#echospringsstarter

“Bring it.” He murmured, so quietly he could barely hear himself.  

In spite of his frankly uncanny ability to get into mischief, he had never actually been to the scene of a crime. He still hadn’t, which was clear as he continued to wade between the trees, steel baseball bat strapped to the side of his bag. Maybe it was the bodies, ostensibly that was it and although he had no more knowledge than any of the law enforcement, he understood what a new pair of eyes could do for any case. It definitely wasn’t the dreams haunting him of sprinting through the underbrush, adrenaline-filled, followed and surrounded by some kind of snarling things. They were hazy most of the time but the ones he remembered clearly showed an entirely different forest, somewhere less lush and green. 

Often he was tackled, carefully to the floor in a topsy-turvy haze of giggles and banter. The others... he got a far more personal and in-depth viewing of the inside of his own diaphragm than he had ever wanted. Classic nightmare fare. So of course, into the woods. He wouldn’t have said no to some magic beans right around then, or that basket for Grandma. The satellite radio at his hip pinged his location once every eight minutes or so. He was just under a mile from the jeep after moving through the forest in sweeps, keeping to the grid he’d carefully measured out instead of doing his Cognitive and Bio Psych assignment, which was great because his stomach let out an unholy growl. 

Stiles caught sight of the silhouette of someone backlit by the wan sunlight who appeared from around a nearby tree just to watch him skitter backward. His foot landed on what looked like the solid ground but the undergrowth again sunk away under his weight, the hidden roots beneath clutched at his ankle as he sprawled onto his butt with a yelp. 

“Holy fucking Christmas cake Batman!” 

Wanda knew she was going a little.... overboard....

She was the only person at the daycare who bothered to buy new books for the kids out of their own pocket, not to mention to do so frequently, but she just couldn’t help it, she didn’t have children of her own- yet- and having nowhere else to put her attention meant that all of it ended up being poured onto the kids at work

And could anyone blame her? They were so.... calm and peacefull during storytime, always staring up at her with those big curious eyes, like she was concocting the most incredible fable known to man- even if that “fable” was a Captain Underpants book

And really, it was the bookstore’s fault, the post-Mother’s Day sale had lured her in and she couldn’t be blamed for filling up her basket when they were all from the 30% Off table...

Unfortunately- or, fortunately, depending on how one looked at it- as she was veering off to the full-priced kids section, she turned a corner a little too sharply and bumped right into someone, causing her to drop her basket, books flying everywhere

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, trying to determine if the stranger had dropped anything due to her inattention

Yuri hadn’t really wanted to be here during the holidays

He’d tried to get a flight out before Christmas, but he had apparently been too late, the airlines were booked and there was bad weather in Japan that seemed to keep them from freeing up too....

In short, he’d gotten stuck in Echo Springs, wich he wouldn’t usually mind- he’d moved here for a reason after all, even if he couldn’t really put his finger on what that reason was anymore- but....

It was New Year’s

He missed his family, he missed his home, and he missed his-....

Warm arms around him, soft kisses under mistletoe and before fireworks, waking up in a shared bed with fingers in his hair and legs criss-crossed with his own....

He blinked, licking his lips as he stared down into his hot chocolate

...Right..... why was he thinking of things like that again...?

The sound of the bell over the door grabbed his attention, and Yuri quickly sucked up his emotions and forced a smile

The air was thick with the smell of pine. October sun beat down through the trees, casting shadows on the pine needles. Glinting off the pools of blood. They weren’t the problem. He was used to seeing blood, it was in his job description. Dexter Morgan, forensic expert, specializing in blood spatter analysis. He was no stranger to crime scenes. This body wasn’t a particularly bad one. He had seen worse, certainly. The woman half-buried in the pine needles, looked almost peaceful. 

But she was number five in six weeks. That was too many, too fast, even by his standards. And that was the real problem -- this wasn’t his work. He had nothing to do with this, or the other four bodies he’d worked. There was a serial killer in Echo Springs. Another one. 

He snapped another picture with his camera. “She bled out from a single wound to the head,” he pointed out. “But she wasn’t bludgeoned. No, she was... pushed,” he said slowly, making a sweeping motion with his hand. “The killer shoved her to the ground with enough force to crack open her skull.” Which should’ve been impossible given the surrounding area. It was as if she’d fallen out of the sky. The detectives clearly shared his thoughts, and they started to murmur between themselves.