Receiving another cryptic set of coordinates from their father, Sam and Dean Winchester head to the Pacific Northwest where they're confronted by a different kind of werewolf, learn about a sparkly new type of vampire, and meet a girl who's fed up with all of it.
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Even in their quick, initial research, they hadn't found any unusual happenings or any particularly strange disappearances, although there had been more than usual. Many were attributed to animal attacks, but things like that did actually happen in places where there were hundreds of square miles of mountains…and pine trees.
It was why Sam had wanted to find a library, get his hands on their computers, and research the local lore. Dean was more than happy to let Sam at it. Research could be pretty damn boring, and Sam loved that word "lore."
Dean climbed out of the car, shrugged on his worn jean jacket against the damp chilly air, and looked down the road. Not seeing anything but more faded asphalt and trees, he turned in the opposite direction and squinted.
He'd been there fifteen minutes and a car hadn't even driven by. Mystified, he hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and leaned back against the hood.
In the distance, he heard the whine of a struggling engine and an exhaust system that had seen better days. "Midasize it" immediately came to mind. After another moment, he spotted a rusted old Chevy truck coming toward him from the south. He cocked his head, examining the vehicle. It wouldn't be a bad ride if it was cleaned up, painted, had the dents pulled out, and had a new engine put in it. A little TLC would work wonders.
He thought it was a 1953 or '54. Nice, solid vehicle.
As it chugged closer, he strained to see into the cab. Although it was cloudy, the glare on the windshield made it hard to tell, but he thought there was only one person.
The abused engine sounded like it was wheezing its last. As loud as it was, it didn't appear to be going too fast. On a hunch, he activated the home-made EMF sensor in his pocket and waited for the truck to pass. He was under some power lines, but he hoped the detector would still work since there weren't too many.
Dean really wasn't surprised when the truck began to slow down despite the engine noise winding higher and higher. The rusted old behemoth coughed, sputtered, died, and drifted to the side of the road. The sudden silence was a shock to his ears.
Inside the truck, someone let out a screeching wail. Dean could hear pounding and then the door flew open. A dark purple backpack was thrown out, and then a girl with long brown hair jumped to the gravel shoulder. She slammed the door shut and then kicked it. Snatching up the backpack, she hoisted it over her shoulder, looked quickly back down the road, and started moving toward him in a half-jog, half walk.
Dean checked the EMF detector. It hadn't alerted, so he shut it off, shoved it in his pocket, and started across the road.
The girl was crying and haphazardly brushing her hair out of her face. With the sleeve of the old blue-plaid flannel shirt she was wearing, she dragged her arm over her face, wiping away her tears.
Dean quickened his pace. "Hey. Hey, are you all right? What's the matter?"
Had the girl been attacked? There were bits of leaves and grass in her hair, and muddy stains on her jeans like she had fallen, or had been thrown down. Mud caked her hiking boots. The good news was she had all her clothes on and they didn't appear to be torn.
The girl jolted to a stop and her head snapped up as if she hadn't even been aware he was there. Wide brown eyes stared at him in shock, and her hand went to the side of her head, pulling her hair out of her face again.
"You…you have to run!" she shouted, gasping as if she was out of breath.