don't F E A R the R E A P E R

[Meghan Winchester]

Meghan Winchester sighed as she moved though the library. This was Sam‘s job, not hers… But whatever. The boys were out doing their own undercover thing, so she was stuck at the library with no car, enough cash to get some food, and the laptop. Great. They still were not sure what they were looking for just yet, so Meghan set out to find all the town‘s urban legends and search the obits for recent deaths. Sometimes she hated her job. But it all had to be done.

She pulled her dark hair into a ponytail and adjusted the straps of her backpack. Sam hated when she put the laptop in her blue Jansport, but he would just have to deal with it. She looked a bit like college kid (which really, if she had not taken off with her brothers three years ago, she would be) although the nearest University was about two hours away. She wore what was normal for her; jeans, boots, and a plain blue zip hoodie over a gray t-shirt. Meghan started searching for books and looking through the obits. A few caught her eye and she went to get them.

She found the aisle one book was in and found it on the top shelf. Brilliant… there was no way someone that was 5‘5“ was going to get that. She looked around and then jumped up, trying to get a small hold of it to she could pull it down. This was going to end in disaster, she could tell. She jumped again, not reaching the book again. She did not see the man walking toward her as she jumped again and finally pulled the book down, along with four others. They toppled onto her and the man walking and she looked at him. “Oh, god I am so sorry!”

[Spencer Cochrane]

He hated hunts in small towns like this. Back home he loved them, but here. Everyone looked at him like he was a freak. The minute he opened his mouth. When he first got to the states almost ten years ago he tried to drop his accent. Now though, it does not matter to him what other people think. He does not bother to try and hide it. It did not bother him, or at least he acted like it didn't, that people looked at him strangely when he walked into these small towns. Every little town had its secrets and it was like the people knew he was there to expose them. That was not really Spencer's intentions. He was simply there to save lives, to fight the things that go bump in the night, to rid the town and the people of their nightmares.

So that's what brought him to this tiny little town in the middle of North Dakota. It was around March and the air outside was still very cold. Spencer parked his Chevelle outside the town's library. He put his on a brown hoodie and over that a black coat before he climbed out of his car and wandered into the library. There had been a string of unusual deaths in this place and Spencer was going to find out why. He looked up some of the obits and was going to check the town's folklore. Check to see if anything matched up. If he did not find anything here he was going to turn to interviewing the locals. They always seemed to know the best stories.

Spencer left his jacket on the chair at the table he was sitting at and wandered down the aisles. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, which was zipped most of the way up, a black t-shirt was underneath. His boots made very little sound on the carpeted floor as he wandered down one of the aisles. He was too busy looking at the books to realize there was someone there. He had no idea he was about to crash into someone until the books landed on his head. Spencer rubbed his head for a moment, glancing down at the young woman who apologized. He studied her for a moment after she apologized.

She certainly did not look like the people in this small town. Maybe a student at the university a couple of hours away, but why would she be here? He looked down and caught a glimpse of a book, opened, there were little notes on there and Spencer looked over them quickly, not really bringing any attention to it. He met her eyes and smiled. "It's all right. Should have been paying more attention to where I was going." He bent down and picked up a couple of the books, then looked up to the top shelf where they were housed. He laughed, not even he was tall enough to reach up there. He looked and next to her was a rolling ladder. She probably did not notice it. He pulled it over and put the books back, holding on to the one he was looking for. "Which one did ya need miss?" He asked quietly, letting his Irish accent add a bit of a melody to his words.