The Rise of Dawn - Dean Winchester

Chapter 1. The Circle of I Hate My Life

Staring at the small family home, Niamh knew that, even if she closed her eyes, she would know where the different colored tiles would lay on the roof, what the brick number was on the front wall of the house and just how much light would have entered the home through the two miniature windows that looked into the kitchen and living room. She leaned against the car and counted the cracks in the asphalt as she wondered why there was a case in this town. Her town. A city she had not been to in 14 years. Nervously, she twirled the gold, one-piece necklace around her neck as the wind blew her brown hair around her head and a few strands grazed her lips. Frustrated, she ran a hand through her locks, her mind telling her that she was better off on this side of the house she had once called home.

As she got into the car, she looked again at the pictures of the victims whose lives, according to Niamh, had been ended by some supernatural being. Niamh took great pleasure in cutting off monster's heads or ripping their hearts out of their chests, depending on which creature it was. And she would do it again, for the creature that caused this town to quiver in fear. 

Four victims, three men and a girl, were found in the Gunnison National Forest with claw marks on their chests, backs and legs, as well as deep wounds on their necks. Niamh briefly felt sadness for the victims, but the emotion was quickly replaced by content - she was glad she'd be the one to put the end to the terror. 

Niamh took one more look at the white-framed windows of the old house before heading toward the police station.

***

"Rachel Butler, FBI" Niamh said to the young police officer at the entrance to the station, introducing herself under one of her many aliases and flashing a fake ID briefly in front of his glasses-adorned face. "I am here because of the murders that happened last month."

"Murders?" a police officer wearing a badge with the last name Baker on his uniform asked in surprise, pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

"Yes, those four poor bastards you found in the woods," Niamh said, tapping her nails on the wooden surface of the table where many papers and pictures were scattered.

"Oh, those weren't murders."

"They weren't?"

"No, they were all animal attacks, according to our pathologist." 

Of course they were.

"Can I see police reports about those animal attacks?" Niamh scolded sarcastically, twirling a piece of paper on the table while looking around the police station.

The space was decorated with  beige walls off of which the smell of coffee, sandwiches and doughnuts bounced. Six dark wooden tables were arranged in two rows of three, but no one sat at them. No one was in the station except for young officer Baker. The bright white light from the ceiling reflected on various photographs of different crime scenes and victims from tables and worktops.

"Why is the FBI even interested in this case?" Baker asked while rummaging through his desk drawers, trying to find the police reports Niamh requested.

"I don't know. I get the call, I do the job." Niamh relaxed and sat down in the chair next to the table where Baker was sitting.

"Don't FBI agents normally have partners?"

"Yeah, they do."

"Where's yours?"

"Sick leave."

"Wounded on duty?"

"Yep."

"How?" Baker leaned forward to hear an intriguing story.