This is the first Supernatural fanfic I've ever written, which I would never have written if it weren't for a very special person in my life. She knows who she is without telling, therefore I won't mention her name. I, whoever, used the right every author has as to change situations as it suits him/her the best. Spoilers for season 7! In here, Castiel did not join forces with Crowley whatsoever, but Dick and his group are indeed a very real problem for the Winchesters. Bobby, however, is dead. - I wish he weren't, tho. Too sad to write him into this without him being really alive.
For her,
I hope you seriously enjoy this little piece of my mind I turned into words just for you. You might be wondering why I did not include your name. I think it is more special for you to know who you are even without me mentioning your name, turning you but into a her or she in this small adventure. Sometimes what we don't say talks louder than what we do (: I wrote a character into this story that is based on you, and the amazing way you are. I do hope you find who this character is in due time, but of course, you never use your strongest weapon on the first battle, but until war is on (:
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or Dean or Sam or Castiel or anything else. If I did, Sam would be shirtless 120% of the time, and Dean and Castiel would be to busy making out to actually save the world. (:
72 hours earlier...
"I will have the turducken sandwich, please" Ordered Dean, handing the waiter the menu and turning back to the newspaper he had been reading.
"Turducken sandwich, Dean? Seriously? After what happened? Also, is 9 a.m." Half-whispered, half-shouted Sam as soon as the waiter was out of earshot, in that way only he can manage.
"We already dealt with those stoned-sandwiches, okay? And it was delicious, mister salad-lover"
"At least I won't die of a heart-attack. And I ordered eggs."
"Whatever. If I'm gonna die before I turn 40 anyway, I might as well enjoy it"
But the little brotherly quarrel was interrupted by the waiter bringing them their breakfasts.
"Enjoy your food, sirs"
Both Winchesters began eating without another comment, both shooting each other a nasty glance every now and then.
"Found anything on the newspaper?" Asked Sam finally, already finishing his breakfast.
"Not much. Murder-suicide of a couple down in Oklahoma, but it doesn't seem like our thing"
"What happened?"
"He cheated. He is dead"
"Okay... anything else?"
Dean looked at the newspaper again; looking for something he might have missed during the first four times he had read it.
"Jack squat. What about you, any luck?"
Sam stared at his laptop screen and sighed. Dean had been all grumpy since they lost sight of Dick a couple weeks ago, and didn't even bother to look for any new cases. For instance, he was looking at the politics page of the newspaper, which he never did, instead of the crime one. "A woman died of a heart-attack"
"Seems normal to me"
"She was 19 years old."
That got Dean's attention. He slowly placed his half-eaten enormous sandwich to stare at his brother.
"Heart disease?"
"Not according to her records. Fourth heart attack in less than a month, all from relatively healthy people. Youngest was 18, oldest was 34. Think this is our thing?"
"Where is it?" Dean was going through the motions, but Sam knew his brother enough to tell when he was faking it.
"Villisca"
"Iowa? Isn't there where we hunted an axe-murder victim's spirit couple years back? Josiah something?"
"Josiah Moore. Yeah, I think so."
"Well, it's only a couple hour drive down there, we might as well check it out"
"Let's go" Agreed Sam, packing his laptop while his brother finished the sandwich in a giant bite, sending little crumps everywhere and left a $10 dollars bill on the table.
Sam winced at his brother, but kept his mouth shut.
"Hurry up, gianormous" Called Dean from the door of the diner, a big, fake smile on his face.
Sam rolled his eyes but followed his brother to the Impala anyway.
After two hours and a half of driving and the occasional snore from the youngest of the Winchesters brothers, they boys arrived to Villisca. Dean drove directly to a filthy-looking motel on the side of the road, Sam still asleep on the passenger seat.
A light smile forced its way into Dean's face. It had been a long time since Sam had last been able to sleep, especially in a moving car with old rock music and Dean's singing voice as a lullaby. For an instant, Dean was back in time where all they had to fight were killable demons and spirits, back when Bobby and Dad had been alive. Back when so many people had been alive... The smile was soon replaced with a thin line of tension, his brows slightly furrowed. Would they be able to fight and win against Dick Roman and his kind?
He remembered one of the last conversations he had had with Bobby before... well, before.
How many more hits can we take? He had yelled that, but not quite believe it. Not matter what he and his brother got themselves into; they always found a way to make it work. Hell, they were still alive and that was more than enough proof. But now he wondered what the answer to that might be. And it frightened him that the answer to that might be a single-digit number.
Dean shook himself from his thoughts and placed his hand slightly on his brother's shoulder, shaking him up.
"We are here, Sammy. What do you wanna do first?"
