A Very Supernatural Journey Chapter 11
A birthday story for Enkidu07, co-manager of the E/O Drabble Challenge.
by womanofletters, theymp, mainegirlwrites and wynefred
Previous Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]
This chapter by mainegirlwrites
Summary: The search is on for the bagiennik...
Chapter 11: Muddy Waters
Tyrone sat at his desk in the police department, watching his coffee steam. Though his body was still, his mind was racing.
Bagiennik... bagiennik...
Although he had seen - and been attacked - by this monster, it all seemed very unreal to him. If it weren't for Sam and Dean explaining everything, Tyrone would think it was all a bad dream. He rubbed his neck, stiff from the attack. Rosy, the secretary, came up behind him.
"You poor thing, are you okay?" she purred, wrapping her cool hands around his shoulders and massaging them.
"Uh, yeah. Thanks, Rosy. I just have a lot to think about." He leaned forward, attempting to release himself from her grasp. She only leaned forward with him, pushing her heaping bosom into his back.
"Oh, those horrible murders on the university campus," she lamented, shivering. "I'm sureyou will be the one the catch the guy who did it." The Chief of Police walked by Tyrone's desk, an eyebrow raised.
"Tyrone, any leads?" he asked.
"Maybe a few, Chief. I'm working on it," he replied. Thankfully, Rosy took the hint and departed to her desk, swaying her generous hips as she walked by Tyrone. But he was already deep in thought again, pulling out a pen and a blank piece of paper.
This may be a new kind of case, but I'm going to stick with an old-fashioned way of solving it, he thought. Jotting down notes quickly, he began to profile his suspect.
X X X
"Dammit, Rachelle!" Dean cursed in a hoarse whisper. His back was to her, and he leaned against the kitchen counter top on his fists. "You had to go and complicate things...!"
Rachelle leaned against the opposite counter, biting her lower lip. She glanced over at Sam in the living room, who was explaining the case in detail - no holds barred - to Meredith, Shawna, and Amy. She could see their eyes were wide, but they were listening intently.
"I'm sorry, Dean. It's just that when I first came to this universe, I wasn't expecting to see you in reality. I was used to viewing you on a television screen. I didn't know 'Supernatural' didn't exist here. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I screwed it up." Rachelle paused, waiting for Dean's reaction. She watched his shoulder raise in a sigh.
"Okay, it's okay." He turned to face her. "Sammy's good at doing damage control. And I guess the extra ears and eyes on campus can't hurt, either." His mouth was still set in a straight line. Rachelle mentally kicked herself. I screwed up more than this case, she thought. She shivered briefly as she reflected on that moment in the bathroom, where she and Dean had almost kissed. Wrapping her arms around herself, Rachelle joined Dean and the others in the living room.
"So now we need a plan," Sam said, rubbing his hands together. "We know that Rachelle has the ring, and this creature is somehow drawn to it and the vortexes it creates...or maybe he has some sort of talisman that can track the ring - so he can find it. It doesn't seem to be working perfectly well, as the bagiennik hasn't caught up with us yet."
"Always a step or two behind," nodded Shawna. Sam looked at her in surprise. She had a quick mind, and the thought occurred to him that she would make a pretty good hunter.
"Right," he agreed. "I think we need to use Rachelle's ring to turn the tables and find it - before it finds her."
Shawna had been holding the ring, studying it intently. She handed it back to Rachelle. "There may be something interesting in the university library we could use," she suggested. "They have a pretty large primitive societies and occult section."
"It's her major, actually," Amy interjected.
"Okay, so the two geeks can go check that out," Dean suggested, gesturing to Sam and Shawna. "We'll hold down the fort here."
"Uh, well...," Meredith stammered. She looked to Shawna and Amy for help. "There's a candlelight vigil tonight for Laura and Professor Jackson. We thought Rachelle would want to go." Shawna and Amy nodded in agreement.
