*September 13, 2009 18:45*
"She was soooo over the top, man." Alicia laughed into the phone and put down her math book once and for all. "I think Miss Burns just misses Stan. Remember, she hasn't talked about him all week." Alicia could hear the giggle on the other end. "Oh Stan brought me roses," she said, imitating the teacher's voice. "Stan took me on a date, Stan this, Stan that… And then all of a sudden nothing… I can't believe I'm actually starting to miss our very own daily soap."
They'd just spent half an hour wasting time with homework and the remaining hour and a half talking about anything and everything on earth. Including, of course, a good dose of gossip about their teachers. What else ever happened in this town? But it was about time to say goodbye. Her mom had yelled up the stairs twice now, warning her to put down the phone. If she was stupid enough to make her mom call up a third time, she was sure to lose her phone privileges for a month.
Alicia picked up New Moon and put her head down on her pillow. She stared up at the ceiling, feeling her head spin. Miss Burns had told them to have book reports ready by tomorrow. She'd picked New Moon this time, figuring that since she'd already read it like a dozen times, it'd be a piece of cake. She'd been wrong. Miss Burns had reminded them that their life depended on getting a good grade this year. It had gotten a laugh out of most of the class. Her tummy was rumbling, but it wasn't time to eat yet. Not here, not now. So Alicia listened to the Jonas brothers and let them overwhelm the sound of incessant drums. In her mind she went to one of their concerts, and all she had to do was pick which one to kiss first.
The scent of her mom's herbs flowed out of the kitchen. Miniscule seeds floated through the air, between cracks and doorways along with the stench of Ricky's dirty diaper. The dog was eating, munching loudly next to the washer that was turning downstairs. Mom had promised that her new shirt would be ready to wear by morning. She could hear Ricky watching TV while moving around in his baby walker.
The neighbours were having another fight. She buried her face in her hands just to stop herself from heading over to the window and yelling at them to just kiss and make up for crying out loud. It's what they always did, so why the constant drama? They behaved like those kids on one of those nineties teen shows. She wondered if they'd been stuck in that time or something. At least she was smart and responsible and God, she needed something. She licked her gums and tasted her teeth; they felt too large for her mouth at times.
When she heard a scuffle on the railing, she wondered if the neighbour's cat was making another visit. She instinctively grabbed the box with treats. Tiger often came by; sometimes he'd scratch his claws on the windowpane. It's why she kept the treats in the room, she'd shake some out and give them to him in return for letting her scratch him behind the ears. Tiger had this little white spot around his eye that stood out against his orange fur. It made it look like he was wearing an eye patch. The tomcat hadn't come by since she got back. The one time he saw her, his hair had stood up and he'd hissed at her while backing away.
She went up to the window, looked up and flinched as the windowpane shattered. She could hear mom yelling downstairs. The man's face was hidden in the sunlight barely getting past his back. All she could see was the crossbow held in his hands. She shivered in the light; it hurt her eyes. Her mouth fell open, but she stayed quiet, frozen like a deer in the headlights.
The freak looked as if he'd stepped right out of a grunge cover. It was the way he was dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt and a denim jacket. If he'd been a bit less scruffy she could imagine him on some photo shoot. Hell, even with the scruffiness. Hot; definitely, but he was no Edward. Even Simon wasn't that hot. The guy was in serious need of some reliable fashion advice. Crew cuts were just so passé. He raised his crossbow. It took her a second to realize that she ought to be scared. What was he doing? And with a crossbow?
She screamed in pain as the bolt hit her in the chest. She struggled against the numbness. There were footsteps running up the stairs, imom/i. She had to try and put every bit of effort in the fight to get back up. But her limbs did no more than tingle. It felt as if the blood in her body had stopped flowing and would not follow her commands. She needed to move.
She reached for his leg, or she wanted to. But even inches were beyond her. The man grabbed the knob and locked the door.
He was just a man, only a man. She needed to get away now! She couldn't even find the breath she needed for another scream.
"Please, help me." Why hadn't her mom heard her, iplease mommy help me!/i
Alicia stared wide-eyed as the man pulled out a big ass knife and knelt next to her, his hand on her shoulder. She started crying. This was so unfair! She was supposed to live forever.
*September 14, 2009 6:21*
Sam woke up to the sound of knocking on the walls; telling him to stop the goddamn screaming already. Lucifer had come calling, again.
The first night it had happened, he'd packed his stuff almost before he'd rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He'd just thrown his key at the motel clerk and didn't even bother to resign his job at the bar. Then he'd gone to his car and called Dean. He needed help and even now, Dean was still the first to call. In Sam's mind, he always would be.
