The Year of Redemption

Chapter 44: Belongs To You

Dean and Sandra drove up to the orphanage a few hours after darkness had fallen. All of the lights inside were already off. Dean snuck around to the side, finding a window he had opened earlier for them to get in. Sandra followed him through, then pulled at his arm and pointed to something on the windowsill.

Dean recognized the dark print on the sill. It had five long, pointed fingers extending from its palm. "Shtriga handprint," he identified. "That wasn't here this morning. It might already be inside." He wiped the handprint so it was just a dark smudge on the sill, then crept through the deserted office that they were in.

Dean led Sandra to the main room. Two hallways branched off at either end of the room. "I'll take the left," Sandra said, heading over towards that hallway. Dean made to stop her, but she was already gone. He shook his head and started down the hallway on the right, quietly checking each room as he went.

He got to the last room and heard an inhuman scream. Dean ran back to other hallway and spotted a door near the end of it that was slightly open. He sprinted towards it and burst through.

The shtriga was turning away from the bed and limping towards something on the floor. "Sandra," Dean breathed. The shtriga was injured, and Sandra's iron stake was laying on the floor. Dean waited, his hand tensing on his gun. It has to start feeding, he thought. The shtriga stood over Sandra. A blue light began to emanate from her body, drifting towards the monster's mouth. Dean raised his gun and fired. Almost instantly, the shtriga fell.

"Oomph!" Sandra exclaimed, writhing under the weight of the monster. Dean rushed over and heaved it off of her. "Thanks for that," she said sarcastically.

Dean rolled his eyes, then made his way over to the bed, where a small boy was cowering under the covers. "Hey," he said softly. "It's ok, this is just a dream."

"Dean, we need to leave," Sandra said, somewhat frantically. Dean turned around and helped her heave the monster's body out the window. They hid it behind a bush that hadn't seen a gardener in years, then closed the boy's window and took off before the rest of the orphanage woke up.

Back at the motel, Dean plopped down on the bed. "Make yourself at home, why don't you," Sandra remarked teasingly, dropping her stuff off.

Dean propped himself up on his elbows. "You're pretty good at this hunting thing," he commented.

"I'd be shtriga dinner if it wasn't for you," Sandra replied, taking her coat off and making her way over to the bed.

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty good too," Dean said, cocking his head and grinning conceitedly.

Sandra straddled him on the bed. "Oh, you think you're all that, huh, hotshot?" Dean nodded at her, still smiling. "Well, you sexy brute," Sandra said, bringing her face closer to Dean's. "What else are you good at?" she breathed into his face.

Dean suddenly flipped her onto her back and pinned her hands to the bed. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he said, staring at her.

She smiled devilishly up at him. "I do know," she reminded him.

"Oh, shut up," Dean said, then kissed her and worked his hands along her body, finding the edges of her clothes and stripping them off. They somehow found their way underneath the covers – for the most part – and Dean tried to focus on Sandra, on her body, on his movements. But he constantly found his mind drifting.

It ended quickly, and they both fell on their backs, out of breath. After a few minutes, Sandra looked over at him skeptically. "There's someone else, isn't there?" she asked.

Dean met her gaze. "Now you ask?" he retorted, incredulous.

She just shrugged. "Well, there is, isn't there?"