There wasn't much that changed after that night. But things did get better. John started drinking less, though that didn't mean he wasn't still nose-deep in his journal most nights. He had started going out on his own more and more too, leaving Dean and I to our own devices. Not that either of us minded, it gave us more of a chance to hunt what we wanted, especially when most of John's hunts started sounding more like witch hunts. And not for actual witches either.
The last year hadn't changed a lot else. Sam still sent the occasional text about his grades or new friends. Dean still tried his hardest to gain John's attention. I want to say it had been a better year, except for the new lack of sleep I was finding. The barking was getting louder. Some nights it sounded like they were next door, but it wasn't my time yet. I still had fifteen months before they came for me. I could do without the barking though.
"Hey, Dean." I called into the third motel room we'd been in this week from the tiny table next to the window, "Come take a look at this."
Dean poked his head around the divider that separated the beds from where a tiny kitchen sat and stared at me. "Hang on, I'm almost done with this."
Calling it a kitchen was a stretch though. There was an old stained countertop with a built-in yellowed sink. A mini fridge was built into the cabinets below it. And an old, grease-stained microwave built into a small shelf above the sink. We'd made do with it, as usual, and Dean was doing his best to make a decent breakfast.
I looked back at the article I'd pulled up and read over it again as Dean came around the divider and sat on the edge of the bed next to me. He extended a paper plate with an Eggo waffle on it to me.
"They've found at least five guys dead on the edge of this cemetery in the last month," I said as I took the plate.
"Ooo. Our kinda things?" Dean asked, scooting a little closer to see the screen of our old beat-up laptop better.
"I think so. I'm not sure. There's not a ton to go on from these reports." I shrugged. "The weirdest thing is how they all were found."
Dean read the article for the newest body they'd found. "I'm guessing they all died naked in the woods?"
"Yup. Every single one of them." I nodded.
Dean sat back a little. "That's not super weird. It could just be some scorned old lady targeting old men 'cause she's bored."
"They're not 'old men', Dean." I scrolled a little more until I found the caption below the picture of a body that looked to be sixty years old. "He was twenty-five."
Dean let out a low whistle. "Yup. That's our kind of weird."
"You wanna check it out?" I asked eagerly.
"Alex…I don't know if we should…" Dean scratched at the back of his neck.
"Oh come on!" I threw my hands into the air. "John's gonna be gone for at least another three days. He'll never know we're gone. And I'm tired of Washington grey skies."
"But he…"
"I know what he said, Dean. I was there too." I huffed. "But are you gonna sit here and let this thing kill more people while we wait for him to get back?"
He looked like he was arguing with himself. Weighing the pros and cons of disobeying John as he thought of what I had said.
"It's only an hour's drive." I smiled softly when he bit the inside of his cheek. A telltale sign that I had him. "We'll be back before he knows we're gone."
Dean let out a long sigh. "Fine. But we're finishing breakfast first. I'm not driving to Portland, Oregon on an empty stomach."
The area was more than beautiful. The area of 'Skyline Memorial Gardens and Funeral Home' sat on top of a ridge that overlooked the Northwest side of Portland. And we had arrived just in time to watch as the sun started to rise over the trees, turning the leaves shades of jade and golden green. It was hard to remain professional and serious when all I wanted to do was disappear into them.
Dean elbowed my side, snapping my attention away from the faux green gems. "You said they just found another one right?"
I looked around the welcoming center parking lot until I found a city cruiser. "Ya. Police radar called it in like ten minutes ago."
"Right. Then let's get this over with." Dean straightened his shoulders and started towards the building as a police officer came out the front door. "Good morning."
The officer, an older gentleman with dark red hair and grass-green eyes, looked Dean and I up and down before sighing. "Get lost kid. There's nothing here for your school paper."
"Actually." Dean started, starting to pull his fake badge from his back pocket. "We're rookies looking into the case."
The officer, Reynolds now that I could see his name badge, squinted at the cheap piece of plastic. "Uh-huh. You got a proper ID?"
"If you need to see it sure." Dean flipped the badge over to show an honestly well-made fake CIA ID badge. I worked to pull mine out as well as he continued to lie. "Myself and Agent Fisher happened to be on our way back from a call in Rose Valley, Washington when we heard the newest call here. Figured we'd come give you a hand."
"Right. And you're what? Undercover in a beat-up Ford two-door, wearing flannels and jeans?" Some were harder to fool than others. And to be fair to him, the car we'd stolen from the back of the motel parking lot was in rough shape. But we had plans for situations like this.
"Sir, I respect your skepticism. I know we do look quite young and out of place," I tried to use my sweetest voice as I brought his attention to me. "But I can assure you that we are the real deal. You can call our commanding officer if it would make you feel better."