He'd stepped into his car and drove off. He didn't really drive anywhere, had no idea where he could go. He just drove and drove until his eyelids started drooping. He barely managed to park the car on the side of the road before he fell asleep behind the wheel. After Dean… after Dean told him goodbye, he couldn't move, shocked, his heart beating a thousand miles an hour. His hands had held the steering wheel as if it were a saving grace. He'd put his head on the wheel, grabbed a crucifix and prayed.
"They won't listen. You know that, don't you?" He'd looked up, scared of who he'd find. Madison had looked at him, one hand on his knee. The other rested over the blood from the bullet wound in her chest. "They don't care about you. Why would they?"
He could see the seams of the wheel pushing into his skin as he turned the car around and drove back. Her bloodied hand covered his.
"I never stood a chance, Sam. Not with the Winchester brothers on the job. I could have had a life, some kind of life, if you'd let me. If you had just tried to lock me up. If you had tried to save me." But he did try. "I know you tried, Sam, but deep down inside, you were happy to be rid of me. Happy that you didn't have to learn to love again. Not so soon after Jess."
He'd turned away, stared at his reflection and the darkness behind the glass. By the time he found the strength to face her, she was gone and 'he' sat there. "There is no redemption Sam, for neither of us."
He woke up as headlights from oncoming traffic hit the windows. He stared into blue and white flashlights and looked up at a cop who was knocking on his window, shining a torch in his face. "Come on buddy, this isn't a camping spot."
He wiped his hands across his eyes. "Are you drunk?" The cops voice sounded like harsh gravel.
Sam quickly shrugged and looked away. The cop went back to his car and Sam shivered.
His fingers had twitched as he turned the car and went back for real. By the time he drove back into town, he had to ask for a new motel room, The clerk looked at him as if he were insane. Maybe he was. Sam looked on in envy as a short balding man carried his blushing bride over the threshold of his old room.
A mere three hours had passed and he was right back where he started from.
Back in the same town, the same motel. But this time even he couldn't fool himself that he 'could' ever lead a normal life. He could pretend he was like everyone else. But he was no longer fooling himself that it would last. He fell asleep as soon as he dropped on the bed. It was almost one. Ava smiled at him. She'd been his sister in blood. Born like him out of a demon's deal, fed with demon blood when she was an infant, just like him. Would Lucifer now be wearing her body, if she'd been the one to win? If she hadn't died, would she have said yes? He was almost afraid to turn away by now, knowing that if he did, they'd be gone and Lucifer would be with him instead. The scraggy man looked at him with that soft gentle smile as if he actually cared about Sam. How miserable did you have to be, to have the Devil feel sorry for you?
The third night Sam had looked at his razor for over an hour. The only thing that had stopped him from cutting his wrists was looking in his mirror and seeing Dean's little brother. Dean might never trust him again. Dean might even be right about that. But Sam hoped Dean wouldn't want him dead.
Besides, dying now would be taking the easy way out. If it even lasted.
He grabbed a washcloth and wiped it across his eyes, unwilling to go back to sleep. He took the remote and turned on the TV.
"A second body was found in Garber, Pennsylvania. Sixteen year old Allison Stein was found decapitated in her bedroom at her father's home. This is the second such murder in the small community after seventeen year old Alicia Johnson was murdered last night. The suspect is still at large."
Sam couldn't help listen and wonder. His hand was almost on his Blackberry, as he thought of all the things that would kill by decapitation. Things like Hunters
Hank and his friends had left town. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Maybe he should go look for them. They were Hunters, if he told them the truth, if he told them about Lucifer ...
b*September 20, 2009 20:15*/b
Derek noticed the car first. This was only supposed to be a chance to warn a potential victim, get her to safety. Her name was next on the list, more than that, it was last on the list. Right after their missing girl's. If the unsub got this one as well, they might lose their last chance to catch him in the act. The dark Chevy Impala stood ominously, a street back. The hood was still warm. He hit the speed dial to Rossi as soon as he saw it, hoping for reinforcements to get there soon.
When he got to the building, he couldn't help stare up. It was one of the only high-rises in the city. It was rundown, had about ten or twelve floors and of course, the girl had to live on one of the top floors. Almost as if God himself was against him, there was an out-of-order sign stuck next to the elevator. Derek tried the button anyway, just to be sure. The light didn't even turn on. He took a quick look at his watch. The sound of sirens grew louder, but he couldn't waste time to wait for back up. Instead he forced his legs up the stairs, floor after floor, cramps or no cramps. He pushed his limits as far as he could take them. What else was he supposed to do? Let some girl die because of a cramp?
