Chapter 1: Part 1
I dodged a quick strike to my kidneys, trying to grab onto the hand that was holding a knife. I winced as the pain from the past stabs pierced through my body, losing more blood. I grabbed a rusty pipe, hitting my assignment in the head. I headed left reaching for my gun, sliding ono the filthy ground, dirt getting into my wounds. I grabbed my gun, shooting the assailant three times in the head. He dropped two feet in front of me, clearly dead.
I laid back, taking a moment to catch my breath and I winced, regretting it immediately. I touched the stab wounds, taking a moment to look at the blood before starting to get up. The fucker had gotten the jump on me when I got here, knocking my gun out of my hand in an instant. After a couple times not dodging fast enough I had had enough.
Slowly I got up from the floor, wanting to get out before the rest of his pack returned. I managed to make it to the door before I heard a collective of howels.
“Shit.” I muttered under my breath. I knew they couldn’t be in their wolf form, it wasn’t a full moon, unless this whole time I wasn’t hunting werewolves like I thought. I looked over at the corpse that was in the same room. “Were you a fucking shapeshifter? Or a skinwalker?”
It didn’t matter, I told myself, he and the pack he was with were killing people off if they didn’t agree to join them and become a skinwalker. I looked at my gun, knowing I had a decent amount of bullets left, but not enough to kill their whole back if they were here. I shut the door, hoping to blend in with the rest of the house long enough to make an escape. I crept over to the window, peeking out of it to see how screwed I was currently. The answer? Very screwed.
Outside there were at least twenty coyotes, all stalking the house. I tried to figure out my best option. I could run out the back, hoping they don’t notice, but if they did they would be on me in seconds. I looked around the room, trying to figure out a plan when I noticed that the dead body had a cell phone clip on his belt. I went over to the body, kneeling down and started to rummage through his pockets. I felt like I was in Skyrim.
One pocket contained a thousand in case, smaller bills, I shoved that in my jacket pocket, zipping it closed so I wouldn’t lose it. Chapstick, useless, another knife, eh you can’t ever have too many (stashed in my jacket pocket as well), and finally his phone.
I stood up from the body, turning the phone on. The screen was a little cracked but nothing I could work around that. I swiped the phone open, thankful there wasn’t a password. I immediately went to the keypad, and typed in a number by heart. I could only hope that he would answer.
“This is Dean.”
“Hey Dean, it’s Katherine.”
“Why the hell are you calling?”
“Yeah, nice to hear from you to.” I said with a bite in my voice. Dean and I had had a falling out a few years back, him insisting that I wasn’t cut out for this work, that I should just stay home where it was safe. We had been dating, and when your boss tells you don’t mix pleasure with work, take his advice. It was explosive. We yelled and argued before I stormed upstairs, packing my belongings, before leaving the bunker and never looked back.
“What the hell do you want?”
“I honestly need your help, you would be close to a small city in connecticut that has werewolf case in it.” Silence, telling me he was. “Well it's not werewolves, its uh.. Skinwalkers. And I may have killed one, and the rest of them might be outside as were speaking.”
“Fuck, why couldn’t you just-”
“Let's not talk about that right now. I only have one gun on me, enough to protect me but not enough-”
I stopped talking, my eyes moving to the door where I heard a noise. I heard Dean yelling into my ear, but I abruptly ended the call. Shutting the phone off quickly, sticking it in my back pocket and watched the door. The moonlight was enough to see the shadow under the door, some bipedal, quadrupedal. I tried to count them as they walked by but the shadows we muddied by so many of them. I held my breath as a shadow came to stop at the door and I saw a nose trying to sniff out if we were in there.
I let the breath go slowly as they kept moving. I was just about to thank the fates when I heard a shout outside. A shout that belonged to one Wichester in particular. Suddenly calling him wasn’t such a good idea. I watched as the amount of shadow passed by the door again, running towards the voice. Well, at least he was a good distraction. I walked over to the door and opened it, stepping out without checking my surroundings. Big Mistake.
I should have that saying tattooed on me like a tramp stamp. My mother had been a hunter, had one of her infamous one night stands, and gotten pregnant with me. I couldn’t count the amount of time that she had taken me on hunts, used me as bait, and then gotten drunk back at the hotel and told me how she wished she had aborted me. When I was eleven, I ran away. Stealing every last cent I could from that woman, taking a one way trip to the midwest and lived on the streets for years. Des Moines was a nice town, larger so I could blend in, but then I started to notice supernatural activity. I was fifteen when I killed my first werewolf.
Sense then I was constantly jumping into situations without thinking, trying to do the right thing, killing the bad, saving the good. However, this also caused me problems, such as now. I had just walked out into the hallway of the house, not checking to see if the coast was clear, and was now face to face with a very pissed off coyote. I let a shot go, hoping to scare it away, but no such luck. I backed up as cautiously as I could, one step for me equalling four for it. I heard yelling and shooting outside and I made a break for it. I thundered down the stairs, shooting two males in the chest as I ran, shoving them off the banister so I could keep going.
