Open Season [Finished]

[Jefferson]

Jefferson was about to jokingly say yes to Aiden, when the door opened. People had walked through the door. They were wearing sunglasses, and that irritated Jefferson a bit. He looke up at Aiden and gave him a "now what" look. Luckily Aiden seemed to already have a plan. Doing everything Aiden told him to do, Jefferson ended up handing him beers and looking at the monitors. Everything then happened quickly. After Aiden tripped, Jefferson's attention went quickly to the eyes. The man's eyes were perfectly normal. Jefferson was about to call Aiden back, when the woman took off her glasses to clean them. Her eyes were definatly not normal. Too happy about the acheivement to care about his sexist manner beforehand, Jefferson quickly grabbed a towel and went towards Aiden.

"Go to the woman and clean her up." Jefferson ordered Aiden. What he was truly doing was giving Aiden the fact that the woman was the shifter. He hoped Aiden understood him. Jefferson turned around and sat down. All he had to do was wait for Aiden to do what he did best.

[Casey]

The moment Aiden was away the beer was off the counter. Deacon dumped out the beer and while the kid was distracted filled the bottle with seltzer water. When he “tripped” Deacon set the battle back in its spot.

Remembering the bit about the monitor he glanced down past Jefferson. The guy looked normal but the chick, whoa boy. That wasn’t normal. Deacon only allowed the shock to remain on his face for a split second. Tending bar helped for reaction time.

Aiden came back and Jefferson was the first speak. So, he had seen something, meant Deacon wasn’t going completely insane. He pulled out two more beers and set them in front of Aiden, “Its not polite to polite to bump into a lady. Tell her, her drinks on the house.”

The two Aiden hit were putting their glasses back on. The woman talked the other man who nodded. The other woman was just laughed and the man was apologizing to the first one. Jefferson and Aiden were the experienced hunters. If there talk was anything to go by they could take care of the shifter. Despite that, something didn’t sit well with him. Another part of the puzzle piece was floating around and Deacon was sure it was gonna bite him in the ass.

[Aiden]

There was a shriek from the woman who had beer fly into her face, as well as a cry of shock from the man Aiden knocked himself into. He hoped by all things righteous that this worked, that he didn't make himself look like an idiot for nothing. He held his arms out to the side, shaking them to rid the small lines of alcohol that clung to him. "Oh, really, I'm so sorry," he said, those that knew him could hear the acting in his voice. "I'll be right back with that towel." He moved over to the bar, hoping again that Jefferson or Deacon was watching the monitor. He stepped behind, bending down out of sight, as if searching for the promised towel. Hunters: one, shifter: zero. Jeff identified the shifter as the woman Aiden spilled on, and he tucked the gun in the back of his pants.

Grabbing the towel, and the beers, Aiden continued the act for a moment. "Crud, I'm so sorry Mr. Jones. Please don't write me up again! Its just that one floorboard, y'know?" He grabbed the bottles, towel slung over his shoulder, and walked over to the table. "Drinks are on the house," he said, setting the bottles down on the table with obvious caution. He set the towel down, soaking up the alcohol and the suds, absorbing it all into the fabric. Again, the next move involved precise timing, and hope that he could outpower the shifter. He wiped and wiped, playing up the scene, and then when he could soak up no more, he moved the towel across the table, stepping behind the identified shifter, and in one sweeping motion, brought his arm from the table to a chokehold around the shifter's neck. In the other hand, the gun was drawn.

"Get back! This isn't your friend!" He shouted when the other woman gasped. He pulled the person away, the chair clattering to the ground. "We don't serve shapeshifters here," he said into the woman's ear.

[Jefferson]

Jefferson watched as Aiden did his part of the job. He couldn't help but feel that this maybe one of the easiest hunts they had ever been on. Everything was going smoothly, and that rarely happened. Then Aiden grabbed the woman in a chokehold position. Jefferson shook his head, and rushed to help Aiden. He stepped in front of Aiden and the shapeshifter's "friends." He had his gun at the ready, and even though he wasn't going to use it, the other people didn't know that.

