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spn-rewrites · 6 years ago

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01x07 (part 2)

Season One Episode Seven: Hook Man

Summary: the case is getting closer and closer to being solved, despite all the ups and downs but all the reader wants to do it wrap it up and get the hell out of dodge.

Word Count: 5.5k

Part 1 Part 3

It was dark and 9-mile road had an eerie feeling to it that only got worse when Dean shut the headlights of the Impala off. You got out, regardless of how fucking scary this place was at night but you had to investigate the case somehow. Right up close and personal. The extended arsenal of weapons Dean kept in the trunk made you feel slightly better but that feeling went away within seconds.

“If it is a spirit, buckshot won’t do much good,” Sam commented after Dean handed him a gun from the truck. Sam messed with the gun, aiming it in the direction of the road.

“Yeah. Rock salt,” Dean said, handing Sam the bullets filled with rock salt. They were a secret weapon that you and Dean created a while back. Something to keep the spirits at bay until you could safely get rid of them. For good.

“Hhm. Salt being a spirit deterrent.” Sam took them, turning them around in his hand to examine them and then put them in his gun. Dean rummaged some more in his truck and grabbed a weapon of his own and ammo.

“It won’t kill ‘em,” he said, slamming the trunk shut with the gun slung from his back.

“But it’ll slow them down.” You finished his sentence, earning a wink from Dean as he rounded the Impala. You followed in the middle, safely sandwiched between the two boys. Where you always wanted to be.

“That’s pretty good. You and dad think of this?” Sam asked, curious about the ammo. You were prepared to tell him the story, give him every little detail from how the conversation started and how you mentioned the idea, just in passing and as a joke and how Dean’s face lit up, excited about it and then took complete credit for the idea but you didn’t mind. You wanted to indulge Sam in the knowledge of how it took about five different tries to get the rock salt in the bullet the way you wanted and how the first time you guys tried to use it, it didn’t work and the two of you ended up running from a spirit like you were in a horror movie.

“I told you, you don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius,”” Dean beat you to it, giving his answer as blandly as possible. His incessant need to make Sam think highly of him, the secret was that Sam already did. You were cut off the sound of the woods just beyond the road creaking. Twigs snapping and the brush moving around and it wasn’t from the wind.

“Over there, over there,” you whispered, turning your attention a few feet to the right. You nudged Sam, who’s gun was lifted and aimed and ready to shoot if need be. The end of the gun followed your gaze and Dean had his hand ready to grab his weapon if he needed to as footsteps started to approach. The leaves. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Under the footsteps of whatever was ahead.

“Put the gun down! Now! Now! Hands behind your head!” A voice boomed, causing Sam to immediately drop his weapon. An officer, sheriff, park ranger, you didn’t know. You couldn’t tell and it didn’t really matter because he had a gun pointing right at the three of you and he would shoot if you didn’t do what he said so you hands went behind your head.

“Wait, wait, wait! Okay! Okay!” Dean coaxed, setting the gun that was hanging from his back on the ground and doing what the officer said. Spirits, shapeshifters, Hookman legends were all easy peasy but the law enforcement parade was a whole separate story.

“Get down on your knees! Do it! On your knees!” He bellowed, getting closer and closer with his gun still aimed in your direction. Again, you did what you were told, the twigs poking into your knees. It hurt and you wanted to move them away with your hands, adjust your positioning so that you didn’t end up with holes in your kneecaps but you knew better. “Now get down on your bellies! Come on, do it!” He yelled once everyone was on their knees. One step further, you thought. The knife in the back.

“He had the gun,” Dean whined, frustrated that the cops were making him also get on his stomach you understood, being in the same boat as him but you would have never said it out loud and you wished you could kick him for it.

“We saved your ass! Talked the sheriff down to a fine, my dude. I’m Matlock,” Dean boasted as he pushed the grand doors of the police station open. It was the next day and the three of you spent the night in police custody. They let you and Dean go with just a warning, seeing as you didn’t have a gun aimed at law enforcement’s head but talking Sam out of jail time was a little bit harder than that.

