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luci-in-trenchcoats · 7 years

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Hunting Ground (Part 1)

Summary: When murders resembling those from a known serial killer start occurring in a sleepy little town, reader is called in to investigate. The prime suspect, Dean Winchester, is adamant that he’s innocent but reader isn’t so sure he hasn’t gone back to his old ways...

Teaser

Pairing: suspect!Dean x cop!reader

Word Count: 2,700ish

Warnings: language, murder

A/N: I hope you enjoy this first part of Hunting Ground. More to come...

“If you like pina coladas, and gettin’ caught in the rain,” you sang, bopping your head along as you drove down the deserted road. “If you’re not into yoga, if have half a brain,” you said, turning the volume up louder. “If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes on the -shit!” you said, hitting the brakes as a group of deer ran out in front of you.

You took a deep breath as they stopped and stared at you, like what the fuck were you doing on their road. You honked the horn of your rental car and they took off into the woods. You saw a sign a little ways down that there was a deer crossing that made you scowl.

“You’re in the middle of fucking nowhere now, Y/N. Got to remember there’s moose and coyotes and shit out here,” you said, driving along the road again, tall trees on either side making you wonder why the Hell anyone would ever choose to come out here unless they were forced to against their will. God knew that was the only reason you were.

It was a great opportunity you were told, a stepping stone to move up the ladder more quickly. You’d practically sprinted up that fucking ladder already. You could use a moment to catch your breath if you were being honest. Technically this was completely within your job description and your capabilities. Technically you were also supposed to be on a plane headed to Hawaii for three weeks of relaxing but ya know, fucking serial killers fucking with your vacation plans.

“Have to fucking murder that too don’t you asshole,” you muttered, rain starting to spit on your windshield. “Oh, if that isn’t fucking lovely and not some cute guy handing me alcohol with an umbrella in it.”

Clenching the steering wheel you reminded yourself to let it go and focus on the case. You spotted a sign, hoping that town was close so you could settle in and get a chance to look over your case files again.

Hunting Ground - 57 Miles

“With a name like that, no wonder a murderer moved into town,” you said, reaching for your cold cup of coffee. “Let’s just hope you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

“Oh! Hi!” said the bored out of her mind teenager when you walked into the small lobby. You glanced around at the filthy space and hid your shudder. You were definitely dousing your room in bleach.

“Hi. I need a room, not sure how long I’ll be here just yet,” you said, digging through your bag for your credit card.

“Sorry, we only take cash,” she said. Yup, sleeping in the car for the next few weeks sounded better than whatever disease you were picking up from your bed. “$50.”

“A night? That’s not too-”

“A week,” she said, you head tilting. “We haven’t had many guests lately so we dropped prices. On account of the murder.”

Maybe she shouldn’t be telling her guests that someone was killed her and they wouldn’t have a problem with retaining them.

“Yeah, I heard about that,” you said, pulling out a hundred from your wallet and handing it over. She caught site of your badge and her eyes went wide. “I’m investigating the deaths around town. I may want to talk to you about the first victim, Cindy Parish.”

“I already talked to the cops,” she said, her cheeriness evaporating. “I told them everything I know.”

“Fine,” you said, digging your notepad from your bag. “You won’t mind telling me again then and I won’t say anything about the boy you have in that back office to the manager of this place who I suspect is your mother. How’s that sound?” you said, offering her a smile that was anything but sweet. She grabbed the door just behind her and closed it, absentmindedly fixing her shirt where it’d started to be unbuttoned by another pair of hands.

“She checked in around eight, went to Trapper’s, the local dive bar, for a drink and some food. She came back around eleven with a local, Dean Winchester, to screw is my guess. He left sometime in the middle of the night and she was found just after nine in the morning by my mom. It was...bad in there,” she said. You looked around again, realizing this seventeen year old was probably trying to run this place herself at the moment. You could try the softer approach with her.

“This guy, Dean Winchester, did you see him leave?” you asked but she shook her head.

“No. I mean...they were pretty loud. She was screaming a lot, nothing coherent. I thought they were just having sex but apparently he was killing her,” she said, shaking her head to erase the memory from her brain. “Can we stop please?”

