A/N:
Hey guys! this is my first fic, so please go easy on me!
Chapter 1: Smells a little Witchy...
"DUH-NUH, CHHH, DUH-NUH, DUUUUUDE LOOKS LIKE A LADYYY," Dean sang, obnoxiously, as the Impala cruised down the nearly abandoned highway.
"Dean." Sam said, not moving from his place in the passenger seat, with his head leaned up against the window, eyes closed.
"SHE'S A blughbeorjglfgFKGJOER AT FIRST BITE, BABY YOU'RE WRONG BUT YOU KNOW IT'S ALL RIIIIIIIIGHT"
"Dean. You don't even know the words." Sam grumbled.
"Shut up, Sammy, you know I sound just as awesome as Steven Tyler." Dean retorted, but turned the radio down to a more reasonable volume. "You needed to wake up anyway, any more beauty rest and dude, you really would look like a lady."
"Whatever, Dean." Sam's face made that expression that reminded Dean of this girl he once dated, who never seemed pleased by anything. Man, she was kind of a bitch.
"What did you do with the file Bobby gave us? I want to look over the facts again before we hit town." Sam said, turing around in his seat to lean over the back. Dean had half a mind to slam on the breaks and send Sammy's ass into Baby's floorboards, but he thought better of it. Prank wars, once initiated, could escalate from "funny" to "so nOT FUNNY" pretty quickly.
After a good bit of rummaging through the junk in the back seat, Sam stuck his head up, the missing file clenched between his teeth.
"Agh 'round itph!"
"Rut ras rat, Raggy?" Dean said with a smirk.
"I said, 'I found it', jackass" Sam retorted, turning around to face the front of the car again.
"Took you long enough. Give me the Sparknotes version, we're about ten miles out from town" Dean said, squinting at the road sign for Dardanelle, Arkansas as the Impala whipped past.
"Okay, so get this," Sam starts, "Bobby's noticed a few fishy deaths around the high school here, and all of them seem to be centered around…. the girl's Guidance Counselor? You know, the girls go and rant about whoever's bothering them, parents, or bullies, or boys…. and then they end up dead. The last vic was Eric Ashmore, 16, and apparently his girlfriend Amber had just told said Guidance Counselor about how Eric got wasted and beat her up a couple of weeks ago, but she was too scared to press charges."
"So the counselor ices him?" Dean asks. "How do you think she's doing it? It seems more psychopath-y than anything freaky."
"That's the thing, though, all the vics just drop dead. No signs of poison, no signs of violence, no nothing, according to the pathologist" Sam explains.
"Smells a little witchy to me," Dean says.
"Yeah, me too. A curse or a hex bag could do something like that, couldn't it?" Sam asks.
"I think so, but we'll have to give the Creepy Counselor's place a good shake-down before we know for sure."
Sam and Dean cruise the Impala down the main street of the town, then have to make a U-turn and go back because "town" was actually about two square blocks of antiquated storefronts. After turning down a side street, they found a little Mom and Pop diner that looked promising, and decided to get some grub.
The bell on the door chimed as they entered, and a stereotypically portly and aging hostess came shuffling over to greet them.
"Just the two'a ya'll today, honey?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am." Sam replied with a smile, the quintessential picture of southern charm.
"Take your pick, boys, an' I'll be over inna minute to getcha orders."
After they picked a booth and ordered lunch, Sam and Dean turned back to the job at hand.
"Do you think we should go up to the school and counsel ourselves with a little guidance?" Dean asked, trying too hard to make a pun.
"Nah," Sam said, smirking anyway. "I think we should dig around her house first, then pay her a visit a little later."
Sam and Dean both inhaled their lunches, Dean with his usual gusto and Sam just because he was starving. They paid for their meal, and headed over to the only motel in town so Sammy could do some nerd-searching on his laptop and dig up the lady's address.
A little later, they pulled the Impala across the street from a small, well-kept farmhouse about fifteen minutes away from the high school. Looking around, Sam and Dean walk up to the front door, and Dean kneels to pick the lock.
"Doesn't look very intimidating…." Sam says.
"Yeah, well, don't judge a spellbook by it's cover." Dean snaps back.
The door creaks open, and the brothers are quick to enter the house and out of sight of any prying eyes.
"You take the front rooms, and I'll do the back" Dean orders, moving off down the hallway.
Sam discovers a bedroom in the first door he tries, and nimbly fishes through the dresser drawers for any hex-bag trappings. Not finding anything, he moves into the next doorway, a kitchen. He first checks the spice cabinet for anything out of the ordinary, like "Scale of a Dragon" or "Testicle of a Newt" or something else equally disturbing. He's just putting back a harmless jar of Tumeric when he hears something.
"….Sammy!…."
Sam immediately takes off for the back of the house, and spots an open door to a basement. Taking the steps two at a time in his rush to get to his brother, he nearly knocks himself out on the low ceiling. When he finally enters the room, he sees no sign of Dean. Instead, he sees a angry-faced thirty-something brunette dressed like a librarian with her arms outstretched, pointing towards an unconscious form slumped in the corner.
Sam charges the woman, pulling Ruby's demon-killing knife out of his waistband as he barrels towards her.
The woman takes one good look at Sam, and then, laughing, claps her hands and disappears in a cloud of smoke.
No, Sam thinks, not smoke….Glitter?
A little confused, Sam turns to the still-limp person in the corner….
and immediately comes staggering to a halt, because, where tHE HELL IS DEAN?