Chapter Two

wc: 2666 TW: mention of violence and death

Willow Springs Coffee Shop (Port Angeles, WA); 1:12 PM

"Thanks for meeting me here, Erik. I know it was a super long drive, and I'm assuming that you're not in the least surprised that I asked you to come."

  I'm sitting in a small coffee shop with my friend, Erik Lawson. He's a hunter, but he's also a drag queen, which is an interesting combination. I thought that it'd be a good idea for him to help out since he knows a lot about makeup and fashion and whatnot. He's also a Twilight fanatic, and since I dug deep to find this case, he wouldn't have been able to find it on his own as he lives further away. When I told him everything on the phone, I could feel his excitement. Excitement to be able to help out and visit places from the movies, which is kind of absurd. I mean, we're here to kill something.

"No, not at all. You used to invite me to hunts all the time. This is just- this is so... this is really cool. Like super cool. Even if it's just a shifter, like you said, I mean. It looks like Jacob? That's crazy. Have you talked to that Litchfield girl? The one that survived?"

"Nope. Not yet. I was hoping you'd come with me, ask deeper questions. Since you're clearly an expert on Twilight."

"Oh, definitely. I even have some of Bella's outfits, or ones that are similar to hers, even though they're super ugly. Hopefully this thing will want to go for what looks like the real Bella even more than someone that just looks like a cheap dollar-store knockoff. Obviously I don't look like her, though, but it'll be fine. I do have another question, though. I've been thinking about this a lot. Why would Jacob attack Bella? Did he become vengeful after realizing that his love for her was unrequited? Murder sprouting from rejection?" Erik starts going on and on, rambling off ideas and theories. He forgets that this is real life, not part of the series. I honestly don't know much about what he's saying, but I decide to sit, listen, and sip my hot chocolate. 

"What if it's just Taylor Lautner killing people." He says with a straight face. The steam rises from the cup in his hand, tickling his nose. He continues to stare at me, as if awaiting a legitimate answer.

  I suddenly start choking on my own drink.

Downtime Motel (Port Angeles, WA); 4:49 PM

"Erik, this is Castiel. Cas, this is Erik Lawson."

  I'd called Cas right as we entered the car, after leaving the quaint little coffee joint.  I thought that it'd be time to introduce him to Erik, seeing as the Winchesters don't really know too many hunters our age. I know that they know Jody, her kids, Donna, Bobby, and Garth. They aren't exactly around our age. Well, maybe Garth is. I'm not sure on that one. We set off for the cheap motel we were staying at, the Downtime Motel. I'll admit, Erik, the name is kinda crappy.

  The lady in the motel's office was horrible, and what was worse was that she had a little bowl of caramels that were all melted together into one big blob complete with wrappers. The room we were able to get has two queen-sized beds (one of which I'm currently sitting on), a bathroom, and a living area. The only thing in the 'kitchen' is a microwave and some counters. I don't trust this place, not at all, so I keep my phone on me instead of setting it down somewhere. Who knows what could happen.

  Cas kind of just awkwardly stands in front of the door, and he'd still be in the middle of the door frame, half outside, if I hadn't told him to close the door behind him. Sometimes he can be so clueless, but surprisingly not in a dumb way. He's just... different. 

 He came dressed in his usual attire, that trench coat. The same trench coat, not even a new one, or a cleaner one. I'm not one to judge, but I'm almost entirely sure that he's been wearing the same exact one for years on end.

  Erik's sitting next to me, trying to contain his laughter as he shows me pictures on his phone. I take it out of his hand, and he stops giggling as I introduce him to Cas. I can tell he's mildly irritated with me for taking his phone, but he decides not to fight me on it now.

"Hey. Hi. Nice to meet you." Erik says. He's heard a lot about Castiel from me. All good things, of course. Sometimes, even, dare I say-- gossip.

"Hello, Erik. You have a very... nice name."

"Cas, you know you can come over, right? Like, over here. You don't have to stand there," I say, gesturing at the bed across from Erik and I. "Let us run you through everything. Unless Sam's already told you."

