Burn It to the Ground

Maura's POV

I’ve never met any two men in my life that have had the ability to piss me and my sister off as much as those too. It was like they practiced in front of the mirror beforehand, to make sure everything was flawless, lest everyone involved leave in good spirits.

Kassia was pacing the floor, hands in her pockets, looking like she was trying not to look upset.
It was obvious that what had happened in the parking lot bothered her, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. I mean they were lying, that’s what people do.

“Just forget them, okay?”

I was going through my small duffel bag of clothes, eager to finally do a load of laundry since the place actually had the option, unlike a lot of places we’d stayed. “Got anything you need washed?” I asked “Think I’m going to make a run.” When I didn’t get a reply, I looked up to see her just shaking her head distractedly. “You’re not a freak, you know.” I offered for good measure, though I doubted that was really what had got to her. She just shook her head again. “C’mon, what’s wrong?” She grabbed her own duffel bag from its place in front of the door, turning sharply to make her way to the bathroom.

“Nothing, I’m fine. I’m going to grab a shower.” She called behind her, her tone very final, before immediately shutting the door with a thud.

I knew better than to push the subject further, I wasn’t that stupid. Tired yes, stupid no.

I threw myself backwards onto the cheap bed, momentarily wallowing in the alarmingly shiny comforter. The whole room seemed to be covered in gold tin-foil like material, reflecting what little light shone through the also tin-foil-like curtains until the whole room looked like it had its own personal sun. Saves energy I guess.

Even though it had been so many years, I still missed having an actual bed. I dreamed of having a queen sized bed adorned with a homemade quilt and little decorative pillows…The whole deal. A backyard, kitchen, dining room… Not to mention wallpaper that didn’t make me feel slightly queasy. I often wandered if I’d ever have any of those things, or if my sister would. She had no way of remembering having an actual home and it killed me that she might never know what it’s like.

The thing about being a hunter is, you can think about what you want to do or have in the future all you want but you know you might not live to see your next birthday. If the demons don’t kill you, the lifestyle will. It wasn’t glamorous, it wasn’t romantic, it was war.

But at the moment, it was naptime. I sprawled my arms out, closing my eyes and trying to fall asleep by sheer force of will. Sooner or late my sister would have to come out and when she did, we already had a place to start.

The Tumbleweed Bar.

All four victims were regulars. Robert West, Sheila Thomas, Ross Butler and Laura Lovegood. All killed exactly one week apart from each other, all regulars, all supposedly killed by their significant others. Everyone checked out clean though, no criminal records or history of drug abuse or mental illness and they seemed to be genuinely horrified at what had happened. Needless to say, this was all enough for us to suspect that there was something here for us.
Somewhere between going through the facts and enjoying the peace and quiet, I fell into a deep sleep.

I dreamt of Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, and Kass. They were standing around me, just standing there. But they didn’t seem like themselves, there was something different behind their eyes that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but it was there. A malicious air to them, I guess. But they were my family, and if you can’t trust family then who can you trust?

I woke up to my cell phone belting out one of the generic ringtones.

“Hello?” Groggily, I sat up in bed and looked around, taking a moment to remember where I was.

“I need some help.” At that, I looked at the Caller ID and immediately perked, alarmed. “Kassia? Where are you?”

I heard her groan irritably, “In the bathroom…The door won’t open….” I laughed a little, relieved that she wasn’t out in a ditch somewhere-though she was quite capable of getting herself in and out of a ditch without help from me or anyone else-and went to try to pry open the bathroom door from the outside. The door handle was stuck, but between the two of us we managed to force it open without doing enough permanent damage to rack up a bill.

“Have a nice shower?” I asked, snickering slightly at the sight of my sister standing there in mismatched clothes and stringy wet hair, looking like she wanted to kill someone.

“The bathtub wouldn’t drain. I had to stand in like eight freaking’ inches of cold water. Eight inches.”

I just laughed and walked over the window, pulling the shiny gold curtain open to let in some extra light.

“Hmmm.”

“What?” Kassia appeared behind me, peering out into the sunny parking lot.

“The Impala is gone.” Which could only mean trouble.
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Sam's POV

“Are you sure?” Dean asked me for the twenty-seventh time. I simply nodded sharply, continuing to load the silver bullets in silence. The man was staggering down the road towards the Cheyenne Memorial Gardens, which appeared far too vast and relatively empty for our comfort. Not the mention the area around it. His drunken haze was leading him towards his doom-and us. We were parked outside the gardens, guns loaded and ready. He was young, probably in his early twenties with reddish-brown hair and 5 o-clock shadow at noon. Tall, pretty well built-Looked like he could hold his own. But then again, a lot of people who we’ve seen maimed and broken do.

He was obviously oblivious to the world around him, specifically the light blue Ford Fiesta tailing him.

“Then what are we waiting for?” My brother demanded, shifting his weight restlessly. I had a suspicious feeling that the excitement was more towards beating the girls than saving an innocent life. I just held a hand up, trying to shut him up. The man stopped suddenly, several yards ahead of us, swaying back and forth somewhat. “What’s he doing…?” I muttered, mostly to myself.

“Oh gee, I wonder…” The sarcasm was barely out before the soon-to-be murder victim doubled-over and puked all over the road, his hand going up to his head dizzily. The Fiesta had come to a stop a little ways behind him.

“Come on.”

I lost it and snapped my head back at him, glowering. “Dean, no competition or rivalry or whatever the hell is going on is important enough for you to act even more like a child. We’re not going to jump out there and start shooting up the damn road because you have issues.” My brother’s face twisted into a mixture of both surprise and annoyance.

“What the hell is your problem, anyway?” I hissed, clenching my fists. It all earned me the ‘Repressed-Anger’ stare.

“I have to pee.”

“Oh.” Awkward. “Sorry.” And I really was, not knowing what had come over me.

“Yeah.” He just glared at me, saying nothing else.

I turned back to my window, wondering what form the payback for my little outburst would take, when I felt my stomach tighten in horror.

Both the Fiesta and the man were gone.