27 | Remember the Titans [ Haywire ]
CLARISSA SNUCK A GLANCE AT DEAN, who looked seemed to be buried in his own deep thoughts. Clarissa won't admit it, but she will sneak a glance at Dean whenever she could. She hated herself for that, but there was attraction that pulled her towards him. Her eyes trailed down to his full lips.
They sure look kissable.
Clarissa cringed, mentally slapping herself at the thought. Just how cringy can I get? Clarissa, get yourself together, for God's sake! What is wrong with me! We're just fellow hunters. Nothing should get in between us.
But that can't stop me from ogling at his fine face. I'm such a rebel.
Dean must've sensed someone staring at him, because he looked over from his shoulder, raising a brow, "What are you doing?"
"Oh, nothing~ Just reminding myself how much of a doofus you are." Smirking, she placed a hand on her hips, "a stupid one, in fact."
His eyes turned amused, although the corners of his mouth twitched a bit, he fought the smile that made its way to his lips. He faked a hurt look and placed a hand on his chest, giving her his signature puppy look, something she couldn't resist, "I'm a stupid doofus?"
"Correct, Winchester."
"If I'm a stupid doofus, I'm your stupid doofus." Dean smirked, and a mischievous glint shimmered in his eyes as he stared her down, a shiver to ran down her spine.
"What are you—"
He diminished the distance between them and cupped her cheeks. Dean looked the dominant one, considering his towering height and broad built. He placed his fingers on her chin, his eyes trailing down to her full, luscious lips. Clarissa thought he was going to kiss her, but she then realized the Winchester was keeping still, waiting for her to do the first move.
That bastard!
When neither of them made a move, he then held her shoulder, which did not help the goosebumps. To make it worse, she was wearing a white tank top. She could feel his calloused, but strong hands on her smooth skin. He roughly pressed her back against the wall. Locking all possible exits, he rested his hands on the wall, each by the side of her head. He leaned forward, and their hot breaths mingled together.
Her laugh was strained, "D-Dean— getting rough, are we?"
She breathed heavily, her chest rising up and down.
Her eyes locked with Dean's.
Her body was going haywire.
All what was on her mind was—
OH MY HOLY GOD. OH MY HOLY GOD. SOMEONE HOLD ME BEFORE MY LEGS GIVE IN.
"you shouldn't crease your pretty face like that, Peanut. You'll get wrinkles very soon." he teases, tone deep and husky.
Her eyes widen. At this rate, she felt like her pounding heart was ready to bust out of her rib cage. Must control myself. Must control myself.
"You think I'm pretty?"
He nears her ear, and his hot breath fanned her neck, "pretty is an understatement. Hot is a better term."
"Heh. I won't argue with that, but..."
Dean's head snapped to the side when he heard the swishing of water. Clarissa felt a wave of disappointment when he pulled away, walking towards the source of the sound when he looked back to see Clarissa still backed up on the wall with a visible blush on her cheeks, looking at him incredulously. With a wave of his hand, Dean gestured for her to follow him.
Stumbling in her steps, she casted her gaze on the floor, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She held her chin up in the air when she realised how stupid she must've looked.
It was hard for her to ignore the wants her body screamed. The satisfaction of having his fingers touch her skin, his lips near hers...holy damn.
Entering the library, Sam was leaning over the sink, swiftly washing a cup—gargling hastily as if he didn't want to be seen.
"What's up with you?" Dean asked.
Sam jerked up in surprise, clearly not expecting the two to enter. Shutting the faucet close, he faced the two who looked at him intensely. He brought a hand to his chin, and wiped off the dripping water. "Nothing. Why?"
Dean had a knowing look, but decided not to comment. He knew very well that the first trial was getting to him— constant nosebleeds, and sleepless nights. Setting down his coffee mug on the table, he tugged his robe closer to his body, "Heard anything from Kevin?"
"No, nothing yet."
"It's been like what— three weeks? What's taking that little brainiac long?" Dean retorted, "It's a book, read it."
