Fighting Through It All [Dean Winchester fanfic] #Wattys2015

Chapter Ten

The first thing I feel is an unbelievable pain in my back. I sit up slowly, rubbing the back of my neck with a groan. I reach down to the small of my back, press in, and then slowly lean backwards. I can feel my back pop, and a sweet relief releases throughout my torso. I let out a sigh, and proceed to stand up, scratching the back of my neck as I make my way over to my bag.

I dig out new undergarments, and just replace those and my grey t-shirt with a blue v-neck. I brush my teeth, and rid my face of any old makeup from yesterday. I replace it with new makeup, just a neutral smokey eye with light pink lips, and I tie my hair up in a pony tail, my hair still lightly curly. All ready to go, I slip on my leather jacket, lace up my boots, and grab my car keys. I knock on the boys' door, and I can hear them grunt in acknowledgement.

I head out the door, locking up behind me. Opening my trunk, I slip a gun and a knife in my belt, as well as two knives in my jacket, and a small knife in my boot. After I'm geared up, I slam my trunk shut, and get into my car, starting it and turning up the music. As I drive off towards the most recent victim's crime scene, I pick up my cellphone, dialling Cory's number. I'm glad when he picks up.
"Hello?" He grumbles, and I soon realize it's only 7:30, on a Saturday, and he doesn't have to go in to work today. Which means he was sleeping. I wince with my realization, but figure it's too late to turn back now.
"Hey babe," I say back, and I just know he's smiling.
"Hey, how're you doing? And why're you up so early?" He groans, and I laugh.
"Just work, that's all," I reply simply, leaving it vague.
"Care to emphasize?" He asks curiously, and I huff.
"You don't want to know," I say, and then shrug. "And it's illegal."
"Illegal? Babe, what are you doing?" He pesters, and I sigh.
"Breaking and entering into a crime scene," I mutter, glancing out the side window.
"What?! Myra! You never told me this part of the job!" He whisper yells, probably not wanting to wake the neighbours. I roll my eyes.
"I've done worse for less," I breathe, leaning back in my seat. "Listen, I just thought I'd check up on you. I miss you."
He sighs. "I miss you too, babe. Love you."
"Love you too."

And we hang up, I pull into the driveway of the most recent victim's home. The place is still surrounded with police tape, considering it's an ongoing investigation and the murder occurred only five days ago. I check my gun for bullets before heading inside, preparing myself for anything. I look around as I duck underneath the yellow tape, just making sure no one's watching before I blatantly enter the crime scene.

I scope around the perimeter of the house first, making sure there are no cops are monster friends to disturb me in my breaking and entering. When the place seems to be clear, I clamber up one windowsill, only my toes on the edge of it. I take a deep breath as I shuffle over to the edge, grabbing onto a thick pipe that runs down the edge of the house. I use all my arm and upper body strength to keep myself suspended as I lift myself up, until I reach the second floor. One foot rests on less than a half inch of metal, that wraps around this pipe,s exuding it to the house. One wrong move can send me tumbling twenty feet onto a garden filled with rocks and other hard things I'd rather not hit my head off of.

I take my knife from my pocket, and lean over to the window. I wiggle the knife in between the crack and twist it, until I hear the lock click, signalling a now open window. I smirk, slowly and carefully put my knife back in my belt, and use one hand to push the window up. With it open, I swing one leg up, feeling the muscles in my leg burn as my foot reaches about chest-level. I hook my leg on, and grab onto the side of the window with one hand, beginning to pull myself in. With one swift movement, I swing my entire body weight over, until my other hand is suspending myself twenty feet above ground, one leg in the house, the other not, and me sitting on the windowsill. I smirk at my scaling abilities, and let myself in, landing with a small thud.

I shut the window, dust myself off, and grab my flashlight which I also tucked underneath my jacket. Despite it being broad daylight out, the cops have the curtains drawn to ward off the press. I begin stalking through the house, as silent as a cat on the prowl. I keep one hand on the knife on my belt, looking around in every which direction for anything odd or out of the ordinary. I pad my way own stairs and into the living room where the corpse was found.