The file for Gordon Walker was surprisingly light. Bereft of any information for the last ten years, the only important information to be found within the manila folder is her sister's name, Clarissa Walker. Still, her name and the information he had of the episode, however shallow it was, were enough to handle Gordon.
By the next morning, Irwin had left the plane and arrived near Red Lodge using a fairly expensive rental car. The town itself was quite large, not unlike Lisbon Valley. The highway road divided up the downtown area where a couple of fast-food chains had set up their business. He turned to the left where, further up the hill, was the Candler County Hospital.
Although he had mapped out the general format of the specific episode, there was some lapse in his memory. In his defense, the show had 327 forty-minute episodes spanning fifteen years. So, he'll do his best to supplement it with his real world experience. Also, for a fan like him, it would be remiss to not visit a few attractions along the way.
The fairly primitive hospital soon came into view, neatly hidden behind a small packet of trees. He parked the car in a vacant slot and walked towards the entrance.
Clad in his neat black suit and navy blue tie, Irwin strode confidently inside the hospital and found his way towards the morgue. To his expectation, a black-haired morgue assistant was trying to busy himself on a computer.
Irwin smiled, pieces of the show being shovelled back to the forefront of his memories. "Morning. Agent Cravensworth. FBI," He quickly flashed his badge, just enough for the man to see his picture and the name, before putting it back into his suit pocket. "I'm here to inspect the body of a female decapitation victim found a few days ago."
"Oh, god. Uh, sure. No, can I call my supervisor first?" The man replied frantically. It seems that he had been admonished after his encounter with the Winchesters.
"Absolutely." Irwin confirmed. It was not too long after that he was allowed to go in and saw the headless body of the vampire. Using a latex glove, he pried away the lips and used his other hand to force the fang out. With an almost giddy expression, Irwin summoned his system.
[ Character | Skill | Supernatural Record | Status | Quest | Trade Shop ]
'Trade Shop'
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[Please Select And Specify The Item You Wish To Trade]
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He placed his hand firmly on the woman's forehead.
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[Trade Accepted]
[Trade List Incoming...]
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Without further ado, a list revealed itself to him. There was nothing exciting on the list, but it was the fact that he had not summoned it since his altercation with the witch Agatha, nearly a month ago, that made him happy. He quickly chose another scroll of Sancus Corpus Protectoris.
With the scroll in the Trade Counter, he absconded the morgue but not before asking for the second cheapest motel in the area, one that doesn't any questions.
He knew that the Winchesters had already left the town, and even if he could track and intercept them, he wouldn't have anything to say except for how much he had wanted to meet them. Or how star struck he is now that they're in your presence.
But, much to his utter surprise, he spotted a familiar black Impala hanging around in the parking lot of the cheap motel.
"Oh, just my luck," He muttered. Really, he thought, 'Is it me or am I getting lucky?'
He drove over and parked next to the Impala. His eyes gazing over the midnight hue of such a spectacular car. Although his car is arguably better in every sense of the term, he had grown to love the vehicle over his last ten years of viewership. "Oh, baby."
As soon as his feet touched the paved ground, his hands had already grazed the exterior of the black car. From the window, he could see the green army man, the scratches along the car window, and the wrinkly suits they wear to con some law enforcement.
"I'd pay a million dollars just to own this shit." He muttered in amazement, hands caressing the hood of the car.
"Well, I'm afraid I ain't selling!" A gruff voice came out of nowhere, startling Irwin from his borderline worshiping of the car.
'Holy shit!' He screamed in his mind as he gazed upon the mortal form of a slightly banged-up Dean Winchester. He calmed down within a second before greeting the man. "Morning. I was just admiring the car. Although I do like to get a hold of this beauty."
"Listen, man. I don't have time to buy what you're selling. We were just gonna leave," Dean, clad in his usual plaid shirt over a jacket in mid-autumn, waved Irwin off.
Irwin chuckled, his hand reaching for his business card. "I'm here for you, actually. Bobby Singer said that you boys ought to call him before he shoots you in the head."
Dean was in the middle of packing his bag on the trunk of the impala when he looked back with a curious gaze. "Son of a bitch! What, Bobby's sending prep-douches to get me on the phone?"
"Yeah, basically," Irwin chuckled, agreeing with the man's description of him. "I'm Richard."
Dean gazed at Irwin's hands and smirked, "Dean Winchester and that," He pointed towards an incoming large man, "-Is my brother, Sam."
The tall man scrunched up his face as he looked towards Irwin. "Uh, hey. Who are you?"
"Richard of the California Greythornes." He revealed his full name and, much to his expectation, saw Dean put up his guard.
"Oh, yeah. I heard about your clan from Bobby. I saw from a news clip that your uncle died?" His brother, however, seems fully cognizant of the man's friendly demeanor. "Was he the werewolf?"
"Yes, he was." Irwin confirmed, walking towards Sam Winchester with gusto and holding out his hands. "I've heard much about your father from mine. He was the one who actually suggested the truce."
"He did?" Sam replied with a quizzical tone, taking the hand. As far as he knows, his father neither had the mercy nor time to set up a complicated agreement, more so with one party being a powerful monster clan. "That doesn't sound like him."
"Yeah. If I were him, I'd just kill all of you in one big swoop!" added in his butch brother, Dean.
Irwin smiled at their responses. Of course, Dean would be hostile to him. His beloved father had just been killed by Azazel. It would take a few more years until he gets over that fact and start seeing monster hunting as more than black and white.