“Sure, that’s all I need. Can you show me my room?” you asked, watching a smile on her face as she got to do something normal. She handed you the keys after guiding you outside and to the room farthest away from the one with yellow tape covering the door. Staying in the same place as your first victim wasn’t exactly where you wanted to be but at least it’d make getting to the crime scene easy.

There were two queen beds, a small TV and a beat up kitchenette but at least the bathroom was clean and there were only two weird stains on the floor. By the time you’d dragged in your bags and unpacked, you were starving. The clock said it was close to eight and after driving all day the last thing you wanted was to stare at bloody photos.

Well...there wouldn’t be any umbrella’s in the drinks but at least you knew a place to get one now. You slipped into a pair of heels but sighed. Even if they were nice and had proven to be lucky time and time again, they weren’t ideal. You never knew when you might have to chase after someone. Your hiking boots it was then.

After three minutes of walking on the uneven sidewalk down main street you were glad for choosing to be sensible for once. Even so, you hadn’t expected to have the door held up for you by a guy in a trucker hat when you got to the bar. You thanked him but walked in to find an ocean of flannel before your eyes. You caught a few glances and you couldn’t stop the eyebrow raise from happening.

You went past and found a quiet spot at the end of the bar where you asked for a menu. There wasn’t much variety but you examined the menu like you’d forgotten how to read, hoping to catch the attention of the man sat a few seats down around the bend of the bar. But he didn’t pay you any attention. When you opened your mouth to ask him for a recommendation he stood, giving you a smile and slapping some money down, leaving before you could say a word.

“What can I get you?” asked the bartender. You ordered a burger and Jack & coke, grumbling to yourself. You’d finished it and were halfway done with your second by the time your food was ready. You ate a little too aggressively but he’d been right there.

Dean Winchester, suspect number one. The only suspect in all of this. You knew why they’d assigned you to this case. You were just his type. A perfect temptation for the killer. Only word in a town this small would spread fast that you were a cop and there went your chance of luring him in.

At least the burger was good.

“Ugh,” you groaned, slapping away at your phone as the alarm started to go off. “No. Sleep more.”

About ten minutes later you finally dragged yourself out of bed, and into the shower, alarmed at how much hot water you had. Then again you were the only person staying there at the moment. You made a crappy cup of coffee as you walked over to your clothes, pulling on jeans and a flannel. You shoved your badge in your back pocket and your gun tucked into your pants. You were going to blend in like a local as long as possible in your opinion. Plus the excuse to get out of that black suit for once was a dream come true.

You reviewed the case files once more while you sipped on your caffeine, letting yourself get your fix, occasionally munching on handfuls of the box of cheerios you’d packed. You weren’t the biggest fan of the reports by the Hunting Ground Police Department. Not that they weren’t good but they were assuming Dean Winchester was your killer. All signs pointed to him but you needed impartial eyes on this thing if you were going to be fully convinced that he’d done it.

Two hours later you were sitting in your car, rolling your eyes at the brick building in front of you. The whole Dean Winchester being uncooperative for follow ups was definitely not in your files. Maybe you’d try your own luck if it came to that.

“Lunch and then time to remember how to go hiking.”

You were sweating and panting by the time you got up to the cabin where the third victim was found. Why was it so fucking hot out? You thought the woods were supposed to be cooler or some shit. You took a long drink of water as you looked around. It was isolated up there, much more so than the motel. It made sense after all. The first vic the killer needed it, couldn’t wait to take them somewhere else. Cindy didn’t know it but she’d gotten off easy. The other two got half days in quiet cabins where a whole slew of skin crawling shit went down.

You breathed through your mouth as you bent through the tape and went inside. There was some dried blood in places but the boot print caught your eye. That wasn’t in the photos and hadn’t been noted as an exclusion by one of the officers. You squatted next to it and placed your own beside it. Definitely a male from the size. The tread wasn’t helpful as you hadn’t seen anyone in this town wear anything but boots but at least you had one more bit of information. Most of the evidence you’d already examined at the station and the lab reports definitely had come back negative for any DNA.