"Yes, he's already explained this case to me. It seems quite interesting, to say the least. But somehow, I fail to see how my help is required..?" He tilts his head to the left, and all I can think of is a very cute puppy with a slightly confused expression.

"Oh, for the most part I just wanted to introduce you to Erik, really. He's my best friend. One of my best friends. And we might actually be in need of assistance. This whole thing seems so easy. And strange. I really wanna get to the bottom of it. Can you come with us to interview the survivor of the attack? We have about a day and a half left, something along those lines, to compile knowledge and stop this thing before it kills again. I know it's a lot, and it's okay if you're busy with whatever's going on, y'know, up there." I honestly have no idea what Cas even does these days, but I think he's been doing something up in Heaven. It's hard to tell since he never talks about it. The whole thing's an enigma.

"I apologize, but I do have a busy schedule. If you need something serious, call me. Or pray. Either works."

"Thanks, Cas. Love you."

"I'll... see you two later. Erik." He nods his head in our direction before turning to open the door. I don't know if he flew here or teleported or something, but once he's gone, I toss Erik his phone back. He doesn't look too miffed anymore.

"So? What do you think?"

"About..?"

"Cas, you idiot," I grab a pillow from behind us and smack him over the head. "Are you listening to me? Or are you just reading about random serial killers on Wikipedia."

"Close. Not a serial killer. The Unabomber. But the guy was nice. He seemed kind of stiff, though. I saw him for a total of two minutes and somehow I know that he needs to loosen up a little."

"There's just a lot going on with him. Whatever that may be. Anyways, let's go see the girl. Honestly, we should have done this sooner. Kind of wasted time since Cas isn't going to help out. Not really. The girl might have been discharged from the hospital, we'll just have to go and see to find out. It's about an hour drive, so bring something to do."

Inland Hospital (Forks, WA); 5:23 PM

We walk into the hospital, flash our fake badges at the receptionist, and are immediately pointed in the right direction. I'm always surprised how well this whole thing works, but the Winchesters did get the badges for me (and they've been wanted by the actual FBI. Multiple times.) We're posing as insurance agents today. Who knows what it'll be tomorrow.

Erik and I are alone, standing in front of a door. Room 291, to be exact. I take a deep breath, straighten my suit, and slowly crack open the door. Erik stands behind me, not making a sound, just waiting to see if it's the right room.

"Hello? Ms. Litchfield?"

I completely open the door after seeing her lying in the hospital bed. I wasn't able to get a hold of a complete list of her injuries, or how exactly she was attacked, but she clearly has a neck brace on. When she sits up and is engulfed by the evening light streaming through the windows, I can see that she has bruises on her face as well. I start to walk up beside her when I spot a chair in the corner, next to the windows. I take a seat there instead.

"We're from the insurance company. Your parents said that you were involved in their insurance plan. We're just here to ask some questions about the night of the incident." I flash my badge, and gesture to Erik to do the same. The girl lets out a long sigh before looking me in the eyes. She seems tired, weary. I feel a little bad for her.

"Just call me Mandy. Everyone calls me that. Well, it's my name. That's why. Listen, I've told this story to about a million people, and they all think I'm nuts. You're from the insurance company? Fine." She tries to take another deep breath before continuing, but it's clear that she's in pain.

"This stupid town ruined my life," She drops, then hesitates. I nod for her to continue. "Okay. I was at this low-key bar at the edge of town, since they know who I am at the central pub, right? I'm 17. They just let me right on in there. Gave me whatever I was willing to pay for, all in cash. I might have had too much to drink, and I ended up stumbling out and tossing cookies near the side of the building. Everyone's saying that what I saw was a hallucination since I was drunk, and that I fell down a hill or something afterwards and somehow don't remember. But I know that it was real. I stood outside for a few minutes, trying to regain my strength to be able to call an Uber or a Lyft to get me back home. Then I saw it. Or, him. I was just standing on the side of the road, right outside the bar, and he was across the street. In the dark, in front of the trees. Just staring at me, watching me. I couldn't believe it at first. I'm not gonna lie, I hated Twilight. Now, even more. People from all over, tourists (mostly middle-aged white women), just come here to take pictures at Bella's house or whatever. They crowd local restaurants and stores, and I'm beyond sick of it. So, as drunk as I was, I decided to fight the guy. Like literally try to attack him."

