Not Just Credit Fraud
A Supernatural fanfic.
Disclaimer: not in any way, or shape, except this form.
Spoilers for Playthings and Nightshifter
Chapter One: Then
The look on Susan Tucker's face is a mixture of shock, disbelief and anger. It's a look that's become surprisingly familiar over the last eight months.
"You think they murdered my mother?"
Her tone is familiar as well and after eight months of similar interviews, Hendrickson can confidently say he has less than five minutes before Tucker throws him out of the house.
"Mrs Tucker, Dean Winchester is wanted for two counts of murder, not to mention numerous other charges. And just three days ago, Sam Winchester took out two SWAT guys during a bank hold-up.
Her expression changes the minute he mentions Sam, and Hendrickson realises his time just got cut in half. As a whole, the Winchesters fans made investigating them hard, giving conflicting statements, refusing to co-operate and generally obstructing the course of justice. Sam's devotees, however, were the worst. Dean's were usually younger, easier to intimidate. They just wanted to tame a 'bad-boy'. Sam's ran the gamut from Jessica Moore's ninety year old grandmother, who'd threatened to sue the Bureau, to an eight year old in Arkansas, who'd kicked him for telling lies about her friends. Sam's fans saw the floppy hair, the hunched shoulders, the dead mother/girlfriend and wanted to protect him.
"I think you should leave, Agent Hendrickson"
"These boys don't need you help Mrs Tucker, believe me. They haven't done anything to deserve it."
She stands, all anger now, and he knows he's said something wrong.
"Mrs Tucker..."
"Agent Hendrickson, at the time you claim they were, murdering, my mother, " the same 'are-you-nuts?' tone as before, " Dean was with me, trying to break in to the pool-house. Sam was trying the door on the upper level. He succeeded. Sam jumped in the pool, from the balcony, with a broken wrist. He pulled my daughter out of the water. He saved her. They didn't kill my mother, they saved my daughter."
Hendrickson checks his watch before unlocking his rental. Six minutes, from badge to blow-up. He sighs. One more follower of the god-damned Cult of Winchester.
The End
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