Walking around you saw the chair that had been used, the same MO as all the others. There were always copy cats but the one thing they’d never revealed to the public was the water bottle he left with the victim. The one in the room he’d trapped his victim in, allowing them a means of escape from the chair but nothing else, the water too much to resist. It sealed their fate every single time. That was when he really started his fucked up-

A gunshot rang out nearby and you drew your weapon, pointing at the door. A second one went off and you heard two mean holler about some poor animal they’d just killed. You relaxed and poked your head out the door, watching two men cut through some trees with a fox on their backs.

You sighed and went back inside, looking over everything but not finding anything useful beyond what you already knew. Slipping your backpack on you headed back down the trail, heading back before the sun went down. You heard a fox whimper before darting out in front of you. It growled a little but you weren’t afraid. In fact you felt sorry for it as it whimpered again and took off in search of it’s friend.

“Sorry buddy,” you said, walking a ways as the poor thing scrambled back and forth. “People suck, trust me I-”

You fell back on the ground, your bag taking most of the impact but you were on guard as you looked up and saw Dean Winchester towering over you.

“You should watch where you’re going,” he said, holding out a hand. You hesitated to take it and he rolled his eyes. You popped up on your own, watching his eyes wander over to the cabin and then back at you. “What are you doing out here?”

“None of your business,” you said, distancing yourself from him, all while keeping him in your sights. He scoffed and crossed his arms.

“You know that’s a crime scene right? I wouldn’t be fucking around in there if I were you,” he said. How the fuck did he know you’d been in there? Unless he was watching you of course...

“Well since I’m investigating this case, it’s probably a good idea if I check out the actual crime scene. How about you tell me what you’re doing up here,” you said, backing away from him. He nodded his head and relaxed his arms, giving you a dark smile.

“So you know all about me then, don’t you,” said Dean. He eyed you up and down but you kept your cool. He was big, bigger than you expected. If it came to it you could take him. It wouldn’t be a pretty fight though. “You’re looking at the wrong guy.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Winchester,” you said, lifting your head and cocking your head in that ‘don’t mess with me’ way. “What are you doing up here?”

“Hiking,” said Dean. “Not much to do around here except go fucking hiking ya know.”

“You always go hiking with a shotgun?” you asked, nodding at the one slung over his shoulder. Dean rolled his eyes and walked towards you. You moved to the side but Dean did his best to make sure he shoved you as he went past. “Answer the question.”

“When a psychopath is on the loose, yeah, I walk around with some protection. Want to see my permit Ranger Rick?” he asked, spinning around. “Watch yourself Officer whatever.”

“Officer Y/N Y/L/N to you,” you said, reaching your hand behind your back, trying to worm your hand between your heavy bag and to get at your gun. “Pro tip, don’t threaten cops.”

“Pro tip, sweetheart,” said Dean, walking in front of you and leaning down over you. “Don’t keep your gun somewhere you can’t get it in time. You’d be fucked if I was the asshole you’re looking for. Good thing I’m not.”

“I’d back up unless you want this to get messy, Dean,” you said, finally fishing your gun out as he backed away.

“The more time you waste investigating me the more time he has to find his next victim,” said Dean, heading down the path away from you fast.

“Don’t leave town Winchester,” you said, Dean giving you a wave with a angry smile before you saw him disappear into the trees.

You sighed as you looked at your gun in your hand and then all around. That could have been really fucking bad. He had a shot at you just then and didn’t take it. But the way he had looked at you...Dean Winchester was becoming more of a suspect every second in your mind. You knew he’d been the officer on the case previously but that was about it. It was time to learn what secrets that man was hiding before-

Someone was whistling. It was close but not close enough for you to tell where exactly they were. The ordinarily happy tune, apparently another fan of the pina colada song, shouldn’t have made goosebumps breakout over your hot and flush skin. Someone had to have been watching you from the way the hairs stood up on the back of your neck. You kept your gun out as you jogged down the path and in the direction of your car.

Getting back to town and out of Dean Winchester’s territory was suddenly the only thing on your mind.

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

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