{A/N: For the purposes of this fic, Sam has a soul. Setting is S6, ep2. Prepare for massive amounts of crack. I own nothing. }
Cheryl and I walked downtown, the nearly freezing wind whipping our hair around our heads and making us draw closer to each other for warmth and wipe the fog off our glasses, a rare feat for Texas. The smell of the nearby pizza shop filled our nostrils. Across the street we could see the Language building on campus and a few stragglers leaving class. We passed a group of fellow students and waved to the people we knew. It was just past Halloween, but the holiday spirit was still evident in the carved pumpkins and stuffed scarecrows still propped near doorways. As we window-shopped around the main entertainment street in Denton I turned to see a flash of black and chrome cruise by with the harsh sounds of Metallica's heavy metal riffs floating out of the open windows. I glanced inside as the car passed and saw two men, the one with short hair driving and the other with a longer cut holding a map. There's no way. It has to be a coincidence. I thought disbelievingly. Cheryl had been talking about how excited she was for the upcoming football game, despite the memorial service for six young men who had recently passed, and watching her friends in the band perform their new routine when I cut her off.
"Oh my god," I gaped.
"What?" Cheryl cut off mid-rant.
"I.. I don't know how to explain this, it doesn't make sense, but I think… I think that was them."
"WHO?" Cheryl yelled, throwing her hands up with impatience.
"THEM! I nearly screamed, spittle flying out of my mouth. "The Winchesters! THE GODDAMN IMPALA!"
Several seconds passed by in freeze frame, my arms raised, eyes bulging and my breath coming out in short pants and Cheryl standing there smiling naïvely. I groaned loudly in frustration, turning all nearby eyes on us.
"Let's just go, I'll explain on the way." I grabbed her arm and pulled her into step behind me. We took off running and quickly flagged down a cab. "Follow that car!" I yelled and we peeled out, my finger pointing the way.
Eventually, they pulled into an alley and Cheryl and I burst from our cab, throwing money into the window and began to sidle down the alley, pressing our backs to the cold brick of the surrounding building. We passed the '67 Impala, parked and still cooling off, and I trailed my shaking fingertips across her black doors and headlights reverently, letting out a breathy shudder. Cheryl stared at me and raised her eyebrow in typical 'what the fuck' fashion. I simply motioned with my eyes ahead of us where two men were standing close together and talking quietly near the stone wall of the building, their bodies just a foot away from a beam of sunlight filtering down from between the walls.
I motioned for us to creep forward and all went well until Cheryl's knee hit a metal trash can and sent it clattering to the ground. The men spun around and a silver handgun and sawed-off shotgun, no doubt filled with rock salt, were now aimed at our faces. My heart leapt into my throat. I honestly could've cared less that we were probably about to die an unbelievably painful death, because the glory of Dean and Sam was laid out in front of me.
They were real. They were here. They were gorgeous.
Sam stood six foot-something tall in jeans and a green flannel shirt under his tan jacket, his hair layered and sideburns magnificent. His mouth was drawn and his eyebrows furrowed into a very confused but cautious look. I couldn't take my eyes off of Dean, however. Glorious. Where I probably should've been terrified by his alarmingly green eyes piercing mine over the barrel of his gun, his full lips pursed in anticipation, I was only enraptured. His leather jacket over a grey t-shirt rustled as he took a step forward, and his boots crunched the gravel beneath us. Vaguely, I could hear Cheryl cursing in pain behind me, but only really snapped out of it as she grabbed my shoulder and leaned against me, still muttering, "Fuck, that hurt." The brothers looked at each other agreeing that we were not a threat and lowered their weapons, putting them out of sight as best they could. Then Sam spoke, his gaze softening.
"Sorry about that, you kind of snuck up on us."
"Goddamn-it! Fuck! I'm sorry!" Cheryl said as she held her knee, then looked up at me and followed my gaze to the men. She only now seemed to notice the weapons in their calloused hands. "Oh!" she said, taking a minute step back and raising her hands in surrender. "I had nothing to do with this. I was just following her!" She pointed at me. I whipped my head around and glared, but Dean's voice brought me around.
"So… why were you following us?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. Here, I chanced to talk, but my voice was unnaturally high.
"I - well, we followed you because I recognized you. You're Sam and Dean Winchester, aren't you? You're hunters. I can't believe it. The books are real." I paused to really take in the idea that the series I'd been following for the past year was true. It put a new, daunting aspect on the world. A quiet nervousness fell over the group. For a few moments, only breathing was heard, and then Cheryl broke the silence by addressing Sam.
"You're like, really pretty!" she exclaimed then laughed, her hand covering her mouth. Sam leaned away, flushing crimson.
"You're here on a case aren't you? I can help!" I spoke quickly, desperately, like if I didn't say all that I could, they would disappear.
Dean stepped forward, his head lowering. He sighed and looked back up. "Look kid," he began.
"My name is Bella, and I'm a college student," I interrupted curtly.
"And I'm Cheryl!" Cheryl piped in.
Dean cleared his throat. "Well, Bella and Cheryl, I don't know how you could really..."
"Does this have anything to do with the string of recent deaths on campus?" I cut in determinedly.
"What do you know about that?" Sam finally spoke up, his voice piqued with interest.
"All we know was that all six died around midnight, and nobody really knows how. Their autopsies revealed nothing. I just get the feeling that they're all connected somehow and I can't figure it out," I said solemnly. "I've been researching the events for quite some time. Comparing the police and school reports with my notes from your stories and a few other sources rules out demons, werewolves, vampires and shifters, but as I'm not authorized to actually go look at the bodies, I can only go so far."
Dean and Sam looked at each other, surprised. They turned back to us. Dean looked at me challengingly and said, "You may have read Chuck's books and have a bit of an idea about the shit in this world, but you don't know what's happening now and we'd like to keep it that way."
I spoke again, my voice confident this time.
"Well, I know Mr. Edlund hasn't published anything recently, so no, after the averted Apocalypse (thank you, by the way) we don't know what's happening, but we would if you told us. We're not the only non-hunters who 'have an idea' about what's happening. What about that Becky girl, for crying out loud? If you have any doubts that I will keep your secrets, I will take a blood oath to prove myself…Cheryl too." I finished my spiel with my hands on my hips. Again, Cheryl broke the silence.
"No way! I'm not bleeding for these guys!" Cheryl looked at me indignantly, and I glared back as if to say, 'Shut up. Just go with it.' Dean and Sam still looked like they needed convincing.
"For another reason, this is our school. These are our classmates dying."
"Look-" Dean began, easily becoming more and more agitated with every passing second. It was beautiful to behold – just like the books! Just like how I imagined it! His stance read 'There's no way we're letting you do this" even as his face softened in sympathy.
"And if we can find you in an abandoned alleyway, we can find you anywhere." Surprisingly enough, this valid point came from Cheryl. She kept a large, welcoming grin on her face and continued with sickening ease. "This is our town and I'm an excellent stalker. I will find you."
Dean and Sam stared at her with mild expressions of shock before turning to each other for a short huddle moment. This is it! They're considering it! They could actually say yes!
After a moment of tensed muttering on their part and bated breath on my part (Cheryl seemed perfectly content to stand and stare and smile), Sam turned back and said, "Okay, yes, that is the case we're working on. We have a few leads, but this campus's security is pretty tight and we're having an issue actually getting in past the administration to research the situation."
I positively glowed at this news. This was perfect!
"We can be your inside people! I can gather information on the students for you. Or we can help make you some fake ids," I said, excited once again. "And if we get in the way, you can tell us to leave, but as long as we're of assistance, you have to trust us."