“But how?” Sam asked, trying to catch up to Dean’s fast pace. He wanted to get out of there quickly. Less time near police, the less time they have to decide they want to search his car. You always told him they wouldn’t unless they had solid evidence to, but Dean was paranoid about it.

“Told him you were a dumb ass pledge and we were hazing you.” Dean chuckled at his own made up story. It was the first thing that popped into his mind and you followed along with it. It seemed to be the easiest and most realistic story, seeing as the events of the past few weeks.

“What about the shotgun?” Sam still pushed harder for more information. A few more feet to the car and then you guys were home free. Note to self, next time don’t go into the creepy woods.

“We told them that you were hunting ghosts and that the spirits are repelled by rock salt. Typical hell week prank,” you explained. The truth, in your case, never made any sense and it was so wild that sometimes it was the best excuse. No one wanted to question it. With the death of the frat boy and no suspects or leads, rumors were going wild and why wouldn’t a ghost be one of them?

“And he believed you?” Sam sounded like he didn’t believe you himself. Like you were making up stories and he was going to get arrest at any moment. As if they let him loose, gave him a taste of his freedom just to take it away as quickly as it was given to him.

“Well, you look like a dumb-ass pledge,” Dean joked as you finally reached the car. Sam went to open the door when Dean mumbled his name. You both followed his gaze and saw at least 5 police officers rushing out of the same doors you two came out of only moments ago. One of them was the cop who questioned you. You could have sworn you saw Sam’s life flash before his eyes as if what he was imagining in his head was coming true but then they all got in their respective police cars, ignoring the three of you and speeding off with their sirens on full blast. You decided to follow.

The Impala went as fast Dean would let it, going fast enough to keep up with the sound of the sirens but not too fast because then you would end up in the same situation you were in earlier.

Dean inched closer to the scene, yellow caution tape cutting off the whole driveway

and yard of what seemed to be a normal, suburban house but something awful happened on the inside of it. Something no one would ever be able to imagine just by looking at it’s perfectly sided exterior. Lori Sorenson sat on the back of an ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her shoulder. What the hell was she doing here? You noticed Sam’s eyes linger longer than you wanted.

Dean went around the corner of the block, parked the Impala and you gained access into the back of the house. You needed to get as close to the crime scene as possible before they cleaned it all up and poof all evidence of whatever this was is gone. “Why would the Hookman come here? It’s a long way from 9-mile road,” Sam pointed out, poking holes in the only theory you guys had.

“Maybe he’s not haunting the crime scene, maybe it’s something else,” Dean said, patching it back up. The three of you crept alongside the house, keeping a close eye on the people in the front of the house, their backs turned towards you. A pair of girls came into view, closer than the other people and all three of your backs went up against the wall, Dean’s arm covering over your chest as if you didn’t get the hint.

Sam was already started to climb the side of the house without Dean noticing because his eyes were too attached to the back of the girls. “Damn sorority girls,” Dean drooled. “Think maybe we’ll see a naked pillow fight?” Dean laughed at his own joke as you helped Sam take his first couple of steps up the house. When Dean notices, his laughter subsided and he started to help you climb up behind Sam and then him, behind you. His eyes still never left the girls butts.

You kept your hand trailing alongside the house, the contact-making you feel a little less like you could fall off and die at any moment in time. Sam kept peeking behind him at you like he needed to keep a close watch but you knew Dean was behind you and would catch you if you fell. You wondered why Sam kept looking if he knew that, too.

Before he made any more moves, Sam checked the crowd in the front of the house to make sure no one was looking up. When the coast was clear, he pried open the window and slide in. You did the same and then so did Dean, who was a lot less graceful than you. “Be quiet,” Sam hissed from inside the house.

“Me be quiet? You be quiet!” Dean pressed back, getting his whole body in the house. You closed the window behind him, ignoring their bantering. You were in a hallway with fresh linens folded up on a shelf. The door to the right of you was the victims. You knew that by the police officer that was looking around, taking notes on his pad. Sam held out his arm so neither you nor Dean would go ahead and get caught.

