Well Kept Secrets

"Well?"

"Uhhh...cops are saying it's some sort of animal attack, but so far they haven't been able to explain how it got in the house."

"So what do you think we're looking at?"

"Well, doesn't look like a werewolf because the hearts aren't missing, and it seems pretty safe to say it's not any sort of normal animal, because the cops swear the locks weren't messed with and the alarm was still armed."

"Alright, sounds like our kind of gig. Where we headed?"

"San Francisco."

"Great. Bunch a hippies and homeless people."

"Just grab your stuff and let's hit the road."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sammy! Wake up."

"What? Dean it's like, 6 o'clock in the morning," a groggy Sam replied.

"Dude, I wanna get to the scene as early as we can. Come on, hurry up."

"Alright, alright."

About an hour later, the sleek black '67 Impala pulled up on the curb next to a two story rancher with a nicely groomed front lawn and a black Prius in the driveway. The fake FBI badges got them past the crime scene line without any trouble, and Sam and Dean proceeded to talk to the nearest police officer.

"So what happened?"

"Well, neighbors said they heard screaming, called 911, but by the time dispatchers arrived, bodies were gone, nothing but blood on the floors."

"Who were they?"

"Laurel and Mike Wilson, married for fifteen years, lived in the house for about three, then all of a sudden, gone."

"Was there anyone who might have had anything against them, maybe a grudge or something?"

"Well, Laurel and Mike were just your average married couple. Went out on Friday nights, had holiday parties, the whole deal. Brynn was a different story though."

"Brynn?"

"Laurel and Mike's daughter. She's fourteen now."

"Anything unusual about her?"

"You kidding? She was probably the weirdest kid in the neighborhood, as well as the whole school."

"How so?"

"Well, they lived in the neighborhood for about three years, and I never once saw her have anyone over. Boys, girls, no one. She barely spoke to anyone beyond a sullen 'hello' in the morning. She was smart though. Only a freshman in high school, she was in Algebra 2, read at a college level, and was passing her biology class with flying colors."

"Did she do any sort of sports or anything?"

"She was in the marching band at school, and some of the teachers say it was the only thing she seemed to genuinely enjoy. Her face when she was out performing on that field, I wish she had it more often. Lovely smile she had, shame she didn't show it more."

"You say 'was' a lot. Was she also killed or...?"

"No, nothing like that. About a month ago, Laurel and Mike pulled her out of school."

"Why?"

"Well, the band teacher said he noticed cuts on her arms one day at practice, dance teacher said the same thing."

"She was a dancer?"

"Oh yeah. She was very serious about it. Took ballet lessons at the studio in town, and she was in the school dance class. She could practically tie herself in a knot, she was so flexible. I've never seen anything like it."

"And you said she was cutting herself?"

"Yep. Had little scars all over her arm, and every day there would be a few new fresh ones. Parents got worried, so they took her out of school."

"Hm. Could I maybe take a look around her room?"

"Sure. Straight upstairs, second door on the right."

"Thanks."

Brynn's bedroom was a strange place, but it looked as though she spent most of her time in there. In one corner there was a twin sized bed with lots of pillows and a black bedspread. The floor was covered in dark blue carpet, and in the opposite corner there was a bookshelf that was as tall as the ceiling, completely filled with books. There was a strange assortment, with everything from Sherlock Holmes and Edgar Allan Poe and Lord of the Rings to Shakespeare and Dickens. The walls had pictures of actors and TV shows, and several very well done pencil drawings. In one corner there was a music stand, a drum pad, and a pair of beaten up drum sticks. The closet proved just as boring. There were some clothes, and at one end a couple leotards and a pair of satin pointe shoes. Taped next to the bed were several worn out photographs.

"I thought the sheriff said she didn't have many friends?"

"Let's ask him."

A moment later the sheriff appeared.

"Who are the people in the pictures?" Dean asked.

"Well that one's Brynn," he said, pointing to a dark haired girl in the center. "The two next to her are Mark and Richie. Now, she didn't have a lot of friends, but those two were like brothers to her. But something happened, and they grew apart. I heard her and Mark had some real bad falling out, and never spoke to each other again."

"And when was this?" Sam asked.

"Round about when school started in August," the sheriff replied.

"What school was it?" Dean inquired.

"Clark High School. About twenty minutes drive from here." The sheriff took out a piece of paper from his pocket and scribbled some directions on it. "When you get there, go the the main office and ask to talk to Ms. Wells, and tell her Sheriff Thompson sent you-she'll answer any of your questions."

"Will do. Thanks sheriff."

"No problem."

More chapters coming soon! Let me know what you guys think!