Sam put both hands on his hips and said, "just a guess, but translating an ancient language with zero help might be more difficult than we think."
Sam glanced at Clarissa, who was downing a shot of whiskey. She let out a satisfied smack when the hot and bitter liquid slid down her throat. Licking her lips, she proceeded to pour herself another shot.
"Wha—Rissa! Stop!" Sam rushed over to her direction, yanking the whiskey bottle away from her grip, and she whined. "Rissa, it's noon! Why are you drinking again?"
Clarissa slumped in her seat, whining. "But Sammy~"
"Let the woman have her daily dose of whiskey, Sammy. You wouldn't wanna anger the tiger.".
She glowered at the snickering Dean, who was enjoying watching her reactions throughout the day a bit too much.
His face falling to a serious one, he clears his throat, "So, no word from Cas, Kevin's taking his sweet little time, and you're acting cagey. We need a lead before I start climbing these walls."
"In that case, I can give you zombies." Sam hands Dean a bundle of newspaper.
As if on cue, Clarissa and Dean simultaneously gave Sam a skeptical look.
"Guy gets hit by car, left for dead overnight, guts spilled out all over the road, then gets up and walks away."
"Nothing about brain-munching?" Clarissa asks.
"Remember Bobby's wife? She didn't...munch on any brains."
"Who's Bobby?" Clarissa piped up.
"A great guy." Dean states, looking over to Clarissa who didn't look satisfied with the answer. He sighs, "a family friend."
"Oh." evidently, he didn't want to elaborate further. Touchy topic, maybe. She sat beside Sam. It either a seat beside Sam or Dean and the answer was obvious. "So who's the witness?"
"Montana-state-trooper, 20-year vet. Checked his pulse, saw his intestines spilled out all over the place—pronounced him dead with a capital 'D'."
x x x
In style, the impala purred as Dean pulled up outside Great Falls Montana
Sheriff. The trio stepped out of the car with their freshly-ironed suits, their fake badges hung on their breast pocket.
Clarissa wanted so much to forget about the previous event. Her mind seemed to unwillingly repeat the moment their lips were an inch away from connecting with each other. To top it all of, she call her hot.
Goddamit!
While she was wallowing herself in her thoughts, Dean eyed her up and down, taking in her appearance. Normally, when they had to visit a sheriff department, Clarissa would throw in a very much wrinkled suit that was probably worn from the last case, and let her long, black hair loose. But today, she cleaned up nicely for some reason. Her bangs was slicked back and twisted to an elegant twirl. It would be lying to say that Dean didn't like how the perfectly pressed suit hugged her body perfectly. She had curves in the right places.
"Since when did the feds start tracking down zombie activity?"
"We don't track zombie activity because there's no thing such as zombies." Dean stated a-matter-of-factly.
Clarissa hops up to the desk across the sherrif's. "Why don't you just tell us what you saw, old man?"
The sherif shot Clarissa a glare before continuing, "Article said it all—dead as dog poop, guts picked out, face frozen. People don't walk away from that. Zombies do."
Clarissa scoffed, shaking her head. If only she could whack him in the face and tell him how they'd encountered demons, angels, wendigos, and such. To say that zombies exist gave her a good laugh. "Have you ever thought something might've dragged him away?"
"One set of footprints. No drag marks."
"You didn't go after him?" Sam inquired.
"That's grizzly country. You couldn't pay me enough to hike those woods." He replies promptly, before adding, "not without a bazooka."
"Uh, Jack?" A girly voice calls from behind, "I got something here."
Jack gets up from his seat suddenly, causing the wheelchair to squeak from his weight. Clarissa chuckled under her breath, muttering, "finally he stands up. The poor chair would've been crushed under his fat ass."
Dean laughed, the lines around his eyes becoming visible with the bright smile he wore. Clarissa found that attractive.
"Came accords the wire from Livingston." The woman gestures to the computer.
"John-Doe. Presumably mauled by a bear." Jack reads off the computer. He narrows his eyes at a picture of a pale, wounded man, and gasps, "holy crap, that's him."