"Demons I get...," Dean mumbled, his hand running down his face. "You can't be serious. Putting Rachelle out in the open like that - we did that once already. No, we are keeping her right here." His tone became stern. Sam looked at his brother, almost startled. Dean suddenly reminded him of their dad, that same sound in his voice, and Sam had a sudden pang in his chest. He didn't have a chance to reflect further, as Rachelle's back stiffened and she bristled.
"I'm tired, Dean Winchester," she turned to the elder brother, poking his chest right where she knew it hurt him. He winced. "I'm tired of being chased, being tackled by black-lagoon-guy, being in the wrong universe," she poked him again, and Dean took a step back. "...being smelly, being scared, and being told what to do. I'll be damned if you are going to tell me not to go tonight, to a vigil that honors and dignifies the memories of my friends. No monster, and no Winchester, is going to stop me."
A pall of silence fell upon the room. Sam glanced back and forth between Dean and Rachelle, aware of the chemistry between them, and actually interested to see what would occur next. Meredith mentally applauded Rachelle for standing up to Dean - Mer knew Dean was only trying to protect her friend, but she feared he was getting a bit possessive of her, too.
Dean dropped his chin to his chest, chuckling and shaking his head. "Okay, woman scorned. Vigil tonight it is." He raised his eyes to look in hers, and bent in close to her face, pointing a finger. "But I'm not leaving your side, got it?"
Rachelle nodded, smiling back at him, and the tension in the room eased. "I'd like that," she said softly.
X X X
"Hey," Shawna huffed, "I know you're in a hurry, but can you slow down?"
Sam stopped abruptly, letting her catch up. She smiled up at him, catching her breath, tendrils of red hair falling around her face.
"Thanks," she breathed. They were on their way across campus to the library to research the ring. The late afternoon was upon them, and some of the light posts along the sidewalk began to flicker on. It was a quiet night, and Shawna missed the activity of the other students. She wondered when the campus-wide lockdown would be lifted.
"Sorry," said Sam. "I usually don't have company for this part." He began walking again, this time slower.
"What do you mean, 'this part'?"
"The research. Dean is more of the brawn, I'm more of the brains," he joked.
"I'm not so sure about that," Shawna responded, admiring the width of Sam's biceps.
"What?"
"Nothing...the library is this building to the right. I'm assuming we can get in, even though it's closed?"
Sam grinned, flashing his lock picking kit at her. In a few moments, they had entered the immense building. Shawna reached for the lights, but Sam handed her a flashlight instead.
"Oh, right," she nodded and giggled. "Don't want anyone to know we are here!"
Sam frowned slightly at her response, and she mentally kicked herself. Duh, break into a building, of course we don't want anyone to know we are here! Chagrined, she lead him to the occult section, and they each began to browse the volumes, occasionally picking out a volume and flipping through it. After a while, Sam settled down at a table with five or six books, and opened his laptop.
Shawna continued her search, occasionally peeking through the holes in the bookshelves to watch Sam at work. The soft light from his computer reflected off his chiseled features, and he swept a hand through his mane of hair from time to time. Shawna ran a finger down the spine of a thick volume, wondering what it would be like to run her fingers down -
"How long are you going to keep peeking at me back there?" Sam asked her without raising his eyes from the laptop's screen.
"Oh - um, sure," she stuttered. She came over and sat across from him at the table. "Sorry. Is there anything I can help with?"
Sam pushed two books in her direction and tapped them with his pencil.
"Right..." she nodded, still feeling incompetent. She was grateful that Sam could not see her flushed cheeks in the dark. "...and I'm looking for...?"
"Any mention of finding spells, as in objects that can find each other. Also, any lore mentioning rings or fish-like creatures."
They fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of Sam typing or Shawna turning a page. Finally, her eyes fell upon something interesting.
"Sam," she said, tapping a page, a broad smile stretching across her face, "I may have something."
X X X
Rachelle lay on the couch, giving in to its soft, warm cushions. She had a few minutes to just relax until Meredith and Amy came home with a few cases of bottled water that she would use to wash up.
Dean sat in a small leather chair across the room, gazing out of one of the windows that overlooked the campus. Rachelle smiled to herself, silently studying his body language. To her, it spoke volumes: I know we are alone and I like you, Rachelle, it said, but I'm still a little bit pissed off. So I'm going to sit over here and ignore you for a little bit, okay? The daylight was slowly fading, the room was quiet, and Rachelle closed her eyes.
