Tough Love ✔️

Demons and Other Things

Though you didn't like to admit it, the long road trip that took from Sioux Falls, South Dakota to New York State was enjoyable to a degree. First, you weren't driving - a leisure which allowed you an hour of sleep on the backseat. And Dean was behind the wheel.

And his gorgeous old music was almost picturesque.

At one point in the state of Pensilvania, Blue Oyster Cult came on one of the cassettes - the song he'd hummed that night the two of you and Sam had gone on that hunt; Burnin' for you - and though you saw a noticeable cringe on Sam's face (you wondered what made him feel that way, it was a decently awesome tune), you shared also very noticeable glances with Dean.

Who was lip reading the lyrics in the rear vision mirror to you. It brought a smile to your face, a faint one.

You wondered idly if he felt the same about you - the fluttering feeling in the chest, middle-school sort of crush on each other. You were a tough girl. He was a tough guy.

But...you wanted something to come out of it.

"Are we there yet?" you whined, averting your eyes to the asphalt that ran for what seemed like ever on the road you and the boys took. "C'mon, it's been like, hours. I need to stretch or something."

Sam grunted some agreement to you, and with a groan, Dean pulled his baby off the blacktop and onto a pull off area with rundown picnic tables and old tall trees and a lake. The water brought a cool breeze onto your skin and you peeled your jacket off, grateful for the wind.

"Looks nice here," you heard Sam stretch, and Dean nodded.

"Real pretty," you added.

"We'd make it by nightfall if you too didn't want to -," he fell silent, letting his grumblings remain inside his mind.

You weren't out out at all by it - it was such a nice day; the trees stood silent and still even though the air snaked its way every which-way, and you saw footprints in the dirt, leading toward the lake.

Curious, you left the boys to their stretching and internal grumblings and followed the prints a fair distance to the lake, making sure you remembered where you had gone so not to becoming utterly and hopelessly lost. To your embarrassment, you could admit truthfully that it had happened before.

But just as you made it to the edge of the clearing, three feet or so away from the water's edge, you realised something was more than a bit wrong with the trail.

It just ... ended.

A right foot print, a left footprint and then ... Nothing. Not even an indentation or a place where it could have been and then smothered over, like covering of tracks.

You could still hear Dean and Sam bantering - brotherly disputes you'd never understand since you never had a brother - and tilted your head to try and understand what had happened to make the footprints just go.

It had your type of hunting labelled all over it.

You went to turn back to walk to the boys and tell all about the find you had made - a case in the making - but then you saw. The footprints had just disappeared. And you were terrible at orienteering. You took your phone out to use the maps, heck, GPS might work, but you heard a deep voice behind you and in shock and very unprofessionally for your line of work, you jumped.

And dropped your phone into a rock. The sound of the screen smashing wasn't enough to bring you out of the wraparound sensation of fear you felt.

"I'm lost," the voice said.

You turned to see a man, around thirty dressed for hiking but he didn't look like he would be up to it - as his head was bleeding profusely and hands bloodied.

"My car is just over there," you lied, pointing to the expanse of forest around you. "I can give you a ride into the nearest hospital."

Something wasn't right. The man shouldn't have been conscious with that much blood loss. You took a step back, and the man smiled, teeth bloody.

"They can't help you now."

His eyes flashed black.

And you felt something very hard smash into the back of your head.