Fighting Through It All [Dean Winchester fanfic] #Wattys2015

Chapter Eleven

After hiding all of the stuff representing our hunt, we call the police. They come soon enough, and find Sam, Dean, and I all standing around the corpse. I keep my mouth shut, knowing just exactly what killed this man. The police whisk the body away, but not before breaking to us FBI agents that this body fits the same MO as the other victims; cause of death is a stab to the heart, and the bodies are drained of blood.

When the cops leave, we all sit around the table in the boys' room. I hold my head in my hand, cursing myself for not knifing that son of a gun when I had the chance. I come to the realization that I still haven't old the boys what we're up against.
"It's a creature from Indian lore, mostly affiliated with the Ioway, Otoe, and Winnebago tribes," I state, breaking the silence. The two boys look up at me as I stare dully at the table, tracing different invisible patters with my finger lver the smooth surface. "It's called Sharp Elbows, seeing as it has spikes in it's elbows which it uses to kill it's victims before drowning them of their blood to feed off of," I continue.
"How did you-" Sam begins, but I cut him off, too angry with myself to listen to petty questions.
"I just know. It slashed it's elbows at me," I freeze, realizing just exactly how do that sounds. I shake the thought from my head. "Anyways, it's also known as Double-Face. It kills it's victims by revealing it's true form, which puts them into a fear paralysis, if you will. It stashes the frozen body in it's lair, and returns later to kill it."
Dean furrows his eyebrows. "Wait, if you saw it's true form...how are you still alive?" He asks. I just give him a dead stare.
"I've seen things scarier," I reply simply, and you can see him gulp. I shake my head. "You kill this thing with a silver knife to the heart. It can reawaken if you remove the knife and feed it human blood, but as long as that knife is lodged in it's chest, it'll stay dead."
Sam shrugs. "Well, since we know how to kill it, let's go!" He states simply. Beginning to stand. I shake my head.
"You won't be able to just pick it out of the crowd. It can change it's appearance, and since I've already seen it's most recent form, it'll have changed again. We don't know what it looks like, and I don't particularly feel like driving silver knives into people's hearts until we get the right guy," I snap, and Sam sits down. Is gin, rubbing my temples. "We just need to find the pattern. It knows it's being hunted now, so it'll probably squeeze in one or two more kills before jumping towns."

So we begin to get to work. Sam stays back to research the pattern, trying to find any connection besides Mr. Ruth. However, it's exactly Mr. Ruth that Dean and I dress up to go and visit. I grab my badge again from my car, and hop into the passenger seat of the Impala, shutting the door as Dean starts the car.

We discuss how I've noticed it's hunting method, with it watching it's victims before it hunts. Dean and I on the way, call the parents or relatives of the old victims, and ask if their children or sisters or brothers had been feeling like they'd been followed for a couple days before their death. We strike gold with every single one of them. We come to the conclusion that I rushed the Sharp Elbows attack by leading it out to the alleyway.

I tell Dean to brace himself before we go inside. He asks why, but his question is soon answered when Mr. Ruth answers the door upon our knocking. He groans at the appearance of Dean, his chapped lips curling up in a snarl, revealing yellowed and crooked teeth, that look like there's a couple missing. However, when he spots me, he gets a sly smirk on his face and his eyes grow darker. Dean squirms beside me as he sees Mr. Ruth's reaction to me. I just huff, not having time for their little ego match.
"Mr. Ruth, this is my partner, Special Agent Stanford," I introduce Dean, whom flashes his fake badge. Mr. Ruth glares at Dean, who keeps a straight face yet disgust in his eyes. I roll my own eyes, and grit my teeth. "Listen, there we need to speak to you."
The old man laughs, his breath reeking of whiskey and cigarette smoke. I fight back the urge to vomit, but continue to give him a straight face. When he's done laughing, he gives us both a dead stare, looking slightly annoyed. "Listen missy, I've already answered all your questions," The old man slurs. Dean looks like he could explode.
"Agent Nadia has more questions for you, so I'd advise that you cooperate," Dean snaps, his eyes dark. His appearance actually worries me, but I don't let it show. The old slob lets us in reluctantly, and leads us into the living room once again. And also once again, a rather...inappropriate TV show is displayed on the screen. I grimace, thankful when he mutes it. I sit while Dean stands, arms crossed, glaring at Mr. Ruth from across the room. Mr. Ruth doesn't seem to care, and proceeds to open another cold one. I wonder how many that makes today.