Reynolds narrowed his eyes at me and pursed his lips. "I think I'll take you up on that. What's his number?"
Dean shot me a side-long glance as I pulled a slip of paper out of my back pocket. "Don't worry. Chief Snyderson gets these kinds of calls for us a lot."
"Right," Reynolds said as he took the paper from me and took a few steps away to make the call.
"You gave him Bobby's number?" Dean hissed at me.
"Would you rather have him call John?" I shot back. "It's to one of the burners Bobby keeps labeled for this kind of shit. And you know he won't tell John as long as we tell him what's going on later."
Dean huffed, looking as if he wanted to argue more but decided against it as Reynolds made his way back to us.
"I swear they let younger and younger recruits in every year," Reynolds mumbled, shaking his head. "You check out."
"Great." I said, "Can we see the scene now?"
It wasn't a far drive into the cemetery itself to where the body had been found. It still lay there on the grass just inside the tree line, several other police officers still at the scene. It was a small area of three gravestones that had been marked off by yellow tape. The one in the center seemed to have been freshly dug, maybe as new as yesterday morning. Whereas the other two had had time to grow moss on the stones.
The man's body lay naked behind the newest grave, nestled into a cluster of bright green blooms tipped in small purple buds. He was on his stomach, frozen in time as he reached towards the grave, face stilled in a cold scream no one heard. His skin was the grey-white of death and wrinkled as if he was eighty years old. His eyes were nothing more than smoke-colored orbs, wide with fright. And his hair was a shock of white blowing in the soft breeze as if snaked across the ground, cooling our feet.
"Gerald Thompson." Reynolds filled up in. "His license says he was thirty years old. We're running a skin sample through to see if it matches another sample we got from his home." He gestured to the grave. "He was visiting his mother. She died early Monday morning from a struggle with cancer."
I tried not to shiver as low howls came to my ears with the final word. "Any sign of a struggle? Other than the obvious."
Reynolds nodded towards the body and Dean took that as the ok to squat down next to it and examine closer. "There's what we think are nail scratches along his legs. From thigh to ankle. But the weirdest is the…"
"Is that a hickey?" Dean interrupted as he carefully touched a large bruise on the corpse's neck.
"Honestly, we're not sure. If you…here…" Reynolds pulled a flashlight from off his duty belt and turned it on. "If you look closer to the center of it, you can see a hole. It's like a pinprick but there was just enough blood left in the guy for it to scab over."
"What do you mean 'just enough blood'?" I asked as Dean took the flashlight.
"He had maybe a tablespoon left in him." Reynolds nodded.
I shot a look at Dean, his green eyes already looking up towards me. He gave a quick nod, confirming we both agreed this was our kind of thing.
I turned back to Reynolds. "Was there anything else?"
He shook his head. "Not that felt important. This matches the last five bodies."
"Right." Dean huffed out a groan as he stood. "I think we've seen everything we need to then."
"Do you have any theories?" Reynolds asked him.
"At the moment, no." Dean shook his head. "But we're going to be in town the next few days anyway so we'll look into it."
"We'll keep in touch then." Reynolds nodded, dismissing us as another officer walked up to him.
I waited for Dean to join me again before starting back towards the gravel road. When we were far enough away I was sure we wouldn't be overheard I turned to him.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"Whatever it is, it's not a vampire," Dean stated as we continued to walk.
"Well ya. They don't de-age their victims." I said.
Dean rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face as he slipped into the beat-up truck. "Just get in and I'll show you what I picked up."
My eyebrows furrowed as I got into the passenger seat. I hadn't seen him grab anything. "Something relevant?"
Dean dug into his pocket before pulling out what looked to be a smooth grey rock until I picked it up. "I would consider a large snake scale to be relevant to a monster hunt."
"God this is fucking boring." Dean sighed heavily as he leaned back in his chair.
I rolled my eyes. "We've only been researching for two hours now Dean."
"That's two hours too long!" Dean said, throwing his hand into the air.
I laughed a little bit. "Do you even have any idea what this thing could be?"
"Nope. Too hungry." He stood from his chair and walked the few feet needed to sit on the edge of one of the motel beds.
"Order a pizza or something then." I looked back at the laptop screen, ignoring his next dramatic sigh. "I think it could be a lamia."
"A what?" He asked, now sprawled out on top of the covers.
"A lamia. It's kinda like a mix between a vamp and a siren. Except less sex and more stealing blood to keep themselves young." I explained.
"Ah. That would explain the blood-draining and withered bodies." Dean agreed. "What about the scale? And why would the bodies be naked?"
"They still lure men with the idea of sex. But it doesn't usually get that far." I said, reading more of the lore. "And they're usually depicted as half human, half snake."
