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cloudy-coyote · 3 years

Text

Necessity

(A/N): Hi! It’s been a while. Hope you like the chapter!! Leave a comment if you do (if you want to) image is not mine i found it on google. Also learned all my information about police procedure from tv lol so I’m sure it’s a bit inaccurate my apologies.

xoxo.

Ch. 6 Inconclusive

"Wait, are you guys going?"

"Well, we have a theory," Sam answers.

He's at the couch, picking up his discarded jacket. Dean doing the same.

"A theory?" She repeats.

"If we're right, we know where your necklace is."

Of course. That waitress must've taken it. Where else would've it gone? But, does that mean the necklace killed her? She feels a cold shiver run up her spine.

Even though the police radio said homicide, not animal attack, she's not an idiot. She can put two and two together. The necklace has to be the source of all this chaos.

Eva's nearly died 2 times. She thinks of Marlene in this exact moment. She visions her bright, blue eyes now lifeless. The idea that that could've been her—Eva, dead on the ground. The thought deepens in the pit of her stomach. It slithers down her throat and makes her nauseous.

She looks to Sam. His large hands unlock a little metal box. He shuffles around in the masses of what looks like ID cards.

She looks to Dean. She sees his cold eyes trained on the disengaged pistol in his hands, loading it.

And then she finally looks to the room. She observes the same mess of papers scattered around. But she also notices nothing else. No guns, no other people.

She'd be dammed if she didn't go with them. What's she gonna do all by herself? Sit and drown in silence? She knows for a fact that the moment she's alone, there will be nothing to stop the fears, thoughts, doubts and miserable heartbreak from flooding her mind. Not to mention, she'd be dead meat if she was attacked again. Screw the aching bones and pulsing wounds.

"Here we go," She grumbles to herself as she rotates her body to the end of the bed.

Slowly, and very reluctantly, she lowers her legs to the ground.

"Woah woah woah," Dean puts a hand out, halting her in place.

His green eyes were aimed straight at hers. The look emitting almost a parental scold.

"And where do you think you're going, missy?"

She narrows her eyes. She knows what he's trying to say, and she doesn't want to have it. "Umm...with you guys?" Her voice drips with sarcasm.

"Oh, I don't think so," Dean laughs, "Take a look at yourself."

"What exactly am I looking for?"

"I don't know, maybe the fact that you're crippled...or that you're frickin' kid,"

"First of all, I'm 18. Second, I'm fine. "

"Oh really? Why don't we just toss you out the car and see how fast you can run with those broken legs?"

The tips of her ears turn a furious red. She does not have the energy to put up with this after what she's been through all night---or actually, all day.

These last 24 hours she's been through hell and he wants to leave her here? Are you kidding me? Does this man only think for himself? I mean, it's not like she's asking to run in guns blazing fighting whatever type of monsters they fight. She just doesn't want to be by herself!

The elder Winchester holds his ground. His face was slightly entertained due to her silence. He took it as a win. She wanted to smack his stupid confident smirk right off. But, she couldn't for the life of her, calm down and come up with a smart retaliation. The only thing she could think about was his bullish ignorance.

"Uh-Dean," Sam cuts in.

Both Eva's and his brother's eyes reluctantly glance toward him. He stands by the coffee table, gently cleaning out his own pistol and loading it.

"Just a few minutes ago she was on our asses for leaving her at the hospital. Just a suggestion, but maybe we should take her with us?"

"You're not even wearing your fed suits. I wouldn't look out of place!" She adds desperately.

"Sweetheart, you're not goin' anywhere outside these motel walls, capeesh? "

"No! No capeesh," She exclaims, "She has my necklace, I deserve to go. I mean, this is my life we're talking about here! That--that could've been me on the police scanner."

"Exactly! That's why you're staying here, where it's safe."

"No, I'm staying with you two, where it's actually safe."

"Well, sweetheart, doesn't really sound like you're asking," His voice a dangerous tone, his eyes narrowing.