"That's the dead guy?" Dean asks.
"Dead my ass." Jack retorts. "That's a zombie, gentlemen. And lady."
He rushed to his desk, grabbing his gun and hat.
"Trooper? Why don't you stay here? We'll take it from here. We need someone to hold down the fort." Sam reassures.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, and if things go 'Dawn of the Dead' on us, you'll be our first call." A smirk tugged on Dean's lip as he said that, and Clarissa held out a hand, in which Dean hi-fived. Sam sighs at their childishness. Sometimes, he felt like a baby sitter. He gave Jack a small smile and ushered a chortling Clarissa and Dean out of the office.
x x x
The trio stood by the lifeless body. A cloth was wrapped on its' upper body and Clarissa looked away, disgusted by the sight of the frozen open wounds.
"No I.D. on this guy?" Sam asked the caretaker.
"Nope. Fingerprints came up blank too."
Dean reached over the body's mouth, opening its mouth and checked the gums area for some fangs. It was a vampire check. He shook his head 'no' at Sam and Clarissa.
Dean lifted the cloth from his stomach area higher, "what's going down here?"
"Liver was eaten. Best guess is a bird that got it." He answered.
"Well, a bird has got to have its breakfast." Clarissa says, which earned a look from the caretaker.
As the trio got out of the morgue section of the department, they stride down the hallway. "I got to say, I'm a little disappointed." Dean says.
"Yeah, cause you wanted to shoot zombies." Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, stopping just outside the window of the morgue section.
"Damn straight I wanted to shoot some zombies. Look, man, this is about as open-and-shut- as it gets, all right? Guy gets Mack-trucked, goes down for a nap, and wakes up. Wakes up and takes a detour into mama bear's den— end of story."
"Then why would he run?" Clarissa asked rhetorically, glancing at the dead body through the blinds of the window, tapping a finger on her chin. She'd always liked every start of a hunt— wherein they had to think deep and brainstorm. "He was injured— that trooper could've helped him."
"I don't know, shady past?" Dena shrugged his shoulders.
"Dean, don't guys with a shady past usually have a fingerprint on them? Whatever it was, the guy's dead now, okay?"
"Remember what Bobby said, hmm? 'Wood chipper beats everything'? Yeah, we'll so does grizzly bear." Dean fired back.
In synch, the three cast their gazes on the dead body presumedly lifeless laying down on examine tables, when they saw that it had disappeared.
They bolted into the morgue.
x x x
Dean grabbed the supposedly dead man by the cloth he wrapped himself in and shoved him inside the morgue room, "all right, let's get straight to the point. What are you?"
He pushed his head down the examining table with gunpoint behind him. "START TALKING!!"
"If you say zombie, I swear," Clarissa threatened, her arms folded.
"I'm not anything, I swear!" He cried out.
Sam ran to the window, shutting the blinds close hurriedly.If anyone saw what the situation was now, they'd have a lot of explaining to do. I mean, the guy was dead a couple hours ago. Now, he's up and about. That'd be the fright of your life.
"Two minutes ago you were room temperature. You're something!"
"Look, I don't know what I am, okay? I don't know who I am. All I know is all I do is die! So if you wanna shoot me, shoot me. Just promise me you finish the job, cause I can't take this anymore."
They all had their eyebrows furrowed, exchanging doubtful looks. A few moments of contemplating passed and Dean yanked him away from the table, "all right, get up, get up, stand up!"
"All you do is die? Have you lost your sanity, dude? What on hell's supposed to mean?" Clarissa asked.
"Once a day is what I can remember. After a few hours, I'm back. My name is Shane." He says, fiddling with the measly cloth that covered his body.
"Listen, Shane. We're not gonna find out what the hell you are in here, so you're gonna come with us. We're gonna run a few tests, make sure everything's kosher."
"Tests?"
x x x
Shane groaned as the knife cut across his skin. The blood drew out quickly and dropped down his arm. "Seriously? Is this FBI-sanctioned?"