"Okay... got it. And what did he do?" I'm taking mental notes as this peculiar story unfolds.

"More like what did he not do. He killed all those other girls, why not finish me off?" She demanded.

"Mandy, what did you do right before you attempted to attack him? Tell me everything. Every detail helps." Erik asks, leaning against the door. He squints his eyes slightly, and I can tell that he's really focusing. I honestly didn't understand where he was going with that question, but then it sort of clicked in my mind.

"Uh. I tied my hair back with the ponytail holder I had on my wrist. Then... let's see. Dropped my purse. Got ready to kick him in the crotch."

"And where's your purse? Do you mind if I take a look? If it's not too much trouble." I ask, wondering if werewolves have junk. You'd think that I'd know by now.

"It should be behind the curtain on the windowsill. And... sure. I guess." She leans back onto the bed, and, again, it seems to take a lot of effort.

I push the curtain back slightly, as it was almost completely drawn back before I ever reached for it. I find a small, brown bag sitting in the corner. It's certainly ugly. I drop it into my lap and begin sorting through the contents inside.

What I'm searching for isn't there. No key chain. No tiny, plastic, knock-off dream catcher attached to a metal ring.

"Did you have- and this may sound like a strange question- did you have a miniature dream catcher on here?"

"Oh. Is it not there? It must have fallen off. What a shame." She answers, straight-faced.

"You didn't... like it?"

"My friend gave it to me. It's a replica of the one Jacob gave Bella from the movies or something. I didn't want to be rude and just throw it away when she gave it to me, though. I guess now I have an excuse to not carry it around with me." I decide that we're pretty much done for now. The amount of light outside reminds me how late it is.

"Alright. Thank you for your time, Mandy. We'll be sure to reach out if we have any further questions." Erik and I head for the door. On our way out, I hear Mandy mumble the words, "Insurance company... yeah... sure."

  She seemed convinced enough, at least while we were in there, and that's all that matters.

  As we open the creaking doors to my bright, blue 68' Dodge Charger in the parking lot, I process the information we've received. The more I think about the case as a whole, the more I think that it's something different. Other than a shapeshifter. And that's what worries me. It's a strangely off feeling, and I never get those on a hunt. Or, I didn't use to.

  I get comfortable in the driver's seat and start up the engine before I start talking.

"We should think about other possible creatures or deities. Like, maybe something no one's ever seen before. Because shifters aren't known to copycat other shifters, which is what I'm getting from this. Sam and Dean had a case during Oktoberfest one year, and the shifter took on the roles of big-time movie characters. Sounds similar to this, no?. I think it's something bigger. I mean, every four days, too? Four could mean anything. Dude, four is the number of the cross. Like the Bible. Lazarus was in the tomb for four days. An angel appeared to Joseph in a dream four times. Supposedly. I should ask Cas about that one..."

"Can you calm down, Row? It's not the end of the world. It injured five people, remember? Sure, maybe it killed four, but that's one break in the pattern. If it isn't a shifter, we need to do more research, and we don't have a lot of time for that. Let's just get your angel friend down here to kill it quickly. I know I was excited to work on this at first, but this is kinda getting out of hand. I mean, you're really stressing me out right now." Erik announced, his head falling into his hands, his elbows on his knees.

  I'm still rambling on about fours, and I'm surprised that my head hasn't dropped and smacked the steering wheel yet because of how tired I am. I've barely slept because of this entire thing. While we're driving back to the motel in Port Angeles, I have time to think.

  Everything has been stressing me out, which stresses Erik out, and I realize that I clearly jumped the gun on this one. It's too early to get back in the game with something as seemingly big as this. I don't want to tell Sam and Dean because they might think I'm not equipped to handle it. Or they might not even want to drive all the way out. Anything could happen.

  Except, that's exactly what I did. I asked.

Author's Note

I realize that something's going on with the places/times titles and unfortunately I'm not able to fix it