"That isn't your friend. Your eyes are decieving you. Please you must trust us. We're not crazy." Jefferson calmly told the other poor people. They showed fear for their friend's life. This is the part that Jefferson hated about hunting. How will they ever explain that their friend isn't their friend, but a supernatural being? Jefferson pondered this question, until his eyes fell on Deacon. Jefferson hoped that Deacon could help them out.

"For the love of all that is good, please tell me you have great people skills Deacon. I really need your help in calming them down, because I don't think me holding a gun to them is working."

[Casey]

Consider his ass bitten.

The tourists screamed and went into panic mode. The shape shifter did its best innocent freak out, adding to the chaos in the room. It dug its sharp bright red nails into his arms. The action wasn’t of a frightened person, more something trying to inflict as much damage as possible.

“Friend?!” The unrestrained woman shrieked and grabbed a hold of the man Aiden had hit, “We don’t even know them! And the hell you’re not crazy!”

Then Jefferson was talking to Deacon. He’d hoped the hunters would be subtle, which they weren’t. Stupid, stupid, stupid idiots. Why couldn’t they get her into another room or something? His mind was running faster than it did on a bad night, even a bad night with Barry around. The first feasible plan came into his head and he walked to the end of the bar. Looking at Jefferson he made a small “go with me” signal.

“Yeah I got great people skills,” Deacon reached under the bar and pulled out one of the shotguns, “Its judging them I’m not so good at.” He carefully slid over the bar, keeping the shotgun mostly out of sight. “You two come in here, askin’ for a job. First costumers come in you threaten and go all bat shit on.” Deacon aimed the gun at Jefferson as he walked toward the group, “I’m gonna you two minutes to vacate the area before I use preemptive self defense. Not a second longer.” Looking over at Aiden he hoped the kid would pick up on what he really meant when he said, “Trust me.”

The free woman and the man, who Deacon assumed was he husband, took up his offer and bolted out of the Wesson. Two gone only two to deal with at the moment. The others might call the cops but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d have to spin a yarn. Sherriff was also a family friend who wasn’t going to think Deacon was willingly involved. He lowered the gun slightly and glanced between the Jefferson and Aiden.

“Top nock hunter my ass,” he mumbled to himself, “Can’t even take care of things quiet like. Bullshit.”

For a second it appeared that the situation could be managed. Then in a blur of movement the shifter went after Aiden’s face with her pointy little blade-nails. She jabbed wildly over her shoulder swipping towards his eyes on one side and the back of his neck with her other.

“You'll never have it,” she hissed adamantly. What it was, Deacon wasn’t sure. For all he knew it was a hunter thing. He tried to focus on what he did know. That was that he couldn’t shot the shifter and not cause serious damage to Aiden. Yep, defiantly bitten.

[Aiden]

Okay, so grabbing the woman and holding her at gunpoint wasn't the best idea, even Aiden knew that. But they had the information, they set the trap, and there were civilians that could be hurt. Despite the growing panic, which was distracting Aiden, it would serve to get the people away. After all, he had been called a mad man before, simply for telling someone with all sincerity that demons were real. And he'd been in more dangerous situations, way more dangerous, this was nothing. Now it was about making sure he could keep the shifter at bay until he could get a clear shot at the heart.

Deacon...he pulled a gun out on them?! It took a moment for Aiden to register the acting in the guy's voice, but still, that shotgun was being trained on people that it didn't need to be trained on, not to mention there weren't any silver bullets in there. It had to be done with Aiden's gun, or one of Jeff's. Aiden, deciding to play up the scene some more, stood his ground, while the other couple ran out. That left the shifter, and the other man. Aiden began to back away, holding the gun, and moving it down to the shifter's chest. This was a mistake, because no sooner had he done it, the shifter took action in the opening.

"Dammit!" He yelled, his other hand moving to block his face, though some deep scratches were made along the side. His eyes were fine, and he was able to grab her hand to avoid any on his neck. He pushed her away, gun flying up and training on her heart. "Son of a bitch!" He said with irritation, feeling the blood dripping down the side of his face. "Jeff, cover her," he quickly added. The man wasn't helping, inching forward towards the shifter. "How many times are we going to have to tell you that she isn't the person you know?!" He called out angrily.