"Never was, sweetheart." She spits back.

Just as Dean takes a threatening step closer to her. About to hand her ass to her, and then some. Sam jumps up from the table.

"Listen, Eva, it's fine. You're coming with us, just stay in the car, okay?" His hazel eyes connect with hers. She nods at his offer, happy with his understanding.

He turns to his brother.

"And really, Dean? Arguing with a teenager?"

"She started it!"

"Right, and I'm the kid."

Dean's hand turns the keys and the soft hum of the Impala shuts off. Sam gives his brother an I.D, Sturon Hometech Security. He's quick to stick it in his wallet.

Eva looks out the window as the boys begin to discuss some details. It was a fairly long drive here. So by the time they arrived, there was a multitude of civilians piled around the street. They were held off by officers and police tape of course, but she could hear the nervous chatter from inside the car.

She saw that the street was eerily dark. The only illumination coming from the blue and red flashers. You could see little dots of yellow in the horizon of porch lights being flicked on, a single lightbulb brightening up the patio. This incident seemed to have shocked the neighborhood for sure, she could tell that much.

The cold, night air blows harshly against the glass windows. And despite there being nothing open, with the car off she begins to feel a chill.

"-You think you could turn the car on for me?"

Sam pauses, mid-sentence. He clenches his jaw and lowers his gaze toward Eva.

They didn't know what to expect walking in there. Everything from this case is becoming less and less predictable. And realistically speaking, it's becoming less and less 'huntable'.

He'd hate to say it, but his fears of dying are weighing out his usual feelings of compassion for helping victims. Not to mention, neither he or Dean know what the hell is going on with these "psychic visions". Or why this Demon came after all the children like him. To say the least...he's on edge.

Sam answers before even giving Dean the opportunity to open his mouth.

"Sure," He turns back to the girl. His eyes were stern and his tone was short, "Stay in the car."

The last thing he needs right now is for her to be wandering around. Her life is important, of course, like any other human's. But her relevance to solving this case... that's much more critical. They lose her, they lose any chance of ganking this thing. With a harsh tug of his hair, he takes in a deep breath and leaves the car.

He's...tense, she thinks to herself.

She nods slowly to Dean, indicating she'll stay inside. Dean turns the engine on and leaves the car without a word. The abrasive shut of the door stinging loud in her ears.

She releases a big sigh, welcoming the overwhelming scent of leather, "Silence, again."

As soon as the boys leave the Impala, they're met with the cool, midnight wind.

"So, what were you saying?" Dean looks to his brother. They make their way towards the crowd and blaring police lights.

He clears his throat, "Earlier, I was looking into local missing persons and I read about this guy named Viktor Judoc,"

"He went missing on April 5th, 1994. Which at the time I didn't think anything of it until I realized that was the same day Eva was attacked, only a whole different year,"

"And get this," he reached into his pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper, "He was a professor at Bartley University, last seen in the history building during a heavy storm."

"Well, it sure does match up."

"Also, Eva said there was no record of her family or herself existing here. I think that professor might be our only overlap."

"Whether or not he is, it's some type of lead."

"Yeah, I hope so."

"Sammy with a guy named Viktor, we're bound to find out some nasty business," Dean snorts. He looks back again to his brother and sees him sigh heavily.

"Look, we'll figure this out, okay?"

"Yeah," Sam laughs dryly.

The absurdity of not only the Demon but, now with Eva, it's seeming hopeless at this point, "Don't make promises you can't keep."

They approach the cluttered townspeople. All gossiping and whispering their fears.

"Did you know her?" He hears one woman mutter to a young man. Dean weaves through the crowd, Sam not far behind him.

"Pretty damn well, I'd say. Considering I'm her boyfriend."

Sam turns his head swiftly. Looking for the man's face. Her boyfriend?

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the older lady frowns, "Why aren't you up there talking to the police?"

Sam's eyes land on him. He notices his coal-black hair sat in natural curls. He sees a great, big tattoo on his neck. But, due to the night sky, he can't really tell what the design is.

