Without A Trace >> Dean Winchester

03 | Born to Kick Assbutts

Chapter 03 | Born to Kick Assbutts

THE GRASSES OUTSIDE were well trimmed, like it was being kept neat professionally. The dainty house before me looked well kept. Each turn I took—not a single speck of dirt in sight. The big loophole, however, was the little porcelain gnomes sitting on the front yard. Its eyes are damn disturbing, because there are no whites in the eyes. Just whole black, like a demon's.

They're staring into my soul.

I was completely fired up to knock down the gnomes with a kick when I remembered it wasn't my house. Suddenly, the door creaks open after a few moments to reveal an old woman in her 60's with a big shawl draped around her shoulders. Her wrinkly fingers are clutching into the said shawl, her thick-rimmed glasses prevent me from seeing her eyes clearly.

"What can I do for you, officer?" Is she afraid of me? Because her voice wavered there for a minute.

"Good afternoon, I'm Special Agent Johnson, and I just need you to answer a few questions about your granddaughter, Ali Smiths."

"Oh..." She wearily nods and leads me inside to a dainty dining room. She motions for me to take a seat and immediately bombarded me with questions, "would you like some tea, honey? Cookies? I can make some of my turkey sandwiches for you; you must be starving,"

I chuckle, "No thank you, just water, please."

"That won't do!" She protests. "It's a cold outside and it's snack time, to boot!"

Snack time? What is this, a preschool?
I'm at a loss of words and I don't know what to say. Why is she being so kind to me? I'm just an officer. Well, a fake one. Yes we've been through that. Blah blah blah.

I guess she's the cookie-baking, scarf-knitting type of grandma, then.

She blushed, looking at my gawking state. Her eyes trail down to her lap and turns silent, which seemed to contrast her bubbly demeanour "I'm sorry, it's just that Ali and I never got to bond after she got busy with her song records..."

"I'm very sorry about your loss, ma'am. I know it must be hard, but please allow me to execute some of our routine questions; could you tell me more about how she got into the music industry so suddenly?"

Her grip on the handkerchief tightens, the silky cloth now wrinkled. "She is- was, rather, just a simple 'youtuber' who does covers of artists. She didn't feel exactly contented with the little number of followers she had. But one night, she came home to discover that her videos went viral; booming with views. It was incredible, agent! She was flooded with invitations for interviews and contracts a week or two after. We were very happy, you know?" Her voice trembles, "We thought that it was her chance; her time! We were very lonely with her having no parents and with my husband passed away. She was my only granddaughter. I actually never even questioned her with the sudden success of her YouTube videos."

"I-I.." she bursts out crying and I find myself patting her arm gently, a sympathetic smile on my face, "It's okay, ma'am. Take your time."

"Ali was very kind to not forget about her old, weak grandmother and she brought twice the amount of food we usually have to our dining table, and paying the bills didn't become much a problem anymore. It was, without a doubt, the best month we ever had. A few weeks later, when I came home from my sorority, I f-found her dead. Her stomach was spilt everywhere!"

She paused, and there was a sudden fiery look in her eyes "God took her away from me."

x x x

Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean, Sam and Dean.

Those two names fit each other perfectly. Like they were made and born for each other to kick ass and save the world. Definitely names that sound like a dynamic duo. No, I KNOW I've heard of them before. It's at the tip of my tongue already, but I can't point it out. They're brothers, to add. They're so idiotic- they accused me of being a demon! Imagine me being a demon—soulless, ruthless, and a follower of that son of a bitch, Crowley. What a laugh.

Forget it, that's in the past anyway. They'll learn not to mess with me.

Slumping on the motel bed, i allow my weight to  press down the soft mattresses as I let out a sigh I didn't know I was holding. Going to the victim's house was exhausting, especially after the grandma insisting on me eating I quote, her "Grandma's Special Turkey Sandwich". But her love was so heart-warming. I never got to meet my grandparents before and after mom and dad were killed. I longed for the love of a mom and dad, and being treated with this kind of affection is all so new.

Worming my way through research, I finally know what creature is causing this chaos; Hellhounds. Oh, those loveable pets of Crowley!

Crossroad demons are tasked with "buying" souls for Hell through deals with humans. The deals consist of the demon granting the human's wish in exchange of ownership over that person's soul, resulting in the person dying and going to hell to be transformed into a demon upon death. After the agreed time of the deal, Crowley sends his hellhounds to collect the soul. But the hellhound doesn't exactly collects the soul in a gentle manner. Hence, the torn bodies.

Ali Smiths must have craved for the desire to be successful, resulting to making a deal with a demon. Do you see what lengths human exceed to satisfy their fleshy desires? Bless that poor grandma.

According to the lore, they could be killed with an Angel Blade and the Demon-killing knife, which I both conveniently have, thank god. The Colt could also be used, but is made by the legendary Samuel Colt, so bye bye to that idea. The Colt that could kill anything with just one shot of the specially-carved bullet. I know that, because my dad has always been searching for it in his earlier days like most hunters out there, but no such luck. But he's not just a hunter, he's also a prophet- which got him killed, obviously.

Scratch what I said about this being an easy kill. These hellhounds can only be seen by the victim himself/herself when the time comes. It could easily identify you, due to it picking up your scent when the deal was made. It has it for life and will never give up the hunt until one or the other one is dead.

What could possible make me see the hellhounds to make the killing easier. But with what? I let out the ten thousandth sigh today, knowing too well I've hit another bottom rock. I carry myself out of bed and start hitting the books once again. And this scene just seems all so familiar.

x x x