Give it Back

                                    

                                          
'Wait.' Dean spoke to a terrified CSI using wild hand gesticulations to make sure that the man (who was clearly either in shock or just an idiot) understood him. 'So you're telling me that this is officer Skye?' He gestured to a mangled corpse that was still half-in and half-out of a reddened hedge. 
'Yes, sir.' The forensic stammered, his tufts of blonde hair bouncing up and down on his head as his teeth chattered. Sam snatched a blanket from a man walking past and gave it to their witness. 'But we just saw him two hours ago.' Sam spoke up. Dean gave him a look that simply emphasised 'duh'. The witness covered his chittering shoulders with the tin foil duvet, and looked up at Sam with tear-stained eyes. Sam took another glance at the word 'Tailypo' scratched into the fence above the hedge. 
                          
About 15 minutes later, Sam and Dean were sat on the bonnet of the Impala. 'There's no way that this is a coincidence. Two of these deaths in two days. Something's going on.' Dean stated the obvious. 'Yes. But what? We know that it's probably Tailypo from the myth, but how do you kill a Tailypo? No hunter's ever done that before, to my knowledge.' Sam replied. 'We don't have time to go back to the bunker, do we? People are dying here.' Dean swallowed a mouthful of pie. 'I say that we wait until nightfall, and then go in there and check for EMF, sulphur and the usual stuff. See if we can work out what exactly this thing is and how to kill it.' Sam concluded, and then climbed into the back seat of the car and pulled out his laptop. Clicking on the 'Internet Explorer' icon, he searched up a PDF copy of the Tailypo legend. 
So, a man had encountered a little, cattish creature in some nondescript forest, and took its tail to use in a stew. The creature then returned to him at night, and demanded to have its tail back, calling it its 'Tailypo'. The man, of course, didn't have the damn thing - and sent three dogs after the monster, all of which disappeared one by one. Now out of dogs, the man was torn to shreds by the beast. 
Pretty basic story. So why was it coming to life now? Presumably the location would make a difference. 
Dean peaked through the window, and chuckled softly at this brother. Research, research and more research. Personally, Dean just preferred to look up 'freaky shit' on the web browser. He ate another mouthful of pie, and sat himself once more on the bonnet - although Sam was still his nerdy self, there was obviously something wrong with him. Trial Fever hadn't worn off at all, but they couldn't go to hospital yet; there'd be angels everywhere. Metatron would have a bloody field day on them. At that moment, Dean made a promise to himself that he was taking Sam to get medical attention once this case was solved, no matter how many angels were winging about.