"I will...soon. I just don't think I can right now," he mumbles.

The older woman nods in sympathy. But, Sam's gaze flies to something else. The man's hand nervously hovering over his hip, like to keep checking for something. He sees his body shift for a moment and in the darkness, he can just barely see the outline of what looks like a gun.

"--C'mon, we need to get in there," Dean's voice startles him causing him to jump a little. He looks to his brother and then to the police tape only a couple of feet from them.

"Why do you look so spooked?" Dean asks.

"Well, I just overheard Marlene's boyfriend talking..." He turns his head, pointing Dean in the direction before noticing—he's gone. Sam quickly searched the pool of strangers, looking for a black-haired, tatted-up man. But, he couldn't find him. He'd run out of there pretty damn fast.

"He's gone..." Sam mumbles.

"Well didn't you say he was just here? He couldn't have gone that far."

"Yeah, well, he also seemed pretty hesitant to talk to the police,"

"We'll pin him down later. C'mon," He motions toward the house.

"Dean, he had a gun, and he looked off."

"Well he's gone now, there's not much we can do," Dean nudges Sam's shoulder, "Now, c'mon."

They weave through the crowd a bit more. Making their way up to the tape that everyone is being kept behind and nod to an officer.

"Sorry boys, can't let you though," The man clicks his tongue.

"We're actually apart of the alarm company Ms. Woods had set up in her home," The both of them casually flip their I.D's.

"Yeah? Well damn good job you guys did, those alarms never went off."

"Yes, we heard," Sam eyes the house in the distance. It's swarmed with forensics teams, the local coroner, and many officers, "We were sent here to come identify the error, so we can make sure this won't happen to anyone else."

The officer nods, slightly tugging his lip up in distaste. He reluctantly pulls up the tape for them to pass.

"Thank you, officer."

They walk under and through. Making their way toward Marlene's home.

~~~

Eva's eyes are glued to the scene. The car was parked a bit far down the street, so everything was blurred together. But, she couldn't pull herself away. She followed Sam and Dean's footsteps as long as she could until their bodies got lost in the crowd. Occasionally she could see their faces pop up in the sea of heads, but...then she'd lost them.

She'd notice a few bystanders walk back to their homes in various directions. Or sometimes see more people flood into the street.

But, one man, in particular, caught her eye. She saw him slip away from the crowd-- he didn't seem to be heading towards any of the houses. No... he started speeding down the sidewalk away from the scene, constantly checking behind him. His behavior put her off so much that she felt she had to watch him. The paranoid glancing back and forth was something she was all too familiar with.

But then she realized, he was making his way straight in the direction of the car. His figure kept getting closer and closer. His nervous eyes quickly peering into the cars he passed. Shit, he's going to see me.

Despite her aching body, she's fast to get on the floor. Crouching low enough she could smell the rubber of the ground padding. At his alarmingly fast walking pace, she sees his shadow approaching the car. He stays on the sidewalk because it seems as if he's only checking the cars to make sure no one sees him.

Then she remembers... the car is running. How could I forget that? Jesus!

He's only a second away, he most likely noticed that the car was on already. But, she prayed he was too caught up in his head that he hadn't seen it yet. She swiftly crawls over the front seat. Her torso screaming in pain as it bears most of her weight. Her hand flies to the key and shuts it off. The interior of the car going pitch black and the hum of the engine falling to a rest.

She holds her breath. Now able to hear the hasty, stressed footsteps from the sidewalk—loud and clear.

For a moment she hears him hover. His frantic feet pause and he stares deeply into the window. Her stomach in her throat, she prays that he can't see her.

And as if she had a little angel on her shoulder, the man stepped away. She hears him shuffle around for a second...and then continues walking down the street.

She breathes out heavily. Now letting her lungs catch up to her racing heart. She decides she'll still wait a few moments. At least until she can no longer hear his footsteps. When it seems like he's far enough away, she tries to sit up.

She lets out a great, big breath of relief and slumps into the leather seat. Since she had to crawl over, she now gets a clear view through the windshield.

As she begins to settle into the comfort of the driver's seat, she entertains herself with staring up to the moonlit sky. With all the mayhem that she's encountered for the last 24 or more hours, it wouldn't hurt to take a load off-- relax for just one minute,

Ring!

She jolts up.

Ring!

She hears it again and shuffles around in the seat, trying to see where the sound was coming from. The ringing was almost muffled like it was beneath something. She opens the glove box and sees an old, silver flip-phone light up. She looks to the I.D number and it reads,

Dad.