[Jefferson]

Deacon pulled out a gun, which didn't surprise Jefferson. This was a bar, and the bartender needed something to protect himself with. What did surprise him was what the shifter had said. What did she mean by you never have it? Also, Jefferson needed to end things quickly. Now that Aiden was hurt, and mad, things were going to get ugly. Jefferson just couldn't believe he started it.

Pulling the shifter by the hair, Jefferson threw her to the ground. He placed his foot on her neck, aimed the gun at her heart. Whatever the shifter did now, he wouldn't move. He looked up at both Aiden and Deacon. "Deacon, what the hell did it mean by you never have it? Aiden, do you want the honors of shooting the damn thing, or are we going to have to wait some more?"

[Casey]

Jefferson had an excellent question. He was asking the wrong person, because Deacon had no clue what the shifter meant. Deacon was also no longer in the room. So not only was the hunter’s question unanswered it was also unheard.

After Aiden had repeated his statement to the man, he retreated unseen by the hunters toward the stairwell. Deacon did see him though. He considers using another path, but he didn’t know where the man would be when he exited. Stairwell it was, he decided and began following the man, neglecting to tell the Aiden or Jefferson. Not telling them where he was going was another thing to add to his list of stupid things he’d done that day.

The stairs were set in between two close walls. Enough space for him but not for two people or some of his heavier guests. Along the wooden walls were some of Harland’s old trophies. Random artifacts and weapons in locked frames. Halfway up he stopped next to a collection of daggers. Deacon found himself staring at them and not knowing why. There were three in total each made out of different metals, copper, bronze and lastly silver. Silver, he knew that was important, why was that important? Oh, shapeshifter’s didn’t like it and he had the sneaking suspicion he was about to go threaten one.

He quickly pulled out his keys and unlocked the case. The knife’s mounting made it take a minute to remove without cutting himself. Injuries going into a fight never helped. Deacon slid the dagger into his back pocket and left the keys dangling in the lock. His biggest concern wasn’t getting robbed. Cocking the shotgun quietly he continued up the stairs. At the top he heard a board creak and he raised the gun ready to fire.

There was no one at the top of the steps and Deacon was careful to not to alert the man that he wasn’t alone. The Wesson was old and if you didn’t step just right you’d alert the whole place of trips down the hallways. Only three people could get around unnoticed. One was God knows where, one was at a friend’s house and the third was trying desperately to remember if it was the third or fourth board that need to be skipped. Deacon began moving down the right side of the hall when there was another creak. Spinning around he aimed the gun in front of him. Nothing but the sound of a door opening.

Another thing about the Wesson, all doors that could be locked was locked. This included the rooms upstairs. At the moment those were hanging with many others out of a knife case. That meant that the lock had to be picked. Deacon rounded the corner, gun at the ready. The left door at the end of the hall stood open.

******
“…And then the bartender pulled out a gun!” the woman frantically yelled into the phone.

“Miss you have to calm down,” the operator said patiently.

“Calm down!” She shrieked, “my husband and I barely got out of there alive!”

“Miss, the police are on their way,” he said calmly over the phone, “why don’t you and your husband continue on your vacation and let the authorities handle this?”

She breathed heavily into the phone and stuttered out an, “Okay”.

“Miss I’m going to hang up now.”

“Okay…”

Casey pressed end on his phone. Those two… they so owed him.
*****

The door was most of the way open. From his spot he could see the man ripping apart the room, muttering to himself.

“Now I suggest,” Deacon aimed the gun at the man, “That you turned around slowly and do as I say.”

The man stopped and glared at him, “Or what?”

Deacon pulled the trigger hitting the man’s right arm and side. The recoil didn’t make him move or blink. He pumped the shotgun and aimed it back at the man.

“I do that.”

The man looked down at his bloody shoulder in mild surprise. With his left he started pulling off a large fragment of skin, revealing undamaged flesh underneath. He held it up in front of him and chuckled softly before dropping it.

“Haven’t seen someone like you for a long time,” the shifter mused, “I mean a couple have kept their promises but not many don’t give a man fair warning.”

Deacon snorted but kept his eyes on the man, “The gun should have been warning enough.”

“True, but that’s not going to kill me,” the shifter responded with a smile.

