Notes:
This story is using an AU of "Twigs and Twines and Tasha Banes". Max did not bring his sister back. It's several weeks later and the Winchesters have checked on Max from time to time, even met him for a hunt or two.
***SPN***
"No, James, put the gun down! Please! We're partners! Don't do this, man! I'm begging you, James! Please, you don't have to do thi..."
A shot resounded, and the begging man fell to the ground, dead eyes staring ahead, sporting a circular hole right between them. It was silent for a few moments. Then the metallic clank of a gun hitting the ground broke the silence, followed by a thud as the cop who dropped it fell to his knees, sobbing.
"What have I done?" James wailed, fingers plucking at his hair. Then his hand grasped his weapon tightly and he lifted it, resting the barrel against his temple.
***spn***
Dean dropped the newspaper down in front of Sam, effectively pulling his brother's attention from the one on the table before him.
"Chick gets caught up in a shooting, dies by a cop bullet. Three weeks later, one of the cops involved in the shooting, kills himself," Dean declared, walking around the table to stand opposite Sam. Sam raised his eyebrows, studying his big brother. Dean continued.
"Two days later, another cop involved first shoots his partner, then splatters his own brains all over the place. What does that sound like to you?"
"Ghost possession. Vengeful spirit," Sam supplies, reading the article with a frown. "So, there are three more cops that were working the hold up that are still breathing?"
Dean nodded. "There's just one problem."
"Casper has been cremated," Sam shook his head, tapping the part of the newspaper where he'd gotten the information with his finger. "So, what's this... um... Mandy Simmons tied to?"
"Hm," Dean huffed. "I'd say we'd have to check into it to find out."
"Right," Sam agreed, picking up the newspaper as he got his 6 foot 4 frame off the chair.
"So, where're we going? Colorado, wasn't it?" Dean sounded almost cheerful. He wasn't the best at staying in one place too long, so eventually the bunker always gave him cabin fever.
"Cascade, Colorado," Sam confirmed, shaking his head. "Wonder who ever came up with that name."
Before Dean could throw in his two cents, his phone blasted Rod Stewart's 'If you want my booody' on maximum volume. He jumped and fumbled for the device, accepting the call as quick as he could without checking the caller ID.
"Yeah?" He said, shooting daggers at Sam and mimicking cutting his throat as Sam clasped his hand across his mouth to stifle his laughter.
"Dean?"
"Yeah, it's Dean. Max, is that you?" Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam sobered and kept quiet, trying to listen in. Dean quickly activated the speaker.
"Yeah it's me. Why did you answer Sam's phone?" Max sounded perplexed.
"I didn't. You called my phone, dude," Dean replied. "Which raises the question of how you got 'my' number."
"No, I didn't. I don't even have it..."
"Hold on," Dean cut in, seeing his brother trying to keep a straight face. "Damnit Sammy, you're asking for it. Prank war's on. Don't go cry to Mom when I win."
"As if," Sam snorted.
"You two done?" Max laughed.
"What are you calling for anyways," Dean asked the male witch.
"Honestly? I was bored," Max admitted.
"Tell you what, we're just heading out on a case. Why don't you meet us in Cascade, Colorado and help us with a not quite simple salt and burn?"
"Sounds great," Max replied. "But I'm up in North Dakota. Will take me a bit longer to get there."
"No problem. We'll text you where we're staying at and start up research," Sam suggested.
"Yeah, we can share a room," Dean didn't miss a beat. "Two queens. One for you, one for me. Sammy can take the floor."
Sam shot Dean a glare but Dean laughed at his own joke and snatched the keys to the Impala.
"See you there, Max."
***spn***
Dean flopped down on one of the beds in the cabin. Cascade was in a mountainous area and the only motel not fully booked out was actually less motel, more rent-a-cabin. Sam wasn't too happy at first because it was a bit pricier, but Dean had hinted he could hustle some money and that a change would be welcome. Especially with Max joining them.
Sam looked around in the spacious, two room cabin. The main room was living room and kitchen in one - not that they planned on using it. The other room contained four queen sized beds and a séparée with a bathroom. Settling on one of the other beds, Sam pulled out his laptop.
"Alright, we have Mandy Simmons, died age 28, who got caught in a crossfire between six cops and a handful of drug dealers as she exited a store unawares. She gets cremated and her ashes rest with her boyfriend, Walter Smythe, 32, because no living blood relative exists. Mandy was an only child, parents deceased, no aunts or uncles or grandparents alive or known of. I wonder what Walter did with the ashes...," Sam pondered.
"Made soap out of it," Dean mumbled from under his arm, which he had flung across his face to drown out the bright sun light streaming in from the window beside his bed.
"Dammit, Dean, I'm serious here," Sam scolded his brother.
"I know," Dean replied, biting his tongue to make sure he didn't add me too.
