10. Witch Hunt

Yeah, I'm so proving Franco wrong. That...that is just sick.

Sam and I found Dean's motel room, Shaylene included, once we found the Impala. They hadn't gotten busy, because apparently Shaylene was a prostitute. No, not the normal kind. The kind that made you bargain and agree to sell your soul.

Someone say demon?

The three of us set a trap for the demon pimp, and now we've got him stuck under a Devil's Trap. The trap makes me uncomfortable, as does the demon who comes. He doesn't say anything about me or to me, so he must not care that much that a demon is in cahoots with the Winchesters.

I stay near Shaylene, who's shaking. Sam is near Dean, an angel blade at the ready to kill the bastard.

"She told us everything," I say coldly to the demon in the trap. "Abduction, forced prostitution—it's pretty gnarly, even for a demon."

"She's got her version, I've got mine."

"Liar," Shaylene snaps.

"Let me guess—she came to you begging for you to pimp her out," says Dean.

"Yeah, 'cause that Harvard degree was working out so well for her."

"How many girls are there, hmm? How big is this?" I demand. I don't want him to say there's a whole mass of them.

"Just me and Shay."

"He's lying," Shaylene insists. "There's a brothel. I heard him on the phone. They told me what you are—a demon from Hell."

"Beats trash from the street. Face it, missy—without me, you would've been dead of drugs or worse in a year. Frankly, this little ho should be thanking me."

Before anyone can stop her, Shaylene yanks the demon knife out of Dean's hands and plunges it into the demon. He sparks inside before his lifeless body collapses onto the floor.

"Okay," I say slowly. "Well, that just happened."

"Yeah, and he was our best shot at the location of the brothel," says Sam, annoyed. "Do you have any idea where it is?" This is directed at Shaylene.

"No," she admits. "But, um..." She goes to the dead demon, fishing around in his jacket pocket. She pulls out a business card, handing it over to Dean. I go to him, peeking down at the small lettering. "I saw him give these out at the bars."

My brothers and I look at each other. I don't know what makes me more furious: the fact that there is a brothel full of abducted, scared women, or the fact that a demon is behind this. I feel the bloodlust on my tongue. These monsters need to go. Those girls don't deserve to be put through what they're going through.

If they're around, they're fair game. The boys won't care, just don't get carried away. You wanted this, prove that you can handle it. Prove that Dean isn't making a mistake by keeping the cure away.

* * *

Something has torn through this place. There are two dead demons on the floor, one in a pile of some sort of black goop.

"Damn, we missed the party," I say, pouting.

"Can't believe somebody got to kill this Raul tool before we could," Dean agrees. "Check the I.D.s."

Sam and I take a body each. At the sound of liquid being poured, I pick my head up.

"Really, dude?" I say to Dean. He's behind the bar, taking advantage of the emptiness and pouring himself a drink.

"Uh, guys," says Sam, "from the look and...smell of it, pure demon. I think this is Raul."

My eyes widen. A demon died in this way? How is that even possible? "What? Did he puke himself to death?"

"Yeah, literally."

"I was only kidding, partially."

"Okay, so...Something went down here," says Dean. "There was a standoff. One demon smokes out and Raul...What can even kill a demon like this?"

"Apparently, a witch." Sam finds a hexbag.

I wrinkle my nose. Great. We're dealing with a witch. A witch who's...killing demons. "So...should we be doing a witch hunt or sending them a food basket for their job?" I ask.

"Well, we don't know who we're dealing with," says Sam. "Better to go find the witch than leave them alone."

"Sam's right," says Dean from the bar.

"Okay, seriously, away from the booze, Dean," I say.

"What? Don't want one?"

"I'm more interesting in finding this witch than guzzling a bar's inventory."

"Fine." Dean starts looting the bottles. "More for us back at home base."

I roll my eyes. "Unbelievable."

After some looting from the place, we're back on the road. Sam, somehow, has wifi, and is on his laptop. I'm resting against the backseat, eyes unfocused as they stare out the car window. My mind goes to Cas. This feels just like how it was before: we'd be together for a bit, but the majority of the time we were on separate missions, only to reunite again for only a short while.

Dean's driving takes us into night. I rub my face, not out of fatigue, but out of boredom. I tap my foot against the car floor.

"Here we go," says Sam. "Um, so it looks like in the eighteenth century, there were accounts of demons killed by witchcraft. Apparently they were vanquished by a spelled called defigere et depurgare, which is Latin for 'to bind and purge.'"

"You think that's the same kind of spell that took out Raul?" I ask.

"Sounds like it. But from what I can tell, that spell hasn't been used in over three-hundred years. And it was only ever known by one person, the witch who created it."

"That is?"

"Rowena."

"So we'd be going after a witch, if it is in fact the same witch, who is insanely powerful enough to kill demons the way she did." I might just be fearful of Rowena, if she's the one who's using the spell. She can easily kill me, even if I'm not human. She made goo out of Raul, she can easily do the same to me.

* * *

My brothers and I find ourselves at a restaurant, where it looks like Rowena has made another strike on demons. Since I'm not dressed in FBI gear, I have to make up a different story. I'm let in with Dean while Sam is out making calls on his phone to see if we get any leads that way.

"Middle of my shift," a waiter is telling Dean and me, "there's Marty falling down, clutching his head, stroking out right there on the floor, sweating, turning red, like...like..."

"Like his brains were boiling?" asks Dean. The waiter looks mortified.

"Was there anything else unusual?" I ask a bit gentler.

"More unusual than our head waiter dropping dead in front of me?"

"Before that."

"I don't know, I mean I thought getting two hookers in here was pretty damn unusual, but that was before Marty keeled over."

"Uh, two hookers?" asks Dean.

"Based on what they were wearing, yeah."

"Were they alone?" I ask.

"No. Came in with a lady."

"Thank you for your time," I say politely. Dean and I head outside to see what Sam's found. "So, it looks like our witch was here with two new friends," I tell my younger brother.

"Really? Raul's girls? What does she want with them?"

"I don't know," Dean admits. "What'd you get from the Hunter Network?"

"This guy Darrell's been working a case, a series of grisly hotel murders one at the Kensington, another at the Waldorf in Cleveland—bodies stabbed, impaled on the ceiling."

"Sounds a little more homicidal maniac than witchy," I comment.

"That's what Darrell thought, too, until the autopsy came back. Actual cause of death—"

"Let me guess," says Dean, "boiled brains."

"Same as our waiter," I murmur.

"Well, I'll give it to this witch—she's got deep pockets. The Kensington, the Waldorf, this restaurant—that can't be cheap."

"Yeah. Let's get." I start heading for the Impala.

"Where we going?"

"We gotta check out every five-star hotel in the area. Best way to find our witch and her posse. Just gotta hope we pick the right one in the first few tries. Sam, fire up the laptop and see what hotels are in the area."

"Whoa, who died and made you captain?" Dean teases.

"We gotta find this witch. Who knows what she's doing with those girls?" I open the back door of the car. "Well, come on!"

My brothers exchange looks before complying.