Dean whipped up a messily handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Shane, who was moaning from the pain.
"Oh, geez. Quit being a pussy and grit your teeth through it." Clarissa snapped, rolling her eyes as she strode to the coffee table to take another swig of beer.
"Woah, woah, woah. What's with the grouchy grandma all of a sudden?" Dean chuckles, patting her shoulder in a coaxing manner in which she responds with a huff.
They managed to keep him under cover as they got Shane out of the morgue room, and brought him to a motel room. It wasn't easy, considering a man supposedly dead— marked as mauled by the wild, is now up and kicking, waking alongside with three 'agents' is a risk.
Sam passed Shane a flask, "drink."
Shane sniffed it first, checking to see if the liquid was drugged or not. He drank it gratefully after deciding it wasn't.
"So, how long has this dying thing going on with you?"
"As long as I can remember, but my memory only goes back a few years."
"Wait, so now you have amnesia?" Clarissa asked. "How do you know your name?"
"My real name isn't Shane. It was given to me, because... well, people had to call me something."
"Okay, so what happened to you?" Sam pressed.
"Got pushed off a mountain in Europe. They said I got caught it an avalanche. I don't remember anything from before the rescue. When I realised my condition, I knew I couldn't be around people, so I built a little cabin, learnt to hunt, and kept to myself. Seemed easiest that way. Then a couple pot growers grew nervous with me being so near with their crop. Shot me— twice. I figured it was time to move on."
"Right into the grille of that pickup." Dean exchanges glances with Clarissa and Sam.
Shane's eyes wondered around before asking, "you think I could go get cleaned up?"
"Knock yourself out."
Shane gathered the extra clothes Sam lent him, any made his way to the bathroom. When he was finally out of earshot, Dean whispered, "he's definitely something."
"Yeah, but maybe he isn't the monster. He's the victim." Clarissa suggests.
"You thinking curse?"
"Could be looking for a witch, yeah." Sam nods his head in thought. "You know what, he's parked here. He's safe. Maybe we should just get another room until we can figure this out."
"All right, but you two are the ones the one going full-cavity for the hex bag." Dean says. Clarissa rolled her eyes, knowing had Dean didn't really liked doing the boring stuff— he wanted to be more on action.
x x x
"Rock, paper, scissors!"
Clarissa whooped and yelled out in victory, snatching the last Oreo from the pack.
"Oh, come on!!" Dean banged his fist on the table, "I was distracted! One more, c'mon, put that Oreo out of your filthy hands. One more round."
Clarissa smirked, "no can do, Winchester. Rules are rules."
As she was about to pop in the snack in her mouth, a sudden, muffled crash was heard from the room beside theirs, which was Shane's. The three tensed up and ran out of the motel room. Dean was lockpicking with the knob in a rush, and clicked his tongue when the his nerves got the best of him.
Clarissa pushed Dean away, "step aside, peasant. Let the Queen through."
How she managed to keep her sass game at times like this baffled Dean.
She kicked down the wooden door with ease and they all pooled in the dark, unlit room to see a woman hurling at Shane.
Shane dodged, and then kicked her in the abdomen and she stumbled in her steps, grunting. Dean went straight to the woman with a knife in hand, but she glided her legs across the floor, tripping Dean. She was about to dig her dagger heels into Dean's stomach when Clarissa yelled, "hey, bitch!"
The woman turned around and Clarissa quickly sent a punch across her face, the bruise was bound to turn purple a minute or so later. Sam ambushed her, savouring the chance while she was caught off guard. But she held up a hand and flicked it to the side, sending Clarissa and Sam flying out of the door. They both landed on their backs, rolling to the side from the impact on the wet, muddy pavement.