"So, three weeks later officer Lance O'Reilly shot himself in the temple, using his service gun. Three days later, Sheriff James Milner first kills his subordinate Freddy Ramsey and then himself. That was two days ago.
No suicide notes or other explanations in either case, all three were part of the shooting. The other three cops involved in the drug shoot were Sergeant Steve Bishop as well as officers Carl Lehman and Shayne Thorpe. I'd suggest we interview them to get more information, try figuring out what Mandy could be tied to."
Sam hacked around on his laptop quickly. "Nearest police headquarters is other side of town. Let's go."
"Ugh," sighed Dean and stretched. "And where can we find this ominous boyfriend Walter?"
"He's been listed to share the house with his girlfriend. No work known. So I'd say we find him there." Sam dug through his duffel bag and produced his fed suit, then tossed Dean's bag at him. "Get going, sleepy head. Put on your cool guy suit."
Dean dragged the bag off his torso where Sam had dropped it and muttered something unintelligible. Sam grinned as his brother sat up and started shedding layers of clothes to dress up for the occasion. He could watch his brother undressing all day long.
Finally the brothers pulled their ties on right, pocketed FBI badges, and headed to the Impala.
***spn***
The Winchesters entered Cascade P.D. and walked up to the front desk, where a young officer was looking up from his work. Flashing their badges, they introduced themselves.
"Hey, Agents Doggett and Reyes, we'd like to speak to Sergeant Bishop," Dean said, dropping his fist on the counter. A side glance to Sam told him his brother wasn't happy. "Please." Dean added and flashed a fake grin at Sam.
"Um, Agents, the Sergeant is...," the young man started, but Dean interrupted him.
"Look, Officer, err...," Dean eyed the badge on the uniform. "Officer Doyle. This is about the drug shooting and the death of your colleagues, so I'm sure the good Sergeant can make time for us."
His stern expression seemed to shock the young man and he nodded quickly before picking up the phone, hastily typing in the number. Dean heard it ring once, twice, and then a loud bang reverberated through the building.
It took the Winchesters a split second to exchange looks, then both drew their guns and headed into the hallway where the shot had come from. Sam was ahead, Dean hot on his heels. As they rounded a corner, they both skidded to a halt and lowered their weapons.
"Damn," Dean muttered. In front of them the body of a middle aged policeman lay sprawled, a puddle of blood seeping from a hole in his temple. The deceased still had the gun in his hand. Behind him stood a shell-shocked policewoman, hand clasped over her mouth, eyes wide.
"I take it this is Sergeant Bishop?" Sam asked. The woman nodded her head yes and sobbed.
Reacting quickly, Dean took her hand and led her back to the hallway leading to the main room. Sam took advantage of the opportunity and pulled out the EMF reader to check the body. To his surprise, the device stayed silent. Sam frowned and scratched his head.
The gun and the whole room in fact gave the same result. Something didn't add up. Sam quickly checked the body again, checking for ectoplasm or any sign of vengeful spirit activity, but came back empty.
Running footsteps warned him he'd have company soon and swiftly he slipped the EMF back into his suit pocket. A few moments later a whole group of policemen swarmed the room.
"Did you try CPR?" A dirty blond, athletic looking officer asked Sam, kneeling down next to his colleague.
"He's gone," Sam pressed. "You put a bullet there, zero chance of survival. If I were you, I wouldn't touch the crime scene."
"Crime scene?" The man whose tag identified him as Shayne Thorpe queried, an eyebrow raised.
"He shot himself. Suicide is handled like a crime scene, isn't it?" Sam shrugged, keeping an eye on the man. He had recognized his name as one of those officers that had been involved in the accidental shooting of Mandy Simmons and who were now targeted by a vengeful spirit. Only... Sam wasn't so sure anymore it was a spirit they were dealing with.
Dean returned to his side, throwing him a questioning glance. Sam shrugged and then shook his head no, briefly. Dean's face betrayed surprise, but they didn't have time to keep up their silent conversation.
"No, Carl... don't! Drop it... drop the gun!"
Relocating their attention, the Winchesters took in a red haired older cop having his colleague, Mr. Thorpe, at gun point. Seeing their interview subjects dropping like flies, the boys sprang into action.
Dean sprinted the few steps to Carl Lehman, grabbing his gun arm just as the shot rang out. Sam had just reached Shayne Thorpe and tackled him out of the way, literally feeling the bullet zing by, followed but a burning sensation on his right bicep.
The next moment Dean received a backhand to his face with a strength he had never assumed to be in Lehman's capability. Stunned, he staggered back, shaking his head to clear his vision. When he focused again, it was to see Carl Lehman sticking his own gun into his mouth, pulling the trigger.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, looking at his brother whose right arm was covered in blood. "Sam?"
"I'm okay, Dean. Bullet just grazed me," Sam replied. "Sadly it wasn't enough and Mr. Thorpe here wasn't as lucky."