She was swimming under water, moving very quickly. She looked next to her - someone was swimming alongside of her - the bagiennik.
Henri.
He turned and nodded to her, the words coming to her in her head. Yes, my name is Henri. I have a name and I had a family and a life. But it's all gone, now. It's all gone.
She watched him as she swam alongside, and he didn't really look very frightening anymore.
I don't want to hurt you, he said. He pointed down below him, where the water was lifeless and dead, and rows of bagiennik skulls were lined up on the sandy bottom. Suddenly Henri was close to her, reaching for something - but she was under water and couldn't breathe and when she tried to scream -
"Rachelle!"
Dean's cool hand touched her cheek, attempting to wake her from her dream. He bent down in front of her, looking into her eyes, and Rachelle sat up, confused.
"You were having a bad dream."
"It was Henri."
"Who?" Dean held her hand, concerned.
"The bagiennik, Dean. He was in my dream - or more of a vision. He doesn't want to hurt me, but he needs something, I don't know what - ," her words began to run together.
Dean moved beside her on the couch, enveloped her in his arms, and kissed her forehead. "Hey, it's all right, okay? I promise you we'll get the bad guy."
"Dean, I'm not so sure that Henri is all that bad. He said he lost his family - and all the others like him are dead!"
"Well good, that means there are less to kill," Dean replied nonchalantly.
"Ugh! Sometimes, Dean Winchester, you - ," Rachelle pushed him away and stood up, frustrated. She was beginning to have a whole lot of empathy for Sam. Before Rachelle could form her thoughts more coherently, Dean's phone rang and Meredith and Amy walked in with the cases of bottled water.
"Sam's found something," Dean told them, clicking off his phone. "We'll meet him and Shawna at the vigil in about an hour. Get washed up, Rachelle. We've got a big night ahead of us."
X X X
The daylight was fading, but Tyrone had one more house to check. He had been interviewing tenants of the rows of rental homes along the river for over an hour. More often than not, even with flashing his police badge, folks had been reluctant to talk. The houses were old and dilapidated, and most of the renters unemployed. A few snarling dogs had even confronted Tyrone when he turned down an alley, challenging him for the contents of an overturned garbage can.
He crossed over a set of old railroad tracks as he headed towards the last house, set off by itself.
Wrong side of the tracks, he thought, frowning. Maybe my profile is way off.
Almost immediately, he was overwhelmed with a noxious smell. He covered his nose with his arm, gagging.
Rotting fish? Old seaweed? he couldn't quite place it. Coughing and shaking his head, he knocked on the door. He heard a shuffling of feet approach the door from inside, and it opened about two inches.
"Yes?" An elderly woman peeked at him from around the corner of the door. Her eyes were milky white, thick with cataracts.
"Yes, hello, my name is Detective Tyrone," he said, holding up his badge. He brought it back down again, realizing she was blind. "Could I come in?"
"Well...," she said, biting her lower lip. "I haven't done anything wrong."
"I'm looking for someone - a man who may be responsible for some attacks here on the river."
"Oh - oh my. Well, that sounds like a very dangerous man."
Tyrone shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was tired and hungry, and it was getting late. He knew he would be on duty at the vigil tonight, and he was hoping to get a quick nap in before confronting another long night.
The door creaked open a little bit more, and Tyrone spied a pile of wet towels on the kitchen floor.
"Ma'am, do you live alone?" he asked her, his interest suddenly piqued. The woman immediately looked nervous.
"Yes, yes, I'm the only one here. There is no one else," she stammered, her voice rising. Her lips puckered in anger. The door slammed closed in Tyrone's face.
Tyrone turned and walked away, contemplating how to obtain a search warrant based on some wet towels and a hunch. He glanced back at the putrid-smelling house once more, suddenly realizing that with her puckered lips and white eyes, the old lady looked a lot like a dead fish.
X X X
Read Chapter 12: Caught in the Riptide