~~~

"You two from the alarm company?" A detective asks. He has pale, blue eyes and short, chestnut hair. He was around his mid 40's and had a deep raspy voice.

"Yes, sir," Sam answers.

He drinks up the environment around him. Most of the house was in pristine condition. There was no mess, no fallen lamps or pictures, almost like there was no foul play. This realization sent shivers down his spine. It had to have been the necklace, he thinks.

"Do what you gotta' do, just don't get in any of my officer's way," He eyes them both up and down, his blue gaze colder than the night air, "Are we understood, boys?"

"Yes, sir. You'll be getting no problems from us, Detective...?"

"Murke, Detective Murke," He holds out his hand in a polite gesture. Both Sam and Dean shake it, half-smiling back.

A younger, much kinder-looking officer runs up to the detective. He nervously taps his shoulder. And when he whispers something in his ear, he frowns— a perplexed look on his face.

Dean waves him goodbye silently. He and Sam turn and walk towards the kitchen, where the back door is.

They make their way through the forensic photographers, through the policeman swabbing and sweeping the house for any DNA. Once they reach the kitchen they notice the scene.

They don't stare long. Not wanting to be deemed suspicious, they casually walk towards the alarm system set up by the back door.

"—Well that's just it, isn't it?" An old man's voice hollers. He's hunched over the young woman's body wearing a jacket marked 'Coroner'.

The Winchester's eye the scene. They see Marlene. She's lifeless. They've seen many dead bodies in their day, but it was an oddly unsettling encounter they could never get used to. Her skin was turning a bit grey and there was a swamp of blood around her body. They could make out the wound— what looks like to be a stabbing.

"Huh," Sam whispers.

"Yeah, I don't remember weapons being apart of this thing's M.O."

"—With no sign of forced entry, it's not that shocking to me," A particularly bulky, female police officer comments.

"Yeah, the knife's right there. It just doesn't look like a homicide," Another one adds.

Sam's eyes look to the ground near Marlene. His stomach twists when he sees her empty eyes again, but he quickly diverts his gaze. He looks in the pool of blood, and there lay a kitchen knife. But, it's when he looks to her hand—he sees none other than that uncanny, silver chain.

"Found the necklace," Sam murmurs. He nods subtly towards the girl, Dean's eyes landing on her hand.

"Well, that's weird."

"What do you mean?"

Dean shifts awkwardly. He takes a casual look around the two of them, making sure no one was catching on to them.

"She's not wearing it. I mean, what made her take it off?"

Sam sighs, "I don't know, maybe she never put it on?"

"Or, she put it on. But, the moment she took it off, she bit the dust."

"—No! Don't you hear a word I'm saying? Jeez, what is it with you, bush leaguers?" The old man wails.

"What? You seriously think someone had the key to her place, stabbed her, left no prints, and took nothing?"

"Yeah, not to question you, Warren, but it's a single stab wound. It doesn't look like a crime of passion, it looks self-inflicted," Another chimes in.

"Why don't you two shut up for a minute while I explain it to you, hm? I'll put it simply so maybe you can understand."

Sam notices he's beginning to feel a bit dizzy, his hand flying up to his head.

"You good?" Dean whispers.

His little brother grimaces, feeling as if all the blood in his body is flushing from his brain to his toes, "Yeah...uh, I don't know."