When the officer left, the three of you entered. The only crime scene tape that was up was blocking off the queen size bed with a queen size pool of blood-soaked into the sheets. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light” was drawn in blood, blood that was dripping down the walls and into the sheets Sam repeated the words, his voice quiet. “That’s right out of the legend,” he said.

“That’s classic Hookman, all right. It’s definitely a spirit,” Dean said, pointing at his nose. With all the gore that was in front of you, the horrific smell was the least of your concerns. You starred at the scene in awe as Dean started to look around for other clues.

“Yeah, I’ve never spelled ozone this strong before,” Sam commented about the smell. You pointed at a symbol that was drawn in the same blood. It was lower than the words, like a signature. “Hey, come here,” Sam called for Dean who appeared within moments. “Does that look familiar to you?” He asked like he knew the answer but wanted Dean to put the pieces together for himself. You felt it, too. It was too familiar for it to be random. A signature. That’s exactly what it was.

You snuck out of the house, down the siding and tiptoed back to the Impala where you dug up all the papers and information that you had about the Hookman legend. There, on a drawing of the hook Jacob Karns used, was the symbol. “It’s the same symbol,” you pointed out the obvious as you sat on the hood of the Impala, Sam in the middle holding the paper.

“Seems like it is the spirit of Jacob Karns,” Sam concluded, still reading the pages of Jacob. Dean seemed content with this information, looking off into the street and not at the pages anymore.

“Well, let’s find his body, salt and burn the bones,” he said as if the solution was always just that easy.

“After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an old North Cemetery in an unmarked grave,” Sam read, flicking the papers as if they were the one who caused this. The pages were the reason Jacob Karns was unfindable. The pages were the reason these people died.

“Super,” Dean deadpanned and got off the hood of the car, rounding it to get in the front seat. Sam quickly followed suit, grunting as he got up. He held his hand out for you to grab and you did, acting as if the touch wasn’t sending shivers down your spine.

“So, we know it’s Jacob Karns, but we still don’t know where he’ll manifest next,” Sam was explaining when Dean picked off a piece of paper from his windshield. He read it, turned it around a few times. “Or why.”

“I think I have a wild guess about why. I think your friend Lori has something to do with this,” Dean said, not explaining what the note was but instead he got in the car. Sam cocked his head, giving his brother a quizzical look before turning to you. You shrugged your shoulders, knowing nothing and held your hands up in defense.

Dean explained on the way to the frat house that the note he saw was from Lori herself, which is why Dean made the comment about Lori having something to do with it. It made sense, she was at two of the murders and the only witness.

The frat house was crawling with college students that were either getting drunk or completely drunk. While you were dodging all of the creepy guys, staying close to Sam’s side, and gawking at how idiotic all these people looked dancing as if they were made of metal poles, Dean was checking out all of the hot sorority girls.

“Man you’ve been holding out on me! This college thing is awesome!” Dean yelled over the heavy music that boomed through the entire house. Sam was hitting his palm with a rolled-up stack of papers he had been carrying around. He was jittery. Nervous.

“This wasn’t really my experience,” he commented. No expression in his voice but his eyes were darting around the entire place probably looking for Lori, you assumed. You didn’t let that hurt you. That he was looking for another girl while you were standing right next to him.

“Let me guess, library, studying, straight A’s,” Dean said. It was more of a statement than a question because you both knew that was exactly what Sam did in college. He didn’t party and hook up with girls and get drunk every weekend and wake up in someone new’s bed. No, he went to class and did all his assignments and then he met Jess and settled down into his little apartment where he continued to get good grades only now he had a hot girl to wake up to every morning. Sam nodded at Dean’s comment, as you suspected. “What a geek,” Dean teased.

“We did our research,” you told Dean, anything to change the subject. You took the papers that he was messing with out of Sam’s hands, unrolled them, and showed them to Dean.

“It was bugging me. How is the Hookman tied up with Lori?” Sam asked, setting the scene for why you did the research and what you had found. Dean nodded and started walking through the crowd. You both followed him and Dean read the paper silently before reading it out loud.

“1932 - Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967 - Seminarian held in hippie rampage,” Dean read off the article titles, glancing at your expectant faces. He didn’t get it. He wasn’t putting the dots together so Sam did for him.

