Supernatural... But Better (Vol. I)

Chapter Twenty Five

"This is it."

Dean pulled the car up to the side of the end of the road, by the bridge. I looked around outside the car, but I couldn't see much, what with how dark it was.

They got out of the car, going around the back of it, to the trunk. I followed, a little slower. Something about the area set me on edge, as if the Hook Man himself was still there. I chalked it up to paranoia, though, because spirits weren't tied to one particular place. That was a poltergeist, and the Hook Man was definitely not one of those. I looked out into the trees, wondering what was out there.

Dean grabbed a rifle out of his store of weapons, handing it to his brother. "Here you go."

I turned, taking a couple of steps away from the car, away from them. My hair was standing almost on end, as if there was something wrong, but I didn't know what.

"If it is a spirit, buckshot won't do much good," Sam said from behind me.

The more I tried to pinpoint the source of the feeling, the less I actually felt it. Instinctively, I started physically searching for it, trying to locate it again.

Dean laughed. "Yeah, rock salt."

My foot hit a little ridge in the ground, and I looked down, finding the rut where the kid's car must've been pulled out. I followed it with my eyes, seeing where it had been parked, and therefore, where Rich's body was hung.

"Huh. Salt being a spirit deterrent," Sam commented, and I heard him load up the shotgun.

"Yeah. It won't kill 'em. But it'll slow 'em down."

I walked towards that spot, staring up at the bridge. There wasn't any physical evidence left — none that I could see, anyway. Whatever he'd been tied up with was gone, the car was gone, and if there was any blood left or anything, then I couldn't see it in the darkness. The only thing that was still there was the sense of foreboding, the feeling that I wasn't supposed to be there. I couldn't tell if it was simply because I was standing in the spot a guy had been murdered, or if it was because the thing that had murdered him was still there.

Suddenly, I heard a rustling noise coming from the treeline the two of them had been walking towards. That odd feeling I had disappeared along with it, leading me to believe it wasn't just tied to the crimes committed there. It was as if whatever was causing it had left, gone somewhere else. If I had felt the presence of the Hook Man, then whatever had made the sound had startled it.

Dean nudged his brother, whispering something. He lifted the shotgun, cocking it, and aimed it at a certain point beyond the trees, presumably wherever the noise was coming from. I peered into the darkness past them, but I couldn't make out much of anything.

A figure emerged, wearing a familiar uniform, and holding its own pistol. "Put the gun down now! Now! Put your hands behind your head."

I stifled an ill-timed laugh. It was the sheriff. Of course it was.

Sam dropped the shotgun immediately, Dean raising his hands in surrender. "W-W-Wait, okay, okay!"

He didn't lower his weapon. "Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!" The brothers obeyed, knowing just how screwed they were. "Now get down on your bellies. Come on, do it!"

I needed to somehow bring attention to myself, and quick, so that it didn't seem like I was trying to hide from the cops. "Oh, thank God you're here, officer!" I exclaimed, stepping forward. My voice was shaking in fake fear and concern, like I was an innocent college student, which is what I was going for. "I told them not to come, but they didn't listen!"