17. Wellington, Ohio

A case involving a pagan god, another involving a little half-human half-demon little boy, and a case involving gambling your years in a game of Poker took us through the end of September, through October, and into November.

Needless to say out of the past three cases, I'd gotten my feet wet with all three of them. So far, the most memorable was where Dean had foolishly gambled so many years against a witch. He'd been deemed "Grandpa Dean" and many more names during that time. Though, for as old as he looked, he was still pretty quick with his comebacks to me. Thankfully, those years were given back to him, and we no longer had to worry about him losing breath after going up a single flight of stairs.

So now, we found ourselves in Wellington, Ohio. It wasn't long before we caught scent of a case. We were prepping in the motel room, I was putting the finishing touches. I made sure everything was straightened out and looking perfect. Today's persona was an FBI agent. Just putting on that act made me feel more like thirty instead of twenty-six.

I examined myself. I looked pretty business-like, not to mention older. Too bad I couldn't hide the bags under my eyes, as I hadn't had the chance to buy some concealer. Nobody ever said anything to me, so I was the only one who really cared about the bags right now. I could thank lack of sleep and a lot of road tripping for that.

I can hear the TV going on through the bathroom door. No doubt Dean was trying to sneak in some TV before we had to take off. I wondered how far back this went for the brothers, the fake IDs and fake identities. How were they ever not caught? They could have been before, I probably don't know it.

I popped out of the bathroom, flattening everything one more time. I saw my heels beside one of the beds. I huffed as I stared the devils down. I hated wearing heels, but they looked too nice to not give in to buying. I regretted them the first time I put them on; I nearly broke my ankle.

My eyes went to the TV. Whatever show Dean had on was strange. It looked like some medical show, judging by the white lab coat and the nurse in blue scrubs. I wrinkled my nose as they got into the elevator and began to make out the moment the doors started to close.

"What are you watching?" I asked in mild disgust.

"Hospital show," Dean said. "Doctor Sexy, MD. I think it's based on a book."

"When did you hit menopause?" Sam teased.

"It's called channel surfing." Dean shut off the TV and got off the bed. Sam went to grab his jacket from the other bed and shrugged it on. "You guys ready?"

"Are you?" I retorted.

Dean grabbed the keys, and we all exited the motel room.

* * *

"One more time," said the officer, "the FBI is here why, exactly?"

"Might have something to do with one of your locals getting his head ripped off," Dean replied.

"Bill Randolph died from a bear attack."

"How sure are you that it was a bear?" I asked.

"What else would it be?"

"Well, whatever it was," Dean said, "it chased Mr. Randolph through the woods, smashed through his front door, followed him up the stairs, and killed him in his bedroom. Is that common, a bear doing all that?"

"Depends on how pissed off it is, I guess. Look, the Randolphs live way up in high country. You got trout runs to make a grown man weep. And bears."

"Right," Sam said. "Now, what about Mrs. Randolph? The file says she saw the whole thing."

"Yes, she did. My heart goes out to the poor woman."

"She said bear," I said questioningly.

"Kathy Randolph went through a hell of a trauma. She's confused."

"What did she say?"

The officer hesitated, like he was almost ashamed to say it aloud to us. She must've seen something that was the farthest thing from an animal.

"We'll just let her tell us herself," I said politely. "Mind showing us the way to her?"

The officer nodded at my request. He got the door open to the interview room for us. I was the first to enter, with the boys in tow. Mrs. Randolph still looked to be in shock, and she was a bit wary at the sight of us. We got ourselves introduced to her. The boys sat in the two seats, I remained standing. The officer shut the door so we could have privacy.

"Mrs. Randolph, the officer out front couldn't give us an answer as to what you claimed you saw," I began thoughtfully. "It would help us a great deal if you told us."

"It would be crazy if I told you."

"Supposedly the news is that it was a bear. Unless it was something else...?"

"No, it must have been a bear," Mrs. Randolph persisted. "I mean, what else could it have been?"

"Mrs. Randolph," Sam took over, "what do you think it was?"

"No, I, I remember clearly now. It was definitely a bear."

"We're sure it was," Dean said, though he hardly sounded convinced. "But see, it helps us to hear every angle. So just tell us what you thought you saw."

"It's impossible, but...I could have sworn I saw...the Incredible Hulk."

"The Incredible Hulk," I repeated slowly.

"I told you it was crazy."

"Bana or Norton?" Dean asked. I gave him a strange look. He didn't strike me as a movie/TV watching kind of guy, not when he and Sam barely stayed in the same motel for more than a day.

"Oh, no, those movies were terrible," Mrs. Randolph said. "The TV Hulk."

"Lou Ferrigno."

"Yes."

"Spiky-hair Lou Ferrigno."

"Yes."

"Huh."

I exchanged looks with the Winchesters. I wasn't sure what shocked me more: the fact that Mrs. Randolph believed she had seen the Hulk or the fact that Dean watched any kind of TV and knew the actor behind the TV Hulk.

"You think I'm crazy," Mrs. Randolph whimpered.

"No. Uh, no, it's just...is there, uh, would there be any reason that Lou Ferrigno, the Incredible Hulk, would have a grudge against your husband?"

"No."

