Chapter Text
Black tires screeched to a stop as the old light guarding the town turned straight from green to red. Phil groaned, as this added just another minute to his trip, and he was so ready to just get to the Kingston police station, and start working, he had travelled over 600 miles for this case, and he needed to stretch his legs and kill some ghosts.
Phil Lester was a hunter, no, not a bambi hunter, those who believe their tough because they took down a defenseless animal, but a hunter of the things that go bump in the night. His father had been a hunter, and he had taken after his footsteps after he had died sixteen years ago, relying on his “uncle” Bobby Singer, to show him the ropes, and to go on hunts with him, as he had been fourteen at the time.
He had travelled all the way to kingston, after he had read the paper, and saw the pastor had been brutally murdered in his own home, ripped literally form shred to shred. Phil had almost looked past it, usually spirits that angry had a personal feud with the deceased, meaning no one else would be in harm's way, and most likely it would be gone, until he saw the pastor had an eighteen year old son, who had been away when it had happened.
Phil had never heard of a personal spirit leaving close family alone, and the pastor's wife died in childbirth, so most likely, this kid was in danger, and Phil couldn't just let it happen when he saw the picture of the pastor and his son, who had brilliant, innocent brown eyes. So here he was, now taking off once the light was green, and travelling into kingston.
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The first thing Phil noticed, was the sidewalks were empty. Every single picture Phil had ever seen of Kingston, people were walking to their destinations, enjoying the sun, it was august, so it wasn’t cold, so most likely, people were too afraid to walk, too afraid of to them, who might have done this.
The police station was small only fifteen or so cars all together in the parking lot. It was a white and grey building, with steps leading up to it. Phil sighed looking out of his car, and then grabbing the secret box of fake badges out of the storage compartment, and placing it in his coat pocket.
He walked up to the door, and pulled it open, immediately getting hit with the smell of cinnamon and coffee. A tall lady sat at the desk, flipping through files, until she heard the bell ring and looked up. She had long brown hair, and what appeared to be grey eyes, and stood at at least 6’0. She had a kind smile on her face as he walked up to the desk, and he couldn't help but give her a grin as he pulled out the badge.
“I'm here with the fbi to handle the pastor case.” he said, looking at her before putting his badge away.
She grew a sad smile on her face, before nodding. “The chief's office is right through that door to the left, last door, let me know if you need anything.” She said, before looking back down to her papers, as Phil walked to the office door, heaving a sigh before knocking a few times.
“Come in.” Called a woman's voice, and Phil slowly turned the handle, walking in, to be met with a shorter lady, with a blonde ponytail, and green eyes. She wore a smile, but it seemed tense, and her eyes did not match the light in her smile.
“what can i do for you?” She asked, looking over Phil before sitting down in her chair, and crossing her arms.
Phil once again pulled out his badge, showing it to her, before putting it away and saying “My name is Garrett O'brien, i'm with the FBI, I've been sent to work on the pastor case.”
Just as the other woman at the desk, her smile turned sad as he mentioned the case, like they were close friends, and judging the size of the town, they probably were. It seemed like everyone around this place was in a sour and sad mood.
“I see, well, what do you need?” She asked, looking at him. She appeared content that someone else would be taking over on the dirty parts of the case, and maybe he felt the smallest hint of regret.
“I need the original file case, and a pass to the scene, alone.” He said looking at her. Hopefully she wouldn't question it, and he would be granted both.
The lady nodded, writing something on a sticky note, before placing it on a huge file of papers, and handing him a privilege badge. She then held out her hand.
“My name is deputy Garden, come to me if you need anything, or the lady who took you in the front. And please,” she cut off with a short break, an Phil prepared himself for a sob story, before she surprised him, her eyes a sad grey as she finished. “-find whoever did this, whatever did this, please bring this case justice. We’ll be here to help in anyway you need.” Before she sat down, giving him a final nod as a farewell.
Phil walked out of her office, exiting the station before walking to his car, his prized possession, his 1970, Pontiac GTO. It was a classic two door, matte black. He called her Baby, and whoever dared to talk down to his car was sure to receive a few broken ribs. He got in, not bothering to put on his seatbelt as he started the car and began driving to the pastors house.
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Mrs. Garden had called him two miles into the drive to warn him the pastors eighteen year old son was at the house, and was willing to answer questions, but asked that he wouldn't be showed a picture of the body, his son had been the one to find him, and he couldn't unsee it.
When he pulled into the driveway, he noticed this was the picket fence house, a white fence around a big front yard, with an oak tree in the front yard, and a white and gold front door, with a wreath with a scripture engrave into the log in the center.
“Wow, this is what i was missing.” he mumbled to himself, as he got out of the car and went to knock on the door. He honestly felt very unholy surrounded by the garden Angels glaring at him beside the garden of Lilys in the front.
He stood on the doorstep for a minute, before the door was opening, and the son stood in front of him. Phils first thought was that pictures do not give him justice.
He stood probably around 5’6, short for a dude but nothing drastic. He had brown hair, that was in a curly mess upon his head, like he couldn't be bothered to brush it, and Phil didn't blame him. His eyes were a bit of a darker brown than his hair, and the sadness in them made Phil feel a little sick, he knew this was how Bobby must have seen him, why he said it hurt so much to watch him grow without his father.
The boy looked up at Phil's 6’2 frame with distrust, before most likely remembering that Mrs. Garden had told him he was stopping by.
“Are you Mr. O'brien?” The boy asked, shyly standing in the doorway.
Phil nodded “That's me, you must be..” cmon Phil, you read it. “Daniel.” He finished looking at the boy to make sure that he was correct.
Daniel nodded, before stepping back and opening the door farther so that Phil could step inside.
“I found him in his bedroom.” He spoke softly, like as if saying it loud and clearly made it real. Phil could understand that. “His, his insides were, well, outside.. and he was still warm, which really scared me, whoever could have still been here, i could have been killed the same way. But i wasn't?” he said, before shaking his head and making his way up the stairs, looking back to make sure that Phil was following him.
He led him to the upstairs level, and down the hallway, before stopping on the second door to the right. He then took a deep breath, before opening it up.
Inside the walls were a beige coffee creme kind of color, perhaps with more yellow undertones, there was a large bed in the middle of the room, with a brown comforter and three or four white and red pillows. A nightstand stood on the left side, and a dresser ln the right of the room. A huge white sliding door stood in the corner, obviously the closet door, and the room slowly turned into a thin hallway, leading into a bathroom that appeared to be the same color.
In the middle of the room, a huge red stain laid across the white carpet, clearly the police haven't finished reviewing it yet.
He heard Daniels breath hitch, and he turned to him. “Hey, if this gets too much, just tell me kid, don't worry about staying here just to help.”
Daniel nodded, but didn't leave, heading to the bed and sitting on the edge.
Phil looked around the room, usually if it was a spirit, something would have emf.
he turned to Daniel again “Would you mind getting me some water?” He asked turning back. Daniel nodded looking happy to leave this room, as he stepped out and went downstairs.
Phil hurriedly pulled out the small contraption, before he turned it toward the wall, peeking through the room. Just as he was about to lose hope that this was a spirit, a pissed off one at that, the machine spiked setting of a loud beeping sound, as he passed the closet.
He heard Dan rummaging inside the kitchen, so he figured it was safe as he opened up the closet door. It smelled of cinnamon, and the clothes all looked ironed and clean.
He rummaged around, passing things with the device before itg spiked yet again, over a box hidden at the back of the closet, he was beginning to lift up the lid and peek inside, when Dan's voice sounded from behind him.
“What the hell are you doing?”