"The countdown begins to
destroy ourselves."
Hero by Skillet
"So, are you going to tell me what we're hunting?" Dean asked as I grabbed my pack from the backseat of the Impala.
"We're not hunting anything," I explained. "As far as I'm concerned, there is no we."
Dean groaned and rounded the car as I got ready to walk to town. I honestly didn't give a rat's ass what his father wanted. There was no way in hell I was going anywhere with Dean Winchester.
"You're not going to leave me alone, are you?" I asked him, coming to a dead stop and snapping around. He nearly walked right into me, and I pulled up my hands to keep him at a distance.
"Not a chance," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm your new best friend."
I laughed, holding my hips as I keeled over dramatically.
"What the hell is so funny?"
"Winchester's don't have friends. They have casualties." He glared at me. "Look, Dean, I've been doing this for as long as I can remember, and I know all about you and your Dad. Everybody does, and they all have the same rule - Stay the fuck away from the Winchesters."
"Then why were you working with my dad?"
I sighed and dropped my bag on the ground in frustration. "I was desperate, and I took my chances. I thought he could help me finally end this."
"I thought he was helping you?"
"No, your father wasn't helping me, Dean. He was using me. All he wants is revenge, regardless of the price."
"Isn't that what you want?" He snapped. "That's why you two teamed up in the first place?"
The words dropped from his tongue like venom. He might have been pretending to be the strong little soldier, but deep down, I could tell he was hurt. His father had ignored him for months, and now he thought it was because of me.
"Revenge isn't as sweet when you're dead, Dean" I looked him up and down as I pulled my pack over my shoulder. "I know I'm probably not gonna make it out of this fight alive, but I'm not dying because of some half-assed plan he came up with within a drunken stupor."
"Listen, sweetheart," Dean growled. He pulled his gun on me, pointing it directly at my head. "I'm done with this bullshit. I'm stuck with you. You're stuck with me. Just get in the car."
My full lips formed a smile, and he raised his brow at me as if he knew what was about to happen. He had balls, though. I had to give him that.
"Shooting a woman in the head and disobeying Daddy all in one day? Look at you breaking the rules!"
"I'm aiming at your teeth." He grimaced. "Hopefully, it will get you to shut the hell up."
"You're not going to shoot me," I laughed.
It was his turn for intimidation, and I smiled as a bullet whizzed past the cartilage of my ear, the distinct zing vibrating through my veins.
"You have terrible aim." I taunted.
"Next ones going in the voice box."
"If you were going to shoot me, you would have done it by now. Dean, face the facts. You're too much of a daddy's boy to break the rules."
"Accidents happen."
I walked towards him slowly, and he cocked the gun again as I stepped directly in front of the barrel. "I bet they always do around you."
I watched as his green eyes glossed over. He weighed his options carefully, and in the end, he knew I was right. Regardless of how he felt about his Dad leaving him in the dust, he wasn't going to disobey him, which meant I wasn't going to get rid of him either.
"If I get in this car, we do this my way, and if you ever point a gun at me again, I will put a bullet in your head while you sleep. Understand?"
He finally blinked, and I watched as he sucked in his bottom lip, probably contemplating all the possible ways he could kill me and make it look like an accident.
I left him standing there in his stupor as I started unloading my backpack on the hood of his car. Files. Papers. Maps. Everything I needed to find these people were laid out and when he finally pulled himself together, he made his way over and started digging through it.
I leaned back, watching him flip through the stack of missing persons' reports, his jaw tensing with every page turn. I could tell it bothered him by the way his hand covered his mouth as he turned the pages. To some, it might have been nothing, but in the world of those who knew better than to mourn the missing, it was a spark of light that was almost refreshing.
"So, all of these people went missing around the same time?"
I nodded. "Yeah. It's always the second week of April, year after year, and I just heard back from Salem PD this morning. They said that a few of them had used their credit cards at a garage here in Burkittsville." I handed him the statements from the other pile. "Dean, I was here a few days ago, and they all claimed they didn't know anything. I mean, I could understand not remembering one, but three?"
"Yeah, I get it." He sighed heavily. "So, what's the plan?"
"Well, I was planning on getting that piece of shit car to the garage, but obviously that didn't happen."
"So, what now?" He asked. "We have nothing more than a hunch to go on. It could be a monster, or it could just be some backwoods inbreds who've watched Wrong Turn one too many times."
"And a bullet between the eyes will stop both," I shrugged. "Well, usually."
"So you're just going to wing it and hope for the best?"
"That's pretty much how I work."
He gawked at me. "Something is abducting people, and you just want to wing it?"
"Do you have a plan you'd care to share?"
He sized me up with a smirk before piling everything together and shoving it in my chest. I slipped it all neatly into the bag, and my eyes widened as he pushed open the trunk of his car.
"That is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life," I muttered, shoving the backpack into his arms. I had seen a lot of arsenals over the years, but this - this was the treasure trove.
For some reason, my hand went directly to the box of shotgun shells that looked more they had been pulled apart and put back together. I shook it in my hand, and a grin spread across my lips.
"Is this-"
"Rocksalt? Yeah." He took it from my hand and inspected it with pride. "Made them myself."
Why I never thought of making my own salt rounds was beyond me, but now I knew why John wanted me to stay with his son. I was pretty sure he had enough ammunition and weapons to ward off a small supernatural army.
"Like what you see?" Dean laughed as he picked up a tin box. I nodded, smiling stupidly as he opened it and started to pick through his collection of cards.
He handed me a card as he locked the box back up, and I couldn't help but laugh at how serious he looked in the photo.
"Something funny?"
"FBI?" I laughed, waving the card at him. He swiped it out of my hand and bit it between his teeth as he started to move things around. "How does that even work for you people? "
"Do you have a suit in that bag?"
"Do I look like I own a suit?"
"Every hunter owns a suit."
"Well, Agent Angus-" I tried my hardest to contain my laughter. "Playing dress-up isn't exactly my thing."
"It's not dress-" I raised a brow, and he groaned before throwing the ID back in and slamming it closed. "It's not dress up."
I nodded for the sake of arguing. This honestly couldn't get any worse. Not only was I stuck with him, but I also had no way of figuring out who or what was abducting these people or if I was even looking to save someone or to just kill something.
My life was a never-ending cycle of scarring people, killing, and drinking until I fell asleep. Only to wake up and do it repeatedly while trying to track down the demonic son of a bitch that caused all of this.
"You married?"
"Excuse me?"
"The ring on your finger."
I glanced down at the thin gold band around my ring finger and quickly pulled my hand to my chest. My thumb rubbed over the cold metal as I shook my head. "No, it was my - it's just something I wear to keep the creeps away."
He nodded. "Good."
"What? Why does it matter?" I asked him.
"Because Mrs. Bonham, we're bait."