Mommy Winchester

Part 1

"Okay, so this yolk died about four hours ago," your assistant sighs as she flips through the paperwork. "Apparently he died - from having his chest torn open."

You raise your brows as you slip on your elastic gloves, glancing at the body on the cold metal table of your mortuary, the white sheet hiding the remains from you.

Your morgue looks like any other you've ever seen, silver cold chambers lining the walls, three metal tables in the center of the room awaiting new occupants. The room smells of sterility and death, the luminescent bulbs in the lights above giving off that annoying hum as they dim and brighten every now and again, the entire room as cold as an ice box itself; your office was just outside, the blinds drawn on all the windows as you were very serious about your privacy.

"His chest was torn open?" you ask, raising your brows.

"That's what the other coroner says. Shall we have a looksy?" Tara asks, pushing her glasses up her freckled nose. She looks eager, which doesn't surprise you; she was a rather morbid helper, and you weren't sure if that had come before or after her death.

You found her quirks all the more amusing for it.

You chuckle as you nod your head.

For the past five years, you'd been working as a coroner in a small town where the most exciting thing that happened was the street light changing colors. You like it that way - everything simple, calm, boring.

After the life you've lived, it was a blessing to find a place so... so unremarkable.

So human.

Well, mostly.

Your assistant, Tara, was a vampire.

Tara didn't know you knew what she was, she had no idea that you used to be a hunter, that you had known the second you got close to her she was a bloodsucker; but she was harmless, she didn't feed off humans, at least none in the close vicinity.

And as long as she didn't bother you or the town, you didn't give two shits what she did.

You just want to play the small-town coroner who takes her son out for ice cream on Saturdays after his baseball games, the single mother who moved into town after her husband died in a hunting accident before their son was born.

That's all you want.

That's all you want your son to know.

You didn't want him to know that monsters were real, that every night you check the salt across every window and door, had an anti-possession tattoo on your back that you hid beneath your shirt - you had to keep him safe.

You had to make sure nothing happens to him.

He was all you had left in the world.

You sigh as your nod your head, your hair bound loosely behind you as Tara slowly peels the sheet away from the victim, some Rob Lowe looking fellow.

You were a pretty good coroner, in your opinion, considering your license was fake. You had never been squeamish, which is why you had been such an excellent hunter when it came to looking at the mottled corpses.

Tara even turns a little green as the sheet is removed.

You frown.

This... was not an animal attack.

You step closer to the victim, your eyes flicking over his chest.

"There's a sharp incision that starts from his throat to his pelvic area," you mutter, Tara having to take a step back before she could even begin taking notes, having a weak stomach despite being a creature of the night herself. "It looks like none of the organs were damaged, although the.... the heart is missing completely."