Shane got up to his feet, booted her stomach, which made her crash to the wall. Panting, she eyed the knife that left Dean's grip on the floor. She threw herself to it, but Shane kicked her arm away simply like it was a pest and she yelped. She recovered quickly and secured an arm around his throat, pressing with great force. Under her dominance, she swiped the knife across his bare shoulder. Shane reaction to this by ripping her other hand away from his throat and turned around. He took a fistful of her hair and kneed her stomach. She fell to the floor with an 'oof', but he wasn't quite done with her yet. The trio, who were now on their feet, could only watch the scene unfold before their eyes as he threw her against the wall. Shane pressed an arm across her chest with much force and held the knife on her cheek. "Who are you?"
"Now? I am your worst nightmare." She whispered. She touched the knife with her free hand and she dispersed to dust.
"Who the hell was that?"
Shane tore his eyes away from where she disappeared and breathed out, "she—she said she knew me."
"Yeah, How?" Sam snapped.
"I don't know, uh," he walked over to the table and rested his hands there, panting, "uh, I could've sworn she was upset I didn't know her back."
"This is a lot more than curse, man. You've got tiger blood." Stated Dean. "Where did you learn that Kung fu? You kicked ass."
He fell to his knees, holding on to his wounded shoulder. As if his breathing system suddenly stopped, his lungs pleaded for air.
"Hey, buddy, you okay?"
"Yeah, I just need a minute. I've never been in a fight my whole life."
Clarissa lets out a laugh, "so what, that kung fu was—"
Shane suddenly sucked in some air, choking.
"Woah, are you—"
Shane placed a hand on his chest as he threw his head back. He couldn't breathe, as if someone was holding him up by the neck. He fell to the floor, choking.
"Is he having a heart attack?" Dean asked.
"I don't know, do we call 911?"
"And tell them what? That the dead guy we stole from the morgue is alive and having a coronary?" Clarissa snapped, "Moose, use your damn coconut!"
x x x
"I feel like I'm shitting Shiva." Dean says, leaning forward as he rests his elbows on his knees.
Clarissa, who was sitting beside him on the motel bed, groaned, "stop it with the remarks, Dean. I'm having a headache."
Dean smirked, "time of the month?"
Clarissa pinched him, making him to yelp "agh! That hurt, woman!"
"Guys, guys, guys—" Sam began, "we need to think. What do we know of that has Jason Bourne fighting skills, dies a lot, and has a history with violent women?"
Dean shrugs, "I don't know, you."
Sam frowned, giving his brother a look while Clarissa fell down to the bed, laughing, draping an arm over Dean's shoulder, "nice one."
Dean's lips quirked up a small smile when a knock rapped on the door. Clarissa got up, and peeked behind the curtains. There stands a woman in her early 40's, maybe, with a blue coat and slightly curled brown hair. A young, blonde boy with very fare skin stood beside her. She narrowed her eyes, and loaded her gun. She pointed the gun behind the door as she creaked it half-open. "May I help you?"
"Agent Lisbon?" Her voice sounded weary and weak.
"And you are?"
"This is gonna sound really strange, but I'm looking for a corpse that went missing today. The coroner said that you were the last one to see it." She unfolded a wrinkled newspaper from her coat pocket, and showed it to Clarissa. "I'm Hailey."
"Oh, right. Uh, this is Agent Jones and Agent Tyler." Clarissa gestured her head to the two Winchesters who were now standing behind her.
"Why are you looking for our John Doe?" Sam asked.
"Well, his name is Shane. At least that's what I call him." She shrugged, and fixed her gaze on the young boy beside her, "I'm the mother of his son."
Clarissa smiled, she was fond of children, "hi, buddy."
Dean kneeled down to level with the boy's eyes, "hey, what's up, bro? You can call me Superman."
Clarissa scrunched up her nose, "no. Superman sucks."
Dean gave her an icy glare, "fine, Batman."
The boy hid behind Hailey, avoiding eye contact. "This is Oliver, he's a bit shy. It's okay, Oliver."
She froze when she saw Shane's body lying down on one of the motel beds.
"Oops. you weren't supposed to see tha—"
She walked in without thought, "stay with the nice FBI agents, Oliver."
They looked over to Hailey who sat beside Shane, who looked worriedly at him. Clarissa sighed, how were they supposed to explain this, now?
x x x