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She remembers that day clearly, when Dean told her, and she thought he was crazy, that she’d misunderstood on a fundamental level who he was.
The phone sits in her hand, her fingers curled loosely around the plastic, and she thinks about what he told her, about her father, about Clayton both dying under the same, completely unexplainable circumstances. One set of tire tracks, and a wrecked car in both circumstances; two pieces of a puzzle that will not connect.
It’s fucking insane, the more she rolls it over in her mind. The cops are no help because this is on the wrong side of weird for anyone to take seriously, but Cassie can’t ignore it.
Her father’s car was wrecked, and she doesn’t have to be a crime scene investigator to see that the tire tracks don’t match up to the damage to the car - to how her dad wound up dead.
Dean had said he hunted monsters. Said it to her so quietly; and for someone as big as he is, she doesn’t think she’d seen him look so small, doesn’t think she’d seen him so scared.
He’s all muscle, big and strong, and he holds himself like he’s 10 years older than his body, which has the marks and wounds of someone who’s seen more than any person should.
He’d brushed it off, when she’d asked him the first time; why his skin is like a patchwork quilt of old scars to new scars. Could never explain it the second or the third time either until he told her.
But if he’s right, if she’s right and something happened to her father, then she needs to call him. He’s the only one who she can possibly think of who won’t brush her off.
The wind howls again, rips through the awning outside and it hits the side of the house hard enough that Cassie flinches, the tea cup rattles on the table next to her. She feels as though she’s aged a millennium through this day alone, all her reserves are running out, her father is dead and so is Clayton and the only thing she has is an uncooperative mayor, one set of tire tracks and the body of her father that she still has to bury.
It feels ridiculous to even consider it - a monster, or a spirit or whatever it was Dean had said, but... nothing else is making sense either.
She presses dial, holds it in her hand for a second longer before she presses it to her ear.
She hopes he answers, hopes he doesn’t in the same breath; wants to hear his voice again, and just wants to listen, no conversation - just wants to let the thick roughness of his voice wash over her.
No thinking about the fact he might be right, that monsters might exist and that her father got caught on the wrong side of one and that she will wake up tomorrow and her father will still be dead. Just her, and Dean and old love she can’t help but long for.
The phone rings and rings, and to be fair it is late, and she has no idea where he is or what he’s doing but it rings out to the voice machine and his voice hits her like a slap to the face.
It’s a little deeper than she remembers, a little rougher, a little more weary but it’s unmistakably him.
She waits for the beep and takes a breath, holds it, for a moment, mulling the words she needs to use.
“Dean,” she says, and feels like a fool.
“It’s Cassie, I know this is crazy but I need you to come to Cape Girardeau. Something’s happened here, my father, he died last night nothing is making sense and then I thought about what you told me and I...” she trails off for a second as the wind howls again, and something falls over outside, the crash rattles through her. She grips the phone tighter.
“I think it might be something you can help with. I don’t know who else can help.”
She tears the phone from her ear and slams the button to hang up, tosses it to the side and runs a hand over her face.
It’s to fucking much all at once; her dad’s mysterious death, the similarities between the way he died and the way Clayton died, the thought that monsters might be real, that her ex-boyfriend may honest to god be a fucking monster hunter and that she might be caught up in the middle of one.
Her mother is in her room, hasn’t come out in hours, and in the morning, probably won’t come out then.
Maybe it’s stupid, to hope that someone can come in and explain everything to her that doesn’t make sense, that maybe Dean would be the one to do that, but she needs something right now, and that may be all she has.