He turned his back on the bartender as if to go back to the room. Instead he pivoted and launched himself at Deacon. Without hesitation he pulled the trigger again, unloading the last round in the shifter’s stomach. The thing staggered back and Deacon pulled up the gun before ramming the butt into the shifter’s face. There was still blood, plenty of it, but the bones didn’t break like a normal human’s. Instead they were shifted and dented in the shape of the gun’s butt.

The shifter laughed loud, gargled in blood and misshapen bones, “Wow, do you have issues!”

Deacon threw the shotgun away and pulled the dagger out, keeping it to the side and behind him. Out of sight of the shifter. He staked forward as another bout of laughter ripped through the monster.

The shifter found Deacon’s persistence amusing. He didn’t bother trying to move or fight back. Laughter devolved into an insane giggle as the man moved into striking distance.

“I told you that won’t kill me!”

He stabbed the shifter in the heart right as he finished his taught.

“It wasn’t supposed to kill you,” Deacon explained in a calm voice, “It was supposed to distract you.”

The shifter looked down at the dagger in surprise. It gripped onto Deacon as it slid down to the floor, leaving a bloody trail down his side and front. When it hit the floor with a thud he stepped backward, blood from it’s stomach wound on his shoes. Deacon rolled the shifter’s body onto it’s back. The shock still in it’s dead eyes.

Deacon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. So much had happened in one day. Less than a day. If he hadn’t seen it himself he wouldn’t have believed there was really a shifter in his bar. He would have assumed this was just some regular Joe and that he’d killed a human being.

“Okay,” he said calmly, “okay.” He trailed off before opening his eyes, “There’s no way in hell I’m cleaning this mess up…”

[Aiden]

Suddenly it felt like everyone was gone; the other customers, the man, Deacon even...no, they were gone. It was just Jeff, the shifter, and himself. That made things much easier--no other bodies to get in the way. The job was now fierce in Aiden's being, he would demolish the evil that existed in his arms, and protect the others that left. The cops might be on their way, Deacon might be hiding, Jeff might not help, so many aspects could ride on this, but none of that mattered to Aiden. The shifter's warm body next to him let Aiden know this was all real. At Jeff's words, he shuffled to the side, getting over to a clear area. "Shut up, Jefferson," he hissed, emphasis on his real name. "I'll kill it, since you can't." The sudden change in Aiden came out of nowhere. The hunt was on, and it was almost over.

Aiden cocked the gun, but the shifter was fast; an elbow to the stomach and a fist knocking his arm away and sending the gun flying, it wrenched out of his grip and leapt over a table, grabbing its own gun from its waistband. "Hunters aren't the only ones that get to use 'em," it said in a low voice. The gun was aimed at Jeff, while Aiden struggled to get air into his system again. His hand was on his stomach, where it burned from the blow, his eyes momentarily unfocused. That was one of the fastest shifters he'd ever seen, odds were that this one had been around the block a few times. Maybe thats why the tip came in from Casey, this one was more dangerous and more experienced. From above, there came a loud bang, the shotgun went off. While the shifter's gaze went upward, Aiden dove for his gun, rolled, and aimed.

Bang, bang, bang! Three identical holes had appeared right aorund the shifter's heart, and it sank to its knees before toppling over onto the ground. Aiden stood, clicking the safety on and shoving the gun back in his pants. "That was easy," he said with a sigh, hearing another gunshot above, followed by a loud thud. "Rook?!" Aiden yelled, moving to the stairs, gun re-drawn in an instant. He swiftly moved up, gun at the ready, until he found the batender over the dead monster. "Great, there were two...good job," he said, turning away from the bloody mess.

[Jefferson]

Jefferson's attempt to keep the shifter down was in vain. The shifter had escaped and had elbowed Aiden in the stomach. Jefferson smiled at this little stunt. The shifter's fate was sealed already. Jefferson personally knew Aiden's love for the hunt, and seeing as it was almost over, Aiden had reached his peak. This is why Jefferson did not worry when the gun was pointed at him. He completely ignored the shifter and stared at Aiden, waiting for him to move. A shot was heard from above. The shifter looking up was it's mistake. After Aiden had killed it, Jefferson grabbed the body and moved it close to the door.