“The pattern. In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality.” Dean stopped to listen to Sam talk. You stood close to Sam as boys passed you by, looking at you, pawing at you. Dean noticed and stared at them until they felt uncomfortable and walked away. “And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force,” Sam continued. “Killings carried out - get this - with a sharp instrument,” Sam finished. His face was so filled with excitement that you were almost let down when Dean decided to push the connection.

“What does this have to do with Lori?”

“A man of religion who openly preaches against immorality,” Sam repeated again. Lori’s dad. Dean got it, nodded his head as if he just solved the math equation he had been working on for ages. “Maybe this time instead of trying to save a whole town, he’s trying to save his only daughter.”

“Reverend Sorenson,” Dean commented, reading the pages in his hands again. “You think he’s summoning the spirit?”

“Maybe.” Sam glanced around the room, checking for any prying ears or Lori maybe. “Or you know how a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place?” He suggested.

“The spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them. Yeah okay,” Dean ran through the facts as quickly as they went through his mind. How big the possibility of that actually was.

“Without the Reverend ever even knowing it,” Sam finished his thoughts. When they got into their rhythm, they bounced off of each other like that ping pong game at the arcades or the pizza parlor. Words and thoughts, ideas and facts spitting out at each other and bouncing around the room.

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight,” Dean said to his brother. You wanted nothing less than for Sam to be drinking at a party and keeping an eye on another drunk college girl but he did what needed to be done. He hesitated before answering, which made you feel a little better but not really by much.

“What about Y/N?” Sam asked, no doubt referring to the eyes that kept falling on your butt and the hands that were like magnets to the small of your back. All eyes and hands unwelcomed, unless they were attached to the Winchester boy, who’s honey eyes, were all you could seem to fucking focus on. Focus.

“Um, standing right here and can take care of herself!” You called out after a beat. You gestured your hands up and down your body to further prove that you were actually there and didn’t need to be spoken for. Sam’s eyes following your hands were just a bonus.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Dean agreed with little hesitation until a blonde bombshell rounded the counter and bent over the pool table, pretending she could actually play but you knew and Dean knew that she really just wanted someone to look at her ass. “And I guess we’ll go see if we can find that unmarked grave,” Dean groaned, looking away from the girl and cursing under his breath. You couldn’t help but laugh at him as you followed him through the house.

Sam’s hand grabbed your wrist before you could get too far and he turned you around. “Be careful,” he said. His eyes were searching your face. You nodded and he let go too soon but you walked away from him despite every bone in your body screaming not to.

Once again, you found yourself in a dark, creepy space but this time it was filled with gravestones and you just knew in your heart that there were ghosts all around you. Dean leads the way, the flashlight shining the path that you were following, looking for an unmarked grave that you could potentially dig up. Some leaves crackle and Dean stops. “What was that?” You whisper, nervous of every sound that you could hear. He shook his head and the noise away and continued. “There!” You whispered, pointing eagerly at an unmarked grave with a familiar symbol etched into the cement.

“Aha, here we go,” Dean mumbled quietly while you set all your stuff down. Dean shoved the shovel into the ground and you set up the lights so he could see. You were there for moral support, not actual support. There was no way you were digging up a dead body and Dean knew that. So, he started digging. “Next time, I get to watch the cute girl’s house,” Dean grunted as he shoveled out yet another pile of dirt.

“Just keep going,” you brushed off his comment about Sam being with a cute girl and kept the light, and your eyes, on the hole in the ground you were sitting next to.

“Oh, don’t act like it’s not bothering you that he’s there right now.”

“And why would it?” You asked, looking down at him for once. He took a break, setting the shovel down and coming close to you. Your heart was racing at whatever it was he was going to say and you wanted to look away but you didn’t. You forced yourself to look at him. To prove that nothing was going to shake you.

“Because you’re in love with him, stupid.” You took offense to his comment, shook the light a little bit at the ground below you. Now you broke the eye contact and looked down, studied it as if it could make the comment go away.

