something akin to regret, but also extreme sadness that she doubted would ever really go away.
"I know this isn't easy, but if you could remember any other details," Persie interjected, looking down at Kyle, letting the pain of her own loss seep into her expression. "Anything at all could help us find who did this."
His shoulders sagged. "There was one more thing," he said. "He had a tattoo on his arm of a cartoon character... uh, it's the guy who- he's always the one chasing the roadrunner-"
Persie and Dean's voices immediately sounded out, "Wile E. Coyote!"
They looked at each other with something akin to shock, and Persie quickly looked back down at her sketch and tried to hide behind the hair that fell down to hide the blush on her cheeks.
"Yeah, that's it."
"Kyle?"
They turned around to see a doctor walking over to the bed. "Dr. Garrison," Kyle acknowledged.
Dr. Garrison was a middle-aged man who wore a blue striped button-up shirt and khakis under his doctor's coat. Definitely did not seem threatening at all.
"How you holding up?"
Kyle shrugged. "Okay, considering..."
"You're uh, Kyle's doctor?" Dean interrupted, holding out his badge to the slightly shocked doc.
"Uh, yes, yes I am."
Persie chuckled under her breath as Dean ended up taking the doctor out of the room for questioning. That left her and Sam with Kyle, who was peering over at the notepad she was scribbling on.
"Come on," Sam told her, turning to follow Dean and the doctor.
Persie just placed her final touch on the sketch and smiled down at it proudly. "Alas, here is my masterpiece."
He peered over her shoulder and she heard him let out a quick intake of breath. "That's... well, that's..."
She turned around and looked at him with a raised brow. "Better than what you thought I'd be able to do?"
He shrugged. "Well, I mean, I didn't know you were a closet artist," he mumbled, keeping the hearing range short enough so Kyle couldn't overhear.
"Don't I get to see it?"
Persie turned to look at Kyle with a small grin, handing him the notepad. "Have at it."
"Wow, that's exactly what I saw! That's him!"
She smiled and held out her hand to take the pad back. "Thank you for your time, Kyle. Let us know if you need anything or have any questions."
He flushed, and she watched as his eyes flickered between her breasts and her eyes.
She should've worn something less low-cut, but it wasn't her fault she forgot to pack another collared shirt. But she didn't really bother being annoyed by the attention, after hearing about how he lost his brothers she didn't want to put another damper on his day.
He can always look, but touching is a no-no.
When she gathered her stuff to leave, she noticed Sam throw Kyle a look before placing a hand on her back and guiding her out. Gods, was the man staring at her butt too? Maybe it was the drugs, or maybe it's just a man-thing.
But Sam doesn't-
"Sam, do you like my butt?" Persie asked, looking up at her tall companion.
His ears went red. "Uh... I'm not exactly sure how I should answer that question."
"Answer what question?"
They both turned to see Dean walking over to them with his signature smirk plastered on his face.
"Nothing," She insisted.
"Yeah, it was nothing," Sam quickly backed.
Dean's eyebrows raised. "Nothing?"
Persie nodded, and she knew Sam was the weak one out of the duo so she elbowed him in the gut to get the man to comply. "Yes, Dean, it was nothing you need to worry about."
"Well, now I want to know," Dean pouted.
She shrugged. "Nah, you were busy leaving Sammy and me all alone-"
"I was investigating-"
"So you don't get to hear the super-secret information I was sharing with your brother-"
"Again, I was doing our job!"
The two bickered all the way out of the hospital, with Sam Winchester shaking his head knowingly behind them.