"It's been a while since we've eaten, just try and hold it together," He nods assuringly.

The coroner stands up with a heavy grunt pulling Sam and Dean's attention away. Still wearing his rubber gloves, he swings open a drawer. Lazily grabbing another knife, he positions it over his body.

"If I was going to stab myself, tell me...where would I do it?"

The female officer rolls her eyes, "In the stomach."

"Right," He rotates to his side, so they can see his profile. The tip of the blade held right to his torso, "Now tell me what angle I'm holding the knife at right now."

It was at that moment that everything seemed to click in their heads. The interns looking down in embarrassment. He takes their silence as confirmation to continue.

"Nearly straight, but downwards, right?" He asks rhetorically. They all nod feverishly. He places the knife back into the drawer and squats back down to the body.

"So, tell me how this woman killed herself when the angle of the wound is directly upwards? It's impossible to achieve a self-inflicted wound of this inclination."

"That means... that we have a very smart killer on the loose," The female officer says, her voice laced with concern, "There's no prints, no evidence left tying the attacker to themself."

"Someone better go tell Murke,"

Sam and Dean both look to each other. There was a clear worry in both of their eyes. Just another god damn thing to add to the list of reasons why this case makes no sense. Not to mention, now they're going to have the police sniffing around for a killer.

Sam pulls out a black bag from his jacket, unzipping it. He reveals some small tools and screwdrivers and begins to toy with the security system.

"Any ideas of how we're gonna get that necklace?" Sam whispers.

"Zilch."

They quickly quiet down when they see the head Detective enter the room. His blue eyes were narrowed as the Coroner began to fill him in.

"—We're going to need a profile," Murke comments as he circles Marlene's body, his eyes analyzing the room.

"Still no prints?" He asks. They all shake their heads.

"Detective, have you ever dealt with a guy like this in Willow?" An intern speaks up.

"Once."

Sam and Dean both look at each other, a knowing look in their eye. Sure, it could've been some random psycho—but if they're lucky, there is some type of connection here. There's a multitude of factors and crazy happenings but, possibly, they're related after all.

"—Wait a minute, I think I've got something here," The old Coroner interrupts.

All eyes fly to him as he remains crouched over the body. His latex-covered hands hovering over her neck. His fingers trail over the skin, finding a little bump.

"She seems to have something...uh, lodged in her throat," He turns to his case in search of a pair of forceps. He slowly extracts the object.

Sam's eyes bulge out of his head as he sees a tiny cloth. The man unwraps it to reveal satanic writing and a fragment of bone. Hex bag?

"God," A police officer comments, "What a sicko."

Dean mumbles to his brother, "Witches, after all."

Sam slowly lowers his hand to his pocket. His fingers sliding along his silver phone and peeking it out, taking a quick snap—keeping the device low to his hip. Hoping he got a good picture of the hex bag laying open...

"—Hey, you two," An officer startles them. They turn around, Sam hastily shoving his phone in his pocket without looking suspicious, "Are you done, yet? We need to know if this guy hacked this system or if she let him in."

"Oh," Sam clears his throat, gathering his thoughts. He didn't look much into the alarm, not that he knows much about the mechanism, anyway. But, its witches, right?

"She let 'em in," Dean answers.

"Is that right?" Detective Murke pops up behind them.

Sam nods accordingly and notices the multiple officers scribbling down the information.

"Well, then your work is done here, boys. I trust you can see yourselves out?" He raises his eyebrows.

Sam's eyes immediately fly to the necklace, still on the ground. They can't leave yet. They only have a matter of time before it's bagged as evidence. Then it will be physically impossible to get it.

"Uh-yes, sir," Sam answers.

Detective Murke turns away with a couple of officers, discussing in private. Forensic photographers began to make their rounds in the kitchen.

Sam casually zips up his black bag, murmuring to his brother, "What now?"

"Well, Sammy, right now this room's crawling with five-0. I don't really see us getting within 1 foot of that chain before getting booked."