Going towards Aiden and Deacon, Jefferson noticed the other shifter. There was a mess from all the blood, and it sickened Jefferson a bit. He grabbed the dead shifter's body and carried it back towards the other. Two dead bodies were going to be hard to get rid off. The only solution was to burn the bodies. He went back to Aiden and Deacon, to tell them that he was leaving at this point.

"The hunt went well. I'll be back. I have to go burn the bodies, it's the least I can do for you too. Actually, cleaning this place may be a good thing for me to do too. I'll do that when I come back." Going towards the front door, he pried it opened. Checking to see if any one was outside, and seeing no one, Jefferson quickly dragged both bodies to his trunk. Thinking that he looked too much like the mafia, Jefferson worried about the police. Starting his car he drove away from the bar, looking for a distant place from society to burn the bodies. He found a small plain land, only eight miles away from the town. He hid behind the small trees and bushes, with the bodies. Covering them with gas and salt, do to a force of habit, Jefferson burned the body. Through all this, not a single living being had passed from his location. He found this a bit weird, but it didn't matter. Now that the bodies were burnt to a crisp, Jefferson headed back.

Driving back to the bar, Jefferson headed back and sat down. He still worried about what the shifter had said. Deacon also didn't have any idea what the shifter was talking about. He wondered if Aiden knew anything. There was probably something Malcolm had told him, but him bringing up Malcom to Aiden may be the last thing he did. He had no other choice. Getting up he headed towards Aiden.

"Aiden, look, I have no idea why I'm asking you this, but do you have any idea about what the shifter meant by "you'll never have it." Was their something that Malcolm mentioned to you that seemed strange. Well, stranger than usual."

[Casey]

He didn’t look up when Aiden yelled his name. He’d heard the gunshots downstairs and figured the hunters had taken care of the other shifter. Then the kid was whipping around the corner with a gun. When the gun was down he told him good job. Deacon looked up at him with his best “No Shit!” face before looking back at the room.

Jefferson came in and rambled as well. It may not have been but it sounded like it to him. Like the adults in the Peanuts cartoons. He barely acknowledged the body being dragged out, he just stared at the room.
The shifter had been looking for something. His eyes scanned the disheveled room, the only thing not turned over yet was the bed. That was probably because the shifter didn’t get a chance to. His mind keep cycling back to that, it had been looking. It had been sure it was in this room too. Why? He closed his eyes and tried to look at the room with fresh eyes. Something was out of place.

He started looking in the closest and worked his way out. Whatever was triggering his feeling wasn’t something the shifter had done. Perhaps it had been there before the hunters came but he had no reason to act on it. Carefully he picked the shelves back up and ran his hand along the back. His searching could have looked like cleaning because of how methodical he was, placing everything exactly back in it’s place. It took hours and he was just getting to the bed when Jefferson got back.

The wears in the wood floor weren’t right he decided. There was the spot the bed had been, and a new set of second marks a couple weeks old. He pulled the bed back from the wall and looked at the dust floor beneath.

There.

There was the thing that hadn’t been there before. The prize at the end of the tunnel. In the wood was the carving of a circle and star with symbols all around it. He crouched down and felt along the edges of the board, it was loss. Carefully he pulled the board up and looked underneath.

“And who,” he asked himself, “is this?”

He walked down stairs and held the object in his hand. He must have looked terrible, blood on his hands, blood on his clothes, a distant look on his face and the discovery in his grasp. Carefully he looked in over, inside and out before closing it when he reached the bottom. Jeff had just mentioned this theory when he started walking up.

“I think,” he said with a far away voice, “I may have found it.”

Deacon held up the tattered leather journal for the hunters to see.

"Either of you know a John Winchester?"

[Aiden]

The fight was finished, the hunted dead, and the hunters recovering. Deacon had only been able to kill the shifter that he cornered due to his attentiveness when Aiden and Jeff explained, they in essence saved his life. Whoever this Casey guy was, the deed he asked of them was finished, and with the shifters dead, couldn't he go home now? Jeff made him drag himself halfway across the country just so they could kill two shifters that any other hunter could have gone after? While Deacon cleaned up the mess in the room, and Jeff disposed of the bodies, Aiden grabbed the newspaper, and sure enough, there were signs of dead people and missing persons. It was all too easy, why did it have to be them?