The FBI agent barely managed to keep himself from bumping into some nerdy guy in a trench coat perched in the middle of the stairway on the ninth floor. Derek made a quick note of the man and ran on, his breath growing more laboured at each landing. He jumped two or more steps at a time until he reached his destination. The number, ten, glared at him in accusation. People in the hallway stared at him as if he were mad. Derek burst through the crowd and moved right to the door he was looking for. Then he heard a scream. He didn't even bother to see if the door was locked or not before he kicked it in. He heard loud thumps coming from his left. Derek held his gun at ready and tore the door open. It gave way to a built in coat closet. He hesitated when he noticed the woman lying on the ground. She was bound and gagged, but she motioned her head towards the hallway.
He left her behind and moved on through the hall, aware of any change in sounds. He was ready for gunfire as he kicked in yet another door. Wooden block letters marked it as Lizzie's.
Their unsub was crouched over the girl's body, finishing off his last cut. The girl's head rolled sideways a few feet away from the body. When the murderer finally turned towards the door Derek stilled at the sight of blood spattered on the man's face, shirt and pants.
Derek lifted his gun, aiming it straight between the bastard's eyes.
"You're under arrest," he stated coldly, in control, every inch the federal agent. Anything to keep from letting out his anger at failing yet another little girl whose only crime was to be a Twilight-fan.
"Not again." The unsub stated."What is it with you people?" he sounded almost tired. "She was already dead." The words came out as by rote, as if he knew Derek wouldn't believe him before he even said anything in protest. The man raised his arms. Morgan knew it wouldn't be that easy so he kept his gun on their main suspect.
"Drop the knife."
The unsub smirked, and for a moment Derek wondered if the psycho was going to jump at him with it. With this guy, who knew? He'd already killed eight teenagers in the last week alone. Derek almost wished he would, it'd give him an excuse to just shoot; no trial, no parading in front of the cameras, no attention to raise the murderer's ego, simple righteous judgement.
He forced down the idea and behaved like the professional he'd been trained to be.
The knife hit the floor. Morgan pushed the bastard to the floor a bit harsher than he should have,. "Where's Sharon Miller?" He demanded. The murderer muttered something, but it was too low for Derek to overhear.
Three SWAT guys came running into the room, weapons at ready, barely lowering their guns as they noticed that the suspect was already down.
Derek got up and let the cops take over. He pretended not to notice when one of the cops came close to pushing the man over as he was being cuffed. Rossi and Prentiss entered the room; they'd been no more than a few steps behind the cops.
Derek was glad that no one had mentioned anything about him going after the subject on his own. It had been a risk, but if he hadn't done so, the murderer would have probably been out of the room before they made it to the right floor. The guy had been slippery enough to evade them on the last two crime scenes, despite the presence of half the city's police force.
"You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you." The lead officer stated the far too familiar phrases with a wide range of emotions. Relief that they finally got him, but mostly rage, that it had taken them this long to do so.
"Oh come on." The unsub repeated. "A bit more careful will you? I'm delicate." It wasn't until then that Derek noticed the bandage on the man's neck.
"Shut it Winchester."
Morgan closed his eyes and held his breath before staring into the suspect's green eyes, old eyes that seemed strangely at odds with the wink, or the smart ass remarks. It was almost as if he was stuck playing a role that no longer fit. The uniforms dragged him up, his hands cuffed behind his back, as Rossi stared after him.
"So how did he fake his death this time?"
"Henrickson called in their death, an hour before.... They killed all those people just to cover their tracks." It wasn't quite shock, they knew what people could be capable of. But to see Winchester act as if he was being dragged away from a misdemeanour instead of...
Prentiss moved over to the corpse, careful not to step in any of the evidence. "His brother's probably got the other girl."
Derek shot into action. He ordered the uniforms to start checking the immediate area. He forced himself to think of anything he remembered on the two brothers, one a psychopath, the other reportedly either his unwary accomplice, or the one hallucinating and telling his brother who to kill.. They'd need extra security as well; anything to make sure that the younger Winchester wouldn't be able to break his brother out of jail. The mass murder in Colorado was fresh in his mind. Over ten people had died in Monument and to think the Winchesters had simply stepped away and faded into the background... the search called off, their files closed. What would stop them from trying the same trick a second time. Derek followed the officers downstairs. Winchester needed to be thoroughly checked. The man was a prima escape artist, you could probably stake your life on it that he was wearing a lock pick or two.
It wasn't about catching him, it was about holding on to him, until he was in a maximum security prison, until neither his brother, nor his friends could come break him out.
Derek wondered who'd they'd offended to get this case thrown at them. And most of all, they'd need a better idea of what had been happening in the area to lure the Winchester brothers to the town. Because with them, what lured them in was often as dangerous if not more so, than they themselves were.