“I think you’re close, keep going.” Dean did as you asked, slamming the shovel into the ground. The entire ground below him cracked and he hit it again and there he was the skeleton in all his glory. “Hello, preacher,” you purred.

Dean handed you the shovel and you gladly took it, reaching your hand down to help him up. He groaned as he stood on solid ground and you rummaged through the bags of stuff to find the matches. Dean was cleaning himself off from all the dirt that he was covered in and you handed him the matches. Dean lit one and then lit up the preacher.

Still, no rest for the wicked because after everything was said and done, a phone call came through your next stop was the hospital. You followed the nurses instructions to the room where Lori’s dad was but you were stopped by two officers. “I’m with him. That’s my brother. Hey, brother!” Dean tried to push his way through, but the officers made you stay back. The officer speaking to Sam gave them the signal and they let the two of you through.

You smiled and thanked the guards as Dean just waltzed in as if he owned the place. As if he had a right to be there.

“You okay?” You asked as the two of you met with Sam in the middle of the long corridor that leads from the two of you were waiting to where the Reverend was laying in bed. Where Lori was waiting with him.

“What the hell happened?” Dean asked, peaking around Sam’s body to try and catch a glimpse of what was going on but all you could see was the police officer, keeping a close eye.

“Hookman,” Sam said simply. But no, that wouldn’t make any sense.

“You saw him?” Dean asked, just as confused as you were but you were flustered and confused and Dean was always cool and calm and collected and he could muster up the words.

“Damn right I did. Why didn’t you torch the bones?” Sam snapped, dipping his head closer to yours so that you could hear him whisper and the rest of the hospital, and the police officer, couldn’t.

“What the hell are you talking about? We did. Are you sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns?” You spoke up, defending yourselves even though you knew that Sam wasn’t really mad. You were projecting and judging by the look Dean gave you, he knew it, too.

“Sure as hell looked like him. And that’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching onto the Reverend,” Sam said, putting more pieces together. Just when you think you’ve figured it all out - the final piece, sitting there in arms reach and you go to put it into place and it’s not the right fit.

“Well yeah the guy wouldn’t send the Hookman after himself,” Dean shrugged as if that was common sense.

“I think it’s latching onto Lori,” Sam offered. A light went off in your head, ding ding ding. Of course, it was latched to Lori. “Last night she found out that her father was having an affair with a married woman.”

“So what?” Dean asked, pushing Sam again. You didn’t even want to know why or how Sam found out that information. What they talked about. Why they were talking about and God, did he kiss her?

“So she’s upset about it. She’s upset about the immorality of it. She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, that you get punished,” Sam kept spitting the facts. Like the conversation was on repeat in his brain. Like he wanted to keep her voice and her words close to him so he never forgot it.

“Okay so she’s conflicted and the spirit of Jacob Karns is latching onto her repressed emotions and maybe doing the punishing for her,” Dean kept going, again like ping pong balls.

“Rich comes on too strong. Taylor tries to make her into a party girl. Dad has an affair,” you start listing off all of the reasons the people around Lori got hurt. You actually felt bad for her. What if her dad had died, too? She would have lost a lot of people she was close to and on top of that, she would be the number one suspect. Of course, Sam kissed her.

“Remind me not to piss this girl off,” Dean joked, looking out the giant window that lit up the entire space.

“We burned the bones. We buried them in salt. Why didn’t that stop him?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest and gave Sam your attention. He looked at you, really looked at you for the first time since you saw him today and it was like he slowed down.

“You guys must have missed something,” he shrugged.

“No, I burned everything in that coffin,” Dean defended himself, looking at his brother. His face was stern and serious now, certain that we got everything but you had little to attest to. After all, you sat on the sidelines watching.

“Did you get the hook?” Sam asked as if it was that easy. As if that was such an obvious answer and you should have looked for the damn hook.

“The hook?”

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, a part of him,” Sam said, again spitting facts and they’re all right all the time and it was fucking annoying.

“So like the bones, the hook is the source of his power,” Dean ping-ponged off of Sam and Sam ping-ponged off of Dean and they looked at each other like they solved the world’s biggest cold case.