"So a sexy snake woman, who's luring grieving men to their deaths in the woods." Dean nodded to himself. "Sounds hot."
"You need to cut back on the fantasy porn." I chuckled.
"I told you to stay away from my laptop!"
It never felt like it took long for the sky to turn indigo and the clouds to become tipped in bronze light when we were on hunts together. Often it didn't feel like time passed at all when I was by his side, almost like he was protecting me from even that. But with the passing time, came the color change and the sun making way for the moon to chase her, and I knew another day had passed into night when we finally came to the new grave again.
The body had been removed now. Leaving nothing behind but the small purple flowers that left an outline of where he had once lay. They swayed in the light breeze that flowed through the grass at our feet. Something close to the scent of mint mixed with lavender or thyme drifted around us, filling our noses as we tromped past the edge of the woods.
"You're sure this is a llama?" Dean asked, adjusting the bag on his shoulders.
I laughed softly. "A lamia, Dean."
"Right. Whatever." He bent down to look around the ground. "How do we kill it again?"
"Hopefully we can knock her on her ass and douse her in rosemary and salt. Then we burn her." I pulled a flashlight from my bag and shown it at the ground. "What are you looking for?"
"Anything that will give us a direction to go in." He brushed his hand along the ground, tracing what I would have thought was an old game trail. "Since I doubt either of us is her type."
I shrugged. "Not my fault they've liked me better recently."
Dean sighed and stood. "You got one number recently and you let it go to your head."
"Only because you thought she was into you at first," I smirked at him.
He rolled his eyes. "Anyway." He pointed down at the ground. When I angled the flashlight down and stared at the dirt, I began to make out small, purple flowers along the edge of the trail. "Looks like I found our starting point."
We hadn't gone far. Maybe not even a quarter mile into the woods, a five-minute walk from where the grave was when we found it.
An abandoned house overgrown with vines and moss. More recovered by nature than man-made anymore. Several trees grew right up against the peeling grey siding. One tree seemed to grow straight through the center of both stories and out of the decaying roof. The broken windows were boarded up with yellowing plywood that curved away from them at the sides, covered with moisture and mold. It seemed like the entire structure was alive as it creaked and moaned as the wind traced through its tattered walls. It was easy to follow the trail of small purple buds right to the termite-eaten white door, their sweet smell growing stronger with each of our steps.
I looked at Dean as we approached the structure. We hadn't talked much since starting down the trail. It was a habit now to remain as quiet as possible while on a hunt for something we knew so little about. Something that could so easily take the life from one of us. But that wouldn't happen. Not when we had each other to protect.
Dean's green eyes glowed softly in the dappled moonlight as he looked towards the house. We had turned off the light when I'd pointed out the first sign of the dwelling, now only guided by our instincts and the stars. His eyes shifted to me as if to silently ask if I could see anything.
I took several steps forward, resisting the urge to accept the pounding in my chest and turn tail. I took a deep breath and focused on any opening I could use to see into the home. There wasn't much to find in the shadows of the windows or door left just on its hinges. So I turned back to him and shook my head once.
Dean nodded, lowered into a crouch, and stalked toward the ruins. I did the same, carefully following in his footsteps. The brush and trees around us didn't dare make a sound as we crept closer. Nothing more than the whisper of the grass against our soles could be heard. It was as if the world held its breath just for us.
Dean had already reached his hand for the oxidized bronze knob when I heard the first thing. As quickly as I could, I grabbed his hand without making too much of a noise. His questioning forest eyes found mine in the darkness as I put a finger to my lips.
A beautiful humming folded its way around the edges of the door and into our ears. It was beautiful. It was as if the perfect minstrel had been here the entire time. Practicing and perfecting their craft until they could make a tune that sounded like nothing else in our world. And, before I could stop him again, Dean was standing to open the door.
"Dean…" I tried to say, even as the music and deep scent of the flowers began to mix in my head. Creating a fog like nothing I had ever felt before.
My body started to move of its own accord, even as I fought against the pull of the music. I could feel the things affecting me, and see it happening to Dean differently. He was walking across the rotted wooden floor as if the only thing he'd ever wanted was on the other side of the strangely lit room.
He strode towards her. The beautiful woman sat at the table near the only perfectly preserved window. The table was pristine, a beautiful red cloth draped over the top of it, piled high with delicious-looking treats. And the woman who sat at it. Her devastating beauty shown through her caramelized brown hair. Her eyes were painstakingly grey as if god himself had formed a storm cloud and chosen her to wield it. Her frame seemed to be light, or as if it had been sculpted from a smooth pane of opal. It was as if the decay and rot of the outside world had not dared to touch her. Her rose-painted lips sang the hauntingly beautiful tune without a single pause.