He picks up the bag and begins to walk towards the front door. Sam hot on his tail.

"We can't just leave it," He whispers.

"Alright Einstein, what do you suggest?"

Sam sighs. He eyes the house around him, looking for any opportunity he can get. He had what—less than a minute to come up with a good plan before the photographers are finished in the kitchen, and the necklace is taken for good? His nerves were on fire and no matter where he looked or what he thought of, nothing worked.

"C'mon, we gotta leave it," Dean nudges.

"Fine. But, what about Eva?"

They continue to walk and their eyes reluctantly watch the kitchen scene as they pass.

"We'll figure it out, we always do."

Sam sees someone drop the dainty, silver chain into a plastic bag before handing it off to another officer. Chewing on his lip, he prays he didn't just let their only hope get taken from them right in front of their eyes.

When they take their first steps outside the house, the cold air whips them hard. Their ears are met with anxious chatter of the citizens.

Sam still feels that subtle ache from earlier, his head a tad dizzy.

"So," Dean fills the silence as they walk back to the car, "We got this Viktor shmuck, the boyfriend, and now some old case Murke worked on to look into,"

"Don't forget the witches." Sam means to flash a mocking smile-- but instead feels his head pulse with pain. What the hell?

"Ah, how could I forget the witches!" Dean grinds his teeth, "Gotta love witches."

He swings open the door to reveal Eva sitting up front.

"Witches?" She repeats.

Dean jerks his head to the side, his green eyes glaring.

"Oh," She looks down, realizing her location, "—Sorry."

Once she scrambles into the back seat, Dean drops onto the leather with a huff. Sam swings open his door and sits down. His fingers massaging his temples, a cramping expression on his face. Dean quickly glances over to him, them both eyeing each other and thinking the same thing, 'let this please not be another damn psychic vision.'

Then Dean takes a moment to recognize the cool air inside the car wasn't right—he had left it running.

"Why's the car off?"

"Uh-Some dude came toward the car and I was worried he was gonna see me. He looked pretty freaked out."

It explained why she was sitting up front, Dean thought.

"What'd this guy look like?" Sam asks.

"It was hard to tell, honestly...black hair, a tattoo maybe?"

Sam's head darts around to look at her, "Was he carrying a gun?"

"I don't know," She shakes her head, "All I remember was how paranoid he was. He was checking every car."

"Why, what is it?" She asks.

"I think that's Marlene's boyfriend. I saw him in the crowd, he disappeared pretty fast."

"And he has a gun? That's a charming thought," She snorts.

Dean turns the key and the engine roars. He takes off down the highway.

Her eyes wander back outside the window to the night sky. She tried to gather her thoughts, first, she hears witches, then she hears 'crazy guy with a gun', what's next? An angel in a prom dress?

"What the...?" Sam shifts in his seat awkwardly, like he was trying to get rid of a wedgie without using his hands. Eventually, amongst his shuffling around, he pulls out a phone from the seat.

"What's this burner doing here?" He directs to Eva. Oh, that's right. She'd completely forgotten.

"Oh...your Dad called."

Both of the boys' heads turn so fast they nearly snap off their bodies. Dean swerving the car a bit before being forced to look back at the road. Sam's eyes widen with surprise as he hastily glances at his brother then back to Eva.

"Did you answer it?" His hands fiddle with the phone.

"No," She responds nervously, "I didn't think you'd want me to..."

She was completely befuddled by their reaction, to say the least. Her voice was small and she had a million questions running through her head, but she wasn't entirely sure right now was the time to ask them. She continued to anxiously fidget with her hands awaiting any more information.

Sam's fingers finally dial him back. It's silent for a moment. The tension was so thick, you couldn't even cut it with a knife, you'd need an axe, surely. It was completely quiet except for the sound of the Impala cruising down the road, she could hear the soft rings of the phone.

"—Hello?"

"Dad," Sam smiles in disbelief.

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