"No," Dean repeated.

This was by far the strangest thing I had heard since becoming a part of this hunting party.

* * *

"There's just no way, though," I said as Sam drove us back to the motel. "I mean...the Hulk is fictional. There's no way she could have actually seen him."

"What could she mistake it for then, Kota? A massive, green grizzly?"

"I don't know. But that hole...is she sure she saw the Hulk or Bigfoot?"

"We'll see what Dean's got when we get there."

Sam parked the Impala and we both got out. When we walked in, Dean was stuck at his laptop. No doubt he was doing research like I was supposed to.

"Hey," Sam said as we got the door closed behind us.

"Find anything?" Dean asked us both.

"Well, uh, we saw the house," I started.

"And?"

"And there is a giant eight-foot-wide hole where the front door used to be. Almost like, uh—"

"A Hulk-sized hole."

"Maybe. What do you got?"

"Well, it turns out that Bill Randolph had quite the temper. He's got two counts of spousal battery, bar brawls, and court-ordered anger management sessions. You might say you wouldn't like him when he's angry."

"So a hothead getting killed by TV's greatest hothead," Sam summarized. "Kinda sounds like just desserts, doesn't it?"

Dean snorted.

"It's all starting to make sense."

"How is it starting to make sense?" I asked.

"Well, we found something else at the crime scene." Sam pulled out a load of candy wrappers we found when looking around the house. There'd been a butt load of them. I hadn't taken any. I wasn't about to have gooey, sticky stuff on my clothes. "Candy wrappers." He dropped them. "Lots of them."

"Just desserts, sweet tooth, screwing with people before you kill 'em—we're dealing with the Trickster, aren't we?" Dean concluded.

"Sure looks like it."

"Good."

"Hold on, let me stop you there," I said. "Fill me in."

"Another time, Dak," Dean told me sternly. "I've wanted to gank that mother since Mystery Spot."

"You sure?" Sam asked him.

"Yeah I'm sure."

"No, I mean are you sure you wanna kill him?"

"Son of a bitch didn't think twice about icing me a thousand times."

I wasn't sure if I wanted to know their history with this Trickster guy, being, whatever the hell he was considered. He definitely didn't sound like someone to mess with if he—did I hear this right?—killed Dean more than once.

I'd have to ask Sam about the history, just for something to go by.

"I'm just saying—" Sam tried.

"What are you saying?" Dean retorted. "If you don't want to kill him, then what?"

"Talk to him?"

I looked at Sam oddly as Dean asked, "What?"

"Think about it, Dean. He's one of the most powerful creatures we've ever met. Maybe we can use him."

"For what?" I butted in.

"Okay, Trickster's like a Hugh Hefner type, right? Wine, women, song—"

"Where are you going with this, Sam?" I said in a warning tone.

"Relax, Kota. Maybe he doesn't want the party to end. Maybe he hates this angels and demons stuff as much as we do. Maybe he'll help us."

"You're serious," Dean deadpanned.

"Yeah."

"Ally with the Trickster."

"Yeah."

"A bloody, violent monster, and you wanna be Facebook friends with him? Nice, Sammy."

"The world is gonna end, Dean. We don't have the luxury of a moral stand. Look, I'm just saying it's worth a shot. That's all. If it doesn't work, we'll kill him."

I snorted. Wonderful logic.

Dean sighed. "How are we gonna find the guy, anyway?"

"Well, he never takes one victim, right?" Sam said. "He'll show."

Since we weren't going out to hunt this Trickster guy, Sam turned on a police scanner while Dean went to sharpening a wooden stake. I stuck near Sam, Dean's words ran through my head. Son of a bitch didn't think twice about icing me a thousand times.

"Dean's got a real vendetta against this guy, doesn't he?" I whispered to Sam.

"I would too..."

"So what happened back at Mystery Spot, whatever that is?"

"Long story short, the Trickster made us relive enough Tuesdays and made me witness almost every single possible way on earth someone could die. Each time, Dean...died, the day would start over. The same song would play on the station. Things would go about as they always did, always so predictable. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop it."

"But how did it end, eventually?"

"I think you've heard enough, Kota, enough to know that the Trickster isn't some average monster we're going after."

My mouth parted a little. "I can't imagine how that must've been, Sam." I picked at my nails. "To go through that..." I shook my head. I gingerly touched his arm.

"Um, Dispatch?" the scanner crackled. "I got a possible one-eighty-seven out here at the old paper mill on Route Six?"

"Hey," Sam said to Dean. Dean stopped sharpening the stake to listen.

"Roger that," came Dispatch. "What are you looking at there, son?"

"Honestly, Walt, I, I wouldn't even know how to describe what I'm seeing. Just—send everybody."

"All right, stay calm, stay by your car. Help's on the way."

I turned off the scanner. We all looked at each other.

"That sounds weird," Dean noted.

"Weird enough to be our guy," said Sam.

**Yes, I skipped a few episodes. It was necessary. As I said in the Author's Note, this book would be LONGER than it already is. But I didn't want to cut them out entirely. A sentence summary worked with them nicely.

And now we're beginning one of my favorite episodes of season 5! Like always, Kota is about ready to meet some more...interesting characters.**