Dawson's Daughter | {BOOK 1}

35|Better Hunter

"I'll flip you for the sofa," Jo told me.

"Does your mother even know you're here?" I growled.

I was still pissed about what had happened in the hall.

"Told her I was going to Vegas," she shrugged.

"You think she's gonna buy that?" Dean jumped in.

"I'm not an idiot. I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos."

"You know, you shouldn't lie to your mom," Dean pointed out. "Shouldn't be here either."

"Well, I am. So untwist your boxers and deal with it."

"Where'd you get all that money from, anyway?" Sam inquired.

"Working at the Roadhouse."

"Hunters don't tip that well," I glared.

"Well, they aren't that good at poker, either," Jo glared right back at me.

Just then, Dean's phone began to ring and he answered it while watching Jo and my staring contest.

"Yeah... Oh, hi, Ellen."

Jo moved her gaze from me, to Dean. Dean held the phone away from his face, addressing Jo.

"I'm telling her," he whispered.

The pair had a furious, muttered argument, faces inches apart. Once again, Sam had to hold me back from jumping on Jo as Dean continued to speak into the phone.

"I haven't seen her," he lied. "Yeah, I'm sure... Absolutely."

He hung up, glaring down at Jo, who grinned up at him innocently.

⁘

Dean paced while Jo sat at the table with blueprints spread out. Sam sat across from her and I was leaning against the wall. I could feel Dean's eyes on me, but was too busy glaring at Jo while she spun a small knife in her hand to pay him any mind.

"This place was built in 1924," Jo was explaining. "It was originally a warehouse, converted into apartments a few months ago."

"Yeah? What was here before 1924?" I asked her.

"Nothing. Empty field."

"So, most likely scenario, someone died bloody in the building, and now he's back and raising hell," Sam said.

"I already checked," Jo shook her head. "In the past eighty-two years, zero violent deaths. Unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor. Would you sit down?"

The last part was directed at Dean. I felt his eyes leave me as he took a seat in the chair next to Sam.

"So, have you checked police reports, county death records..." Dean asked.

"Obituaries, mortuary reports and seven other sources," Jo confirmed. "I know what I'm doing."

"I think the juries still out on that one. Could you put the knife down?"

Jo paused her swinging, doing as she was told.

"Okay! So, uh, something else, then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought the spirit with it," Sam suggested.

"Well, we've got to scan the whole building. Everywhere we can get to, right?"

"Right," Dean nodded. "So, you and me, we'll take the top two floors."

"We'd move faster if we split up," Jo protested.

"Oh, this isn't negotiable."

⁘

"You good?"

I glanced back at Sam. We had been paired up together while Dean and Jo were paired up.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Ellie, you looked like you were about to kill Jo yourself."

"Yeah, well, maybe if she kept her hands off of Dean," I muttered quietly, but Sam still heard me.

"You know, as soon as we got back to the apartment he started undressing you with his eyes."

"W-what?"

"Dean. As soon as Jo showed up. He refused to take his eyes off you for more than a few seconds."

I felt my cheeks heat up as I thought about what Sam was implying. As we rounded a corner, we heard low voices, and I shushed him so we could listen.

"...I don't know if you've noticed, but you're exactly the spirit's type," Dean's voice carried over to us.

"Exactly," Jo answered him.

"You wanna be bait?"

"Quickest way to draw it out and you know it."

"Oh."

"What?"

"I'm so regretting this."

"You know, I've had it up to here with your crap."

"Excuse me?"

"Your chauvinist crap. You think women can't do the job."

"Sweetheart, this ain't gender studies. Women can do the job just fine. Hell, Ellie might be a better hunter than me or Sam. Amateurs can't. You have no experience. What you do have is a bunch of half-baked romantic notions that some barflies put in your head."

I swallowed hard, unable to process anything after Dean complimented me. He thought I was a good hunter. Hell, he thought I might be better than him or Sam. I felt a hand on my elbow, and looked up at Sam. He put a finger to his lips, guiding me off in a different direction, away from where Dean and Jo's voices had been coming from. I let him, unable to do anything more than repeat Dean's words in my head over and over again.

⁘

Dean ended up on the sofa, and Sam was on a recliner. They let Jo and I have the beds. However, when I woke up the next morning, Jo wasn't in the other bed and I heard voices coming from the other room.

"How'd you sleep in that big soft bed?" Dean asked.

"I didn't," Jo replied. "Just been going over everything."

There was a beat of silence.

"Here," Dean said.

"What's this for?"

"Work a hell of lot better than that pig-sticker you're twirling around."

There was another bout of silence, and I knew she had handed him the knife she had been twirling.

"William Anthony Harvelle," she informed him.

"I'm sorry. My mistake."

They talked about their dads for a few minutes, and then I heard Jo's voice asking a question that made my heart stop in my chest.

"So... What's the deal with you and Ellie?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Dean. I'm not stupid. I noticed the way you've been looking at her since I arrived."

"N-nothing. It's nothing."

"You really expect me to believe that?"

"Ellie and I have known each other practically our entire lives. There's nothing going on between us, I swear."

"Does she know you think that?"

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It means she looks at you the same way when you're not looking, Romeo."

There was a long silence, and I climbed out of bed to head into the other room. However, before I could show myself, the front door opened and shut and Dean spoke again.

"Where's the coffee?"

"There are cops outside," Sam's voice answered. "Another girl disappeared."