“So if we find the hook.”

“We stop the hookman,” they said in unison.

“Ok, that is really starting to get creepy.” You held your hands out, taking a step back and distancing yourself from the creepy twins.

So so you did more research. Back to the drawing board to search for the hook that was keeping Jacob Karns on this Earth and killing people. Not innocent people, you thought, but still people. Was he really that bad? Was he any worse than the three of you?

You sat three in a row at a table in the library, book sprawled out all over the place just searching, searching, searching. “Here’s something, I think,” Dean said, chewed up pen in his mouth. He took it out and used the side that was in his mouth to point at the book, yuck. “Logbook, Iowa State Penetrary. Karns, Jacob. Person affects, disposition thereof,” Dean started drifting off as he spoke. Something about after his execution and his personal belonging and then it got too quiet to really hear him. “St. Barnabas Church.”

“Isn’t that where Lori’s father preaches?” Sam asked, of course, he would know that you thought. The thought came faster than it left and you felt bad for it ever cross your mind because you knew that and Dean knew that and just because Sam knew, doesn’t mean he’s in love with her. “Where Lori lives?”

“Maybe that’s why the Hookman’s been haunting reverends and reverends daughters for the past 200 years,” Dean suggested. The Hookman was lazy. Didn’t want to hunt for it’s pray, it would rather sleep for 20 years and strike at the least suspecting person. Someone with a lot of friends that do bad things.

“Yeah but if the hook were at the church or at Lori’s house, don’t you think someone might have seen it?” Sam asked, stating another obvious fact. “I mean, a blood-stained, silver-handed hook?” You would think, you thought. But people weren’t that smart and things go unnoticed all the time but that wasn’t a good enough answer and you knew it would never be that easy. You wanted nothing more than for the case to be over. For Lori Sorenson to be just another person that we helped along the way and to put thousands of miles in between her and you and Sam.

“Check the church records,” Dean grumbled and got up to receive just that. It took only a few minutes, a few position changes and one single thought - that Sam looked really good sitting in the chair that way, with his hair in his eyes and his biceps popping out as he flipped the pages of the book he was hunched over - to find the answer.

“St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received - silver-handed hook from State Penitentiary. Reforged.” Sam tapped the book the same way he flicked that paper like it did something wrong. “The melted it down, made it into something else,” he sighed and leaned back into the chair. Defeat. That was what was in the air of the library now. Defeat.

“Well! Looks like the case is closed and there’s nothing else we can do!” You chanted, standing up quickly, closing the books near you and walking away from the boys before they could say a word. You knew it wasn’t that simple and if they started something they would finish it but you had to admit that seeing Lori’s face made you want to punch yourself. Yourself for feeling so many feelings for a boy that’s emotionally unavailable and being mad at another girl for seeing the light in his smile the same way you did.

The older boy followed you but you brushed off any questions he asked you and agreed without any arguing that you were going to the church and finishing this job before anyone else got hurt. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? To help people and make sure they weren’t getting hurt but what about you? God, you were selfish.

You pulled up to the church and got out of the Impala. “We can’t take any chances. Anything silver goes in the fire,” Dean said, setting the rules up for the night’s work of finally getting the hook and putting the spirit down for good.

“Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in,” Sam said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He knew where she was, of course, he did. You wanted to kick yourself for the thoughts you kept having and how mean they were for no reason but something about this place and that girl were getting to you.

“All right, take your pick,” Dean offered.

“I’ll take the house.” Of course he would.

“Y/N?” Dean asked, looking at you. You wanted to go with Sam, spend time with him but you knew you would just get pissed off so you decided against it.

“I’ll stay with you,” you said. Dean nodded and Sam walked off, heading towards the house. You started to walk towards the church, away from Sam and Dean.

“Hey,” Dean called out after Sam. You stopped also, looking back at the older Winchester. “Stay out of her underwear drawer.” You rolled your eyes at his comment and when he looked at you to follow, you saw the panic in his face for even saying that out loud but it was brotherly banter and you knew he couldn’t help himself but to tease Sam. You wonder if there was something Dean knew that you didn’t, but you were paranoid.

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