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Free Supernatural Fanfiction – Chapter Summary:

On her first investigation, Analina joins Dean to probe mysterious deaths. They uncover strange coins, pointing to a hex. Their hunt leads them to suspect a vengeful witch.

Rating: PG-13
Contains:  Thematic Content, Mild Language, Suspense/Mystery,No Explicit Content: Lacks graphic gore, explicit sexual content, or pervasive strong language.

CHAPTER NINE:  
Experience

TRUTHFULLY, IT DIDN’T TAKE too long to gain Dean’s trust back. He was right (and I would have to kill you if you told him that). I was inexperienced at that point. It could have cost us our lives. But just because I didn’t have the actual experience didn’t mean I didn’t have any idea what to do, I reasoned. Besides, everyone had to start somewhere.

OUR NEXT HUNT took us to Illinois. Dean and Sam got wind of two mysterious deaths. In the first case, a woman was fried under a hairdryer at a local salon. In the other case, a man was boiled to death in a hot tub. Sam went to talk to Wendy’s sister—Wendy was the woman burnt to a crisp at the salon. Dean took me to Josephine’s Hair Salon to check out the crime scene. This was the first time I went with him to investigate. He even gave me my own fake badge. However, I wished that he would have told me that he was taking the picture that ended up on there because it looked horrible.

I essentially had an easy part. I was to observe what they do, what questions they asked, and whatnot. We arrived at the salon. The hairstylist that had discovered Wendy was named Chris. We shook hands and showed him our badges. Dean introduced me (accurately) as a new trainee and promptly went into his work mode. Chris took us back to the room where it happened. He explained briefly that he had left her under the dryer. When he had come back, he found her dead.

“And nobody was back here but Wendy?” Dean asked, looking around.

I walked slowly in the back room. It still smelled like burnt flesh and hair. The dryer had remnants still attached. It was quite disgusting.

“No,” Chris answered, “but I was only gone for a minute.”

“You can’t even crank these things past a certain temperature—am I wrong?”

“If it started to blow a fuse or something, it would have shut down,” he agreed.

“Oh, basically you’re saying that this couldn’t have happened.”

“Basically, I’m saying it couldn’t have happened,” Chris confirmed.

Dean continued to look. I didn’t want to be right on top of him as he worked, but I watched as close as I dared. He looked behind the hairdryer.

“The insurance adjusters already did that,” Chris mentioned.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” Dean said slightly sarcastically.

Chris glanced at me, and I gave him a weak smile which said: yep, that’s the way he is. Dean noticed something and picked it up. He didn’t show it to Chris. He asked a few more questions which seemed routine, and then we left.

Once outside the salon, Dean showed me the odd-looking gold coin he found. We made our way back to the car while Dean called Sam.

“It’s not American. I don’t know where it’s from. It was wedged back behind one of those machines. Somebody could have dropped it. Of course, they don’t have pockets in those robe thingies that they make you wear.”

We passed by a bench with Wendy’s real estate picture on it. Dead flowers were to either side of it.

“Shut up. I observe with my eyes,” he said into the phone.

I barely contained the giggle. He glanced over at me, and I glanced away for a moment.

“Uh, maybe.” Pause. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Well?” I asked.

“It’s possibly some kind of hex.”

“So we’re dealing with witches?” I haven’t met one of those before.

“Probably,” he sighed.

“What?”

“I hate witches,” he mumbled.

Later we heard of another death. This one was at a construction site where a man was nailed to death in a port-a-potty. As before, a weird-looking coin was hidden there. After a little thinking and research, it was deduced that anyone connected to this one building project was being targeted—the real estate agent and the construction company.

Our next stop was to see the developer—Don Stark. Before arriving at the house, we got an email from Bobby about the coin. It was Romanian Cyrillic used in the mid-fifteenth to the nineteenth century. That was a start, but it didn’t explain why these people were killed.

The house was actually a mansion. The building outside had a bust of Don, and the flowers around that were all dead. Not a good sign, I thought. It was like the ones around Wendy’s advertisement on the bench. We made our way up to the door and gained entrance to the mansion.

Don Stark was a gentleman in his late forties. He was clean-shaven with touches of gray in his hair and wore a dark gray business-casual suit. He seemed comfortable enough talking to us. While we were talking to Don about the three victims that he was connected to, his secretary, Jenny, came by to say that she was leaving and had made cupcakes. Once she was gone, Don turned to us and explained, “She bakes cupcakes.”

Dean replied, “Yummy.”

After a moment, Sam excused himself to snoop around while Dean and I kept Don busy. We mostly asked him about business rivals. By the time Sam came back, we were discussing the pictures on his walls to buy some time. Sam started to ask him about his wife. Don said that they were separated but only temporarily due to a “little thing with a business associate.”

This logically led us to believe that the wife, Maggie, was hexing these people to get even with Don. Our next stop was to check out Maggie’s house. Dean decided to go in alone while Sam and I stayed outside as lookouts.

“So how is your first investigation going?” Sam asked as we waited.

“Not too bad,” I said. “Next time, I want a better picture. I thought only driver licenses and passports were supposed to be bad.”

He laughed.

A car pulled into the driveway. Maggie was home, and Dean was still in the house. I tried calling his cell, but a recorded voice said, “All circuits are busy.”

Telling this to Sam, he hurried over to Maggie. Maggie was slightly younger than Don. She wore a dark rain jacket and high stilettos. Her wavy light brown hair flapped in the wind as she got out of the car and headed towards her front door in a hurry.

“Mrs. Stark,” Sam called. He held up his badge. I just caught up but didn’t see the need to show her my badge. “Could I have a moment?”

“Of course. Umm, would you mind coming back in, say, a half an hour? It’s just really a bad time right now.”

“It’s very important that I talk to you,” Sam insisted.

“Of course, and I’m happy to. I’m just in the middle of an emergency, so please come back. Thank you!” She called over her shoulder and ran to her front door.

Sam glanced over at the car and pushed hard on it, setting off the alarm. Maggie turned around. Using the remote, she shut the alarm off. I noticed Dean peeking out of the second-floor window near the front of the house.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, shaking his leg. “Uh, restless leg syndrome.”

Maggie continued to the house, and I mouthed “restless leg syndrome” to Sam, who shrugged. We slowly made our way back to the car.

A few minutes later, Dean came walking briskly up to us. “Spoiler alert.”

He handed Sam a picture of the secretary and her library card.

“Jenny Klein’s next. Swiped her photo off a hex deck, but Maggie’s going to notice it’s gone eventually. We got to get over to Jenny’s.”

Image by ChatGPT and tweaked by Copilot

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