Dean lowered his gaze and lively, green eyes settled briefly on dead, brown ones. He sighed. The room was in a frenzy and for now, there was nothing they could do with all their leads being killed. A pack of EMT's accessed the room and the boys took advantage of it all and ran.
***spn***
"So the EMF came up with nothing?" Dean sounded incredulous as he patched up Sam's arm, applying a Band-Aid.
"Not even a flicker," Sam confirmed.
"Dude, did you switch it on?" Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam, who countered with a smoldering glare.
Laughing, Dean raised both hands and stepped away from his patch-up job.
"There, all done. Good as new. So... no ghost, no spirit then?"
"No EMF, no ectoplasm, no nothing," Sam confirmed as Dean changed back into his beloved jeans and plaid flannel. He quickly followed suit and pulled up his laptop.
"What are you checking?" Dean mumbled as he absentmindedly rubbed his cheek where Carl Lehman had backhanded him.
"Trying to find out what we're dealing with," Sam mumbled while Dean unscrewed the cap of a beer bottle.
"Want one?" He asked, offering Sam a bottle. Sam declined and focused on the task at hand.
The low rumbling of an engine, which then got cut, filled the room. Dean stepped to the window and smiled.
"Max?" Sam asked.
"Yeah."
***spn***
Dean and Max clinked bottles after Max had dropped his duffel on one of the vacant queens and Sam had filled him in. Sam eyed the two men wearily as they sipped their beers. He was tired but they had things to do. And those two laughing bags were just keeping him distracted.
"Yo, get out or be quiet," he growled good-naturedly. "I got work to do."
"Peace, grumpy," Dean retorted and quickly pulled Max' sleeve. He knew Sam needed some thinking time about the case. "Let's go, Max. If I remember correctly, I still have to finish the tour regarding my Baby."
Five minutes later, Sam glanced up to see his brother and Max stand by the trunk of the Impala, admiring the arsenal. A pop up window on his laptop meant, for him, the engine had found a match for the potential foe.
***spn***
Dean strolled along the side of the Impala, letting his fingers softly trail along the frame as he neared the front of the car. He'd been so engrossed in showing off his most prized possession, he hadn't noticed the shift in Max' interest.
"Gotta love those curves," he called to Max who was walking a few steps behind him, eyes fixed in a dead lock on Dean's ass.
"I sure love the curves," Max agreed.
Something in Max' voice let Dean stop short and he turned around to face the younger man, whose eyes now rested on Dean's crotch, slowly wandering up his torso, lingering on the lips before Max finally locked eyes with the Winchester.
"What?" Max grinned. "I'm just appreciating your tempting physique."
Dean frowned and swallowed. "Ya know Max, I like you. But I don't play for your team."
"Oh boy," Max laughed before growing serious. "Are you done fooling yourself? Cause I've seen the way you check out Sam when he's not looking."
"I do n...," Dean started but got interrupted by Max' right index finger across his lips and his left hand hooked in Dean's belt.
"I've seen Sam doing the same to you. And I can totally see why."
With that Max removed his finger from Dean's lips and replaced it with his own in a sweet, short, teasing kiss.
The cabin door opened and out strolled Sam, nose buried in his laptop, fed suit back in place. He was headed towards the Impala.
"Hey Dean, I need the keys. There's something I need to check at the P.D., I don't suppose you wanna come with..."
About five steps from the car Sam finally looked up, seeing Dean and Max standing behind the Impala, facing each other, Dean looking shell shocked and frozen in time.
"Dean, you ok?"
Max chuckled and stepped back a bit, while Dean briefly shook his head and then propped his arms onto Baby's roof, looking at his brother.
"Yeah, fine. What do you need?"
Sam sucked in the air and rolled his eyes. "Come on Dean. Research in town. Either gimme the keys or come with."
"Oh," Dean replied. "Research at the bar?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Research at the police department, they're bound to have some paperwork on the case," Sam sighed.
"Ugh, too dusty," Dean pulled a face and leaned through the open window inside to push the keys in the ignition. Sam watched him for a moment, but didn't miss Max ogling what must be Dean's rear. For a split second Sam's eyes narrowed.
"She's all yours baby bro," Dean announced. "Just remember, one scratch and..."
Sam rewarded his brother with a patented bitch face and opened the passenger door to get in the black car, scooting over to sit behind the wheel.
"I know, Dean, you'll have my ass. See you two later."
With that, Sam let the tires squeal and raced off raising quite a bit of dust.
"Damn youngster," Dean growled, watching his beloved car disappear around a bend. "Just who is he trying to impress?"
"I know who I'd want to impress," Max chuckled and eyeballed Dean.
"Yeah, about that. Care to explain the sweet talk?"
AN: This is my first wincest case fic... wincest+1 to be exact. Please feed the muse with comments :)