In the meantime, he washed himself up; he felt dirty, sweaty, there was some blood spattered on him. The warm water that cleansed his face was welcomed, as it soon rid the grime on his hands as well. With that, Aiden sank into one of the chairs in the bar area, laptop open, checking the online newspaper for Portland. It was as he figured; people were still disappearing, there were various signs of...nearly everything...he needed to get back home, protect people, not sit here on his--

He heard Deacon's voice from above, the first words he'd said since the trio disbanded, and he moved up the stairs on his own time; he wasn't in the mood, nor did his body tell him to rush. Entering the room, he was surprised at how well put together the room was, it almost looked like it hadn't been disturbed. Deacon, however, held his attention seconds later, and Aiden moved forward and swiped the book out of his hand. He opened it, glanced at a few pages as he shuffled through it, and looked to Jeff. "It's real," he said grimly, with one thought on his mind; Why don't the Winchesters have this?

[Jefferson]

Jefferson suddenly felt more awake then he ever had before in his life. In the hands of Aiden was John Winchester's journal. He couldn't believe that the journal was here, let alone the disbelief that John ever visited Keystone. How was it that the journal could have reached the bar? Who brought it to this bar? Questions began to pop into Jefferson's mind. His head began to hurt from the answers he tried to give to his questions. This seemed to top all the strange things that he had ever come across. The big question though was how could they use the journal?

"How is this going to be helpful in looking for Sam and Dean? The last time I checked, their old man only wrote about jobs he had, and the different ways on killing the beings. We already know all about that, so why is the journal important?" Jefferson began rubbing his head. The headache was coming back worse then ever. He was getting too old to worry about all this.

[Casey]

He couldn’t answer Jefferson’s questions. Deacon had no clue who John was or why his journal was important. Heck, he had a few questions of his own. Like, how did the shifter know where to look? Out of all the rooms it had zeroed in on this one. Biting his thumbnail Deacon held up a hand to the hunters.

“Just give me a second,” he said before walking in to the storeroom.

In a small corner of the room sat a desk with all his records. It looked slightly out of place but Art was always going through them and organizing. He had thought this was the case today but maybe the shifter’s were the ones with sticky fingers. The leather binder he was looking for was right on top, closed but pages bent. Opening to the damaged pages he found records of visitors who had stayed the night weeks, almost a month back. One name stuck out immediately.

“Son of a Bitch,” he swore under his breath, jogging back out to meet the others.

“You aren’t going to believe this,” Deacon said showing them the binder, “A ways back I booked that room to Casey Sanders. Guy paid cash, didn’t bother me until now.” He looked down before continuing, “Those two ghouls must have been following your buddy. How they knew about the book, I got no clue.”

Deacon ran a hand through his hair, “So what are ya’ll gonna do now?”

[Aiden]

The same thought was running through Aiden's mind: How did the shifter know the journal was there, more specifically, where at in the tavern exactly? And the even bigger question at hand was how did the journal get out of the hands of the Winchester's? It was their father's, Aiden knew that, but it was always on one of them, which brought up the question if the brothers were caught by some supernatural being or not. He'd only met them once, proved his worth as a Hunter to them, so he didn't know them well enough to know what exactly it might mean. Jeff looked more confused and bothered than Aiden, which definitely meant that something was up, and something that wasn't good. Deacon disappeared for a couple of minutes, in which time Aiden turned to Jeff.

"I don't know what exactly is going on, but I bet Casey probably has a great deal to due with it," he said, a little bitterly. He didn't like this Casey guy, or how he knew so much, but whoever he was, he at least warned them of the danger after calling them there from across the country. Jeff gave him a doubtful shrug, taking the journal and stowing it inside of his jacket. When Deacon returned, explaining about a Casey Sanders, Aiden instantly burned the name into his mind, with the intent of researching the guy on all levels to find out who he was. "Well now I really don't like him," he mumbled, sighing and glancing around the room. "I guess....I guess we're just going to have to listen to this guy for now, whoever he is. I mean, he saved our asses once, he knew what was going on...he left the journal, he was the one that called about the owners...something bad is going on."