Sam scoffed at his brother's attitude. "Sorry about that. Dean's just a little-"
"That's alright. I heard about your father," Irwin waved off his apology, tilting his head in pity. "Listen, that's why I'm also here."
This time, it was Dean who spoke first. "You know something about that yellow-eyed bastard?"
"Yes," He confirmed as his gaze quickly noted the ray of hope burning within the brothers' eyes. He procured a small stick from his pocket. "This USB has all the info you need on the guy. Just a reminder, demons have a way of knowing things. Landlines, phones, internet, everything. Be very careful with disseminating information. If possible, only use handwritten paper and single pages only!"
His severe warnings brought thunder within the boy's heart. Hope and dread both swirling in conflict as they receive the USB stick. Sam nodded sternly as he gazed at Irwin with a new light, while his brother, Dean, merely clenched his fist in excited revenge.
"How do we know whatever is inside this stick it is real?" Dean was suspicious of Irwin's generosity.
"That's a fair question." Sam added.
"Because you're not the only one who's concerned about the yellow-eyed demon," Irwin told the partial truth. "If he accomplishes his goals, then we're all fucked. This is a war, boys. Not just yours, everyone's!"
The brothers shared a concerned look before Sam nodded in gratitude, showing off his puppy-dog eyes. "Thank you, really. We're grateful for the help."
Irwin can't help but chuckle at the sight, but quickly followed through with another set of warnings. "It's not free, Winchesters. I have a list of things you two need to follow in exchange for that stick."
Dean slammed the trunk door close, his feet slowly bringing him towards Irwin. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"
"First, don't say the yellow-eyed demon's name. Never, not even in your sleep. Names have powers." He started, causing the boys to exchange curious looks.
"Done." Dean said.
"Second, if you-" He pointed to Sam. "-have any premonition regarding any of your kind, call me immediately!" He then gave each of them his business card.
"What do you mean by that?" Asked Dean, confused about the whole thing. "Are you having visions again?"
"What? No! I haven't had any since Max." Sam defended. "How do you know about-"
"It's all in the USB stick." Irwin preempted. "Third, if you have any problems with monsters or each other, call me. I can help!"
Dean snickered, "And why should we call your for help, teen wolf?"
"Because It's better than calling a washed-up alcoholic hunter!" Irwin replied.
Dean's smirk vanished, his fist already clenched in anger, flew through the air and hit Irwin's cheek.
The punch was fast, predictable but, given Irwin's position, unavoidable. The first hit skin, then the lower jaw, sending Irwin to skid off a few meters. He nearly stumbled to the ground, but found a stable footing by latching onto his car.
"I just got punched by Dean fucking Winchester! Awesome!" Irwin muttered, a huge smile upon his bloodied face. Now that he made Dean say his catchphrase and hit him in the face, Irwin was satisfied with the encounter and brought it to a close. "I apologize for my words. Clearly, the man means something to you!"
"Hell yeah, he does!" Dean launches one more punch, but his brother stopped him from further assault.
"Hey! Hey! That's enough, that's enough!" Sam embraced his brother in a futile attempt to restrain him. "He apologized!"
"Get off me!" Dean shrugged his brother off. His glare remaining as he entered the Impala.
"Look, I would appreciate it if you don't insult Bobby." Sam said diplomatically.
"I know. I'm sorry too." Irwin replied, still a huge grin on his face. "Just keep in mind my rules. It'll help you in the long run."
"I will. Again, thank you for the information regarding the yellow-eyed demon." Sam then took off to the passenger side of the Impala.
"Hey, before you go. I heard from Ellen that you were dealing with Gordon Walker." The boys, for the umpteenth time during this conversation, looked at each other.
"Yeah, we tied him up somewhere." Dean smirked.
"Considering I just gave you the only bit of information you have regarding your father's killer, do you mind if you tell me where you tied him up?"
●●●Vampire's Nest●●●
Gordon Walker swore that today would just be a normal day. All he had to do was hunt the motherfucking vampires one by one. He already pegged their location, their jobs, their diets, everything they had and will ever do.
But the Winchesters had to stand on his way, talking about good vampires and vegan vampires. As far as he knew, every bloodsucker out there, regardless if they had fed on anyone, deserves the metal saws of his machete.
In his defense, he never knew that the son of John Winchester would go soft. Hell, the man was so pragmatic in killing these monsters that they couldn't even emit a scream.
"Fuck me, I guess." Gordon sighed, still tied up in the chair; futilely nursing a headache from Dean's punch.
It had been more than an hour since the brothers had left him here to starve and maybe a few more until someone would rescue him. Not that they needed to for he already had a small razor in his hands, steadily but slowly cutting the rope down. Still, it'll probably take a few hours to free him from the fibrous bondage.
A sudden BANG! interrupted his woodworking as an olive-skinned young man with piercing blue eyes nonchalantly entered the room as if walking on a house tour.
"Oh, man! If I hadn't arrived here, you would've been here for days." The young man aroused something primal within Gordon. Something inexplicably dangerous.
"Who the fuck are you?" He asked aggressively. Considering his current predicament, Gordon knew he was at a disadvantage in this encounter. The second time in two days, an unusual streak from him.
"To hunters? I'm their saviour. To monsters? I'm their death. To demons? I'm God's right-hand man," the young man smirked viciously. "To you? I'm a judge, jury, and executioner. So, tell me, Gordon Walker, are you guilty?"