That was his downfall. Her beautiful song kept him trapped as she stretched her hands out to him, even as I started to fight against her tether. Even as I started to pull from her weave and return to myself, Dean took another step forward. And another as my feet stopped against the rotten floor. My arms felt like they had been asleep for weeks as I reached for the blade I kept stored against my side, even as I raced to grab it against Dean's falling steps.
"Dean." I tried to call for him once as my fingers felt heavy against the handle.
But he didn't respond. He was transfixed by her. Sound, appearance, and the scent of the flowers all consuming. He was a few steps from her embrace now. A few steps from what I knew would most likely be his death. I felt the blade again as my mind protested the fight against her sweet sound, and raised it to throw.
The pristine and hauntingly beautiful scene around the monster shattered as she screamed, my knife now embedded in her shoulder. We were released from her spell as if we had been dropped back into our bodies. Jolting and inching away from the creature before us.
And there it was now, skin silver in the moonlight as it drifted through the cracks. The real monster revealed as its red blood dripped down its pale skin and onto gleaming grey scales. Its tail wrapped around the now rotting legs of the table before her and broke it. Putrid food scrapes fell to the floor and rolled into dark crevices out of sight. Her hair was ragged, the skin on her upper half pockmarked with more grey scales and snake-like yellow eyes. The monster opened her mouth to hiss at us, a red forked tongue unfurling behind her fangs.
"Dean!" I tried again, finding him in the now-dark interior.
"Fuck. Here." He groaned, shaking his head clear of the trance.
I nodded and returned my focus to the monster. Her body swayed back and forth as her free hand tore my knife from her shoulder. She screamed again, deep saffron eyes pained and angry. I slung my pack to the floor, never taking my eyes off her as I pulled the machete from it.
There was barely a free second between when I had the handle firm in my grip, and when her tail was striking at my legs. I tumbled sideways to the ground, almost losing the blade again as my shoulder smacked against the floorboards.
"Alex!" I heard Dean yell across the room before he grunted and fell as well.
I scrambled to my feet in the dark, trying to find the monster again as she slid through the darkness. It wasn't until she had me wrapped in her long tail that I saw her again. Not until she was holding me tightly against her chest. Her mouth inches from my neck. Tongue flicking feather light against my pulse. Ready to take years off my life.
I felt my heart hammering against my chest then. Fighting against the anxiety that sat heavily against it was no longer an option. And even though I knew I theoretically had several months left of my life, it didn't stop the way I could think of nothing other than my death.
There was nothing more I could do at this moment than accept it. Take the pinprick against my neck. Sigh into her touch. Feel my life begin to drain from me. Accept my fate as nothing more than a monster's next meal.
It was blissful.
In the next moment, her tongue was no longer at my throat drinking in my blood. Not as her head rolled across the ground and her body relaxed, releasing me from her hold. I was unsteady on my feet as Dean reached towards me, keeping me upright with his free hand.
"You alright?" He asked, moss green eyes trailing my exposed skin for harm.
I nodded. "We need to burn her."
Dean gave a sharp nod in response. "I'll get the body together. You get the rosemary, salt, and lighter fluid."
I nodded dumbly again, setting to the task he had given me as he pulled her body into the center of the room. I gathered the supplies as Dean found her head, still hissing, against the wall. I stepped back towards the body as he carefully held it by its long, matted, knots.
"Start burning it and I'll throw this on after." He commented. "Can't have it reattaching in the middle."
"Right." I agreed.
I took the small vial of rosemary and stared to sprinkle it across the monstrous form before us. Her skin began to hiss and smoke as the herb touched her. The head started to scream again when the salt came next. It was nothing we hadn't heard a monster make before. The screams and pleas of something about to die hadn't affected us in a long time. This was nothing different as I poured the lighter fluid, then took the lighter from Dean and threw it on the pile.
We stayed long enough to make sure the whole thing burned but wouldn't catch the house on fire. Then we left. Silent as we made the trek back through the trees and to the grave again. Dean said nothing as we got back into the truck and started back towards the motel room. It wasn't until we had both taken a shower and checked for wounds that he finally spoke up.
"Did you…" He started. "Did you really just give up?"
I stared down at my hands, wondering the same thing. "I'm not sure it was my choice," I said softly. "She had some sort of hold over me still."
"But not like the one she had over me," Dean said, coming to sit on the bed next to me.
"I guess I wasn't her type." I tried to joke. But when I looked up, his eyes were serious.
"You wouldn't just give up like that would you?" He asked.
The question hit my heart as if he had stabbed me. I had never told him about the deal. Had never had the heart to try and watch him fight against it, or try to find a way out of it. God knew he would try to make his deal to save me. Sammy didn't need to lose both of us. So as hard as it was, I looked Dean in the eyes, and once again lied to him.
"I will always go out fighting."