The Darkest Road {Supernatural: Book Two}

Chapter Eleven: Knocking on Heaven's Door

Chapter Eleven:

Knocking on Heaven's Door

"Mama take this badge from me

I can't use it anymore

It's getting dark too dark to see

Feels like I'm knockin' on heaven's door...

Mama put my guns in the ground

I can't shoot them anymore

That cold black cloud is comin' down

Feels like I'm knockin' on heaven's door."

Sometime after our wild encounter with Samhain, we were sitting in a bar doing shots when we got a hit for our next case. In the showers of the Cascade Women's Fitness Center, a woman named Candace Armstrong was allegedly attacked by an invisible being.

Dean seemed very keen to rebuff any and all questions about remembering Hell, and continued to deny flat-out that he could. In order to deter Sam and I from the subject, he urged us to check out the shower-spirit case. I rolled my eyes and wrote this off as typical behavior.

At #1 Lucky Chin's, a restaurant in Concrete, Washington, Sam and I held an interview with the victim, Candace. Sam told her that he was writing a book "tentatively" titled 'Supernatural' (and that I was the editor.) Candace recounted her story to us, clearly soaking up the attention but not knowing how to tastefully handle it. She kept over-dramatizing everything-A.) Leave the hyperboles to the writer, and B) No one thinks that's cute or more 'gripping,' it just makes me wanna reach over and 'grip' you by your throat. Her story wasn't even completely accurate; she would say one thing, and then skip something, and then do a complete backdrag. She acted emotionally scarred and fearful as she told her story, but every time a server popped up she immediately dropped the act and pretended all was well in her magical little Narnia again. Not to mention she kept throwing Sam these flirty little faces, which I was entirely sick of.

She claimed that rather than seriously harming her, the spirit knew her name and helped her when she fell, begging her not to tell its mom. Little weird for a spirit story, but the unheard of was always fun.

Dean and I scanned no EMF at the site of the occurrence, but I did have to watch him scan those coquettish eyes over the empty shower stalls, almost like he was imagining what it was like to be a ghost haunting the Women's Fitness Center. I was really tired of being surrounded by total horn-dogs, the worst being Oz.

A little while after scanning for EMF, Dean, Sam, and I came across a man who claimed to have been attacked by Bigfoot-which all hunters know to be a hoax. One of the few monsters that a wide number of people actually believe in wasn't true-find the irony in that. You can imagine my surprise when sometime later the three of us found huge, unexplainable tracks in the woods that funnily enough lead directly to a raided liquor store.

While we were there, a little girl on a bike dropped off a full box of alcohol and porn, and attached was a "sorry" note. When she passed by us, Dean's favorite skin mag fell right on his feet out of the child's box. We followed her home, and were at a loss for words when she told us that her Teddy Bear was responsible for the damage. The girl's stuffed animal was very real and very vocal, and also apparently in the middle of an existential crisis. The animated stuffed animal was pathetically holed up in the TV room crying at news reports. The young girl, Audrey, told us that she wished for him at the wishing well at Lucky Chin's.