THe coyote was right behind, picking up it’s pace as I did. I shoulder checked another male, wincing as he jabbed my side where my wounds were. I turned just in time to shoot him in the head before noticing the coyote was right on me. It jumped, and I barely had time to register before it landed on me, knocking me back off the stairs and finally onto the first floor.
My head swam with pain, I wasn't sure what hurt worse: my head, my back, the stab wounds from earlier, or the face that the coyote was biting into my shoulder. Wait what?
I screamed in pain suddenly, pulling myself back to the present, trying to clear my head from the hit. When the coyote had jumped on me, it knocked my gun out of my hand. I had no weapon I could reach. I screamed again as the coyote pulled away, leaving the cold air to hit the new wound. I watched in horror as the coyote shifted into its human form.
“Oh, your a woman.” I said as I looked up and down the now naked woman who was on top of me. “That’s a twist, that’s very twisty.”
She grabbed my throat hard, her stiletto nails digging into the sides of my neck. I let out a strangled sound at that, her face covered in blood from my shoulder. I struggled to get the knife out of my pocket while she was focused on me.
“He was my husband.” She spat in my face. I shrugged, before flipping the knife open and stabbing her in the side. She screamed, Dean screamed and shot her, and then she fell over dead, on top of me.
I winced as her weight was just enough to remind me of all my wounds. I pulled the knife out, pushing her off me and to the side. I grabbed a piece of faded linen that was near me and drapped it over her body, trying to cover her. I heard Dean scoff behind me and I turned to him, glaring.
“Don’t you fucking start with me.” I said, going over to the dead bodies and pulled out anything that was useful. A couple thousand dollars richer I turned back to Dean who was suddenly very pale. “What’s wrong with you?”
“She bit you.”
I looked at my shoulder, realizing he was right. “Huh, would you look at that.” I said, touching it and hissing. “Well, thanks for the distraction boys.” I said, nodding at Dean, and Sam who was walking up behind him.
“Doesn’t this mean your going to turn into one?” Dean asked, not letting me past.
“Dean, thisn’t a werewolf case remember? This bite won't turn me.”
“Oh sense when do know more about monsters than me?” He sain in a huff.
“FIrst off, don’t pout. Your not a child and it’s super unattractive. Second, I have always hunted werewolves and shapeshifters. That is my specialty, like Gordons was vampires.”
Dean bristled at Gordons name. When Gordon had gone off the deep end, he had tried to use me against Dean and Sam, it hadn’t worked in his favor. He had a massive hole in his leg by the time I was out of there. That was the incident that had spawned the blow up between us, and me leaving.
“Thank you for distracting them.” I said, trying to keep the peace. “I was in a pickle, and you saved me.”
“Well maybe you shouldn’t be doing this job.” Dean said. I growled at him, glaring.
“I’m not having this conversation.”
I walked past him, pickpocketing on the way out, got into my old beat up truck, and left.
I checked into a new hotel, going into my room and dropped onto the bed. I pulled out all the items I had pickpocketed, dropping them on the bed before heading into the shower. I hissed as the water hit my body, warm relaxing muscles, washing away the blood. I used the hotels shampoo and conditioner, letting the dirt wash out of my long golden honey hair. I was careful of my wounds as I washed my body, getting a better look at them. Rolling around on the ground back at the house hadn’t done them any favors, and I knew I needed to clean them out fast.
Wrapping up my shower quickly I stepped out, checking out my shoulder and winced as I felt the adrenaline leave my body and the pain starts to set it. I didn’t even bother looking at my neck, knowing it was probably bruised to holy hell.
I wrapped a towel around myself and walked into the bedroom, not surprised to see Dean and Sam there.
“Don’t you have something better to do?” I asked, no venom in my voice, “Like, leaving town?”
“We could ask you the same thing.” Sam said, getting up and walking over to me, checking the wound in my shoulder. “I also remember you being terrible at patching yourself up. Let me help you.”
“I’m only saying yes because I’m no exhausted to patch myself up.” I said, getting a smile from the younger one. I quickly got dressed in a black tank top and matching panties, having to keep pants off as I had a wound on my leg. “Must have happened when she jumped on me.”
Sam set to work, closing up the whole that were all over my body, holding me still when he poured alcohol straight into my knife wounds. He dressed them appropriately before moving to my shoulder. Dean watch him the entire time, the TV being the only thing that broke the silence. Once Sam finished, he announced that he was using the shower, and disappeared into the bathroom.
I leaned against the wall that was against the bed, trying to get comfortable. MUch to my frustration, I couldn’t.
“Stop moving around,” I heard Dean said, “You’ll open your stitches.”
“We’ll I can’t find a good spot to sit.”
Dean huffed, getting up and walked over to me. He leaned me forward before sliding in behind me, holding me close. I wanted to protest but I was indeed very comfortable in that position. We didn’t speak, but it was a mutual agreement. For now, this was enough.