Sam brushed the sleepiness off his eyes with the back of his hands and stared at the motel neon sign. 'All Token Inn Motel' shone in red lights in front of his eyes. He rose his eyebrows at his brother, but Dean just dismissed the unspoken question with a hand movement.
"Well... the morgue, I guess" The youngest of the Winchester boys was all business now, being taught his whole life to go into alert mode into a second, no sign of sleepiness left on him, aside from the marks the seat had left on his right cheek.
Dean nodded at his brother, taking a look at his watch.
"If we change in under 10 minutes, we might still be able to get there before it's closed"
After a lifetime of practice, both Winchesters were on their way to the Morgue in 8 minutes, already in FBI clothes.
The morgue was a small building made out of red bricks, with a small wooden desk for the receptionist and three chairs in a row on the left side of the hall, that apparently worked as the waiting room.
An old woman sat by the desk, her white hair up in a tight bun held in place by a headband. Her dark green eyes looked small behind her orange horn rim cat glasses. An orange shawl covered her shoulders and the most part of her pink dress. She looked at the Winchesters in a bored kind of way, chewing her gum in a way that everyone knew exactly what she was chewing.
"Hello, ma'am... Mildred." Said Dean, leaning forward on the desk, reading the name from her nametag, showing her a bright, big smile and his fake-badge. "I'm agent Smith, this is my partner, agent Rose."
"It's Mrs. Gardoni, young man" She said sourly, her voice raspy and low.
Dean was taken aback by her attitude, but quickly recovered and continued to smile as bright as humanly possible, which only make it look like a grimace. "Well, Mrs Gardoni... We are here about the death of 19-year-old Isabella Donovan"
Sam smiled at the old woman in an effort to keep himself from laughing at his brother and showed his fake-badge as well, then went back to looking at the rest of the room. Apparently, the receptionist had taken decoration in her own hands, since there were pictures of the same three cats in all walls.
"Didn't she die of a heart-attack?" Asked Mrs. Gardoni, going through her papers. "Well, I guess the FBI's got its reasons." She looked at Dean suspiciously, even taking her glasses off. Dean only nodded. "Go on ahead, the doctor is still there." She pointed to a room at the end of the hall, with a bright smile of her own that she directed solely at Sam, once she got a good luck at him. Dean could have sworn he saw her wink.
Both brothers nodded and thanked her, before following the path the woman had signaled them.
"Norman Bates' mother was totally flirting with you" Teased Dean.
"Yeah, and you flirted with her" Recounted Sam, opening the door for both of them.
Inside, they found a very short doctor sewing up the body of young Isabella Donovan.
"Just a second" He mumbled without turning back, still working on his latest ... patient. "What a shame, this accidents" The doctor said, no longer mumbling.
"Accidents?" Asked Sam, stepping into the office.
"Well, I don't know what to call them, really. Four heart attacks in a month? You don't see that everyday. Accident seems to be the best term, since there are no common factors" For the first time the doctor turned around, facing the boys. He was rather short, barely taller than 5"2, with big blue eyes and short brown hair. He looked 40 at the most, but his eyes told a different story, as if his soul was much older than his body. Dean realized that was probably the way he looked, too. As did every other hunter. But he noticed something else, too; the man did look either of them in the eye, instead focusing on anything else near him. Liar.
Sam had been saying something; Dean could listen to his voice, but couldn't make out the words. He was probably making up an excuse as to why the FBI would be interested in a case like this. Which is no case at all.
"Doctor," He interrupted finally, earning a nasty look from his brother, which quickly turned into one of confusion. Dean was no looking at the man in front of them, or at his brother, but at the girl that lay dead on the table.
"Yes, agent?" His voice was squeaky now. He was getting nervous.
"Is there anything else you would like to tell us?" Dean turned to face the doctor, wearing his best 'bad cop' face, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
"Excuse me?" He was shaking now.
Sam looked at the doctor, then at his brother, then at the doctor, then back at his brother. "What?" He mouthed, so only Dean would get the message. With the slightest head movement, Dean signaled to the file on the edge of the table, all the information of the autopsy already on it. Which is impossible if the doctor was sewing up the girl.
"Doctor, was there a need to do a second autopsy?" Asked Sam finally, going through the files on the table, reading as much as he could in as little time.
The doctor looked as if he was about to faint, color suddenly drained from his body. "I...uh. I was just looking at the body one more time, detective. To see if there was anything I missed the first time. Like I told you, this is very weird."
"Yes, of course" Answered Sam. If the man was such a bad liar, and the victims were dying of heart attacks, then there was no need to press matters any further. "Would you mind if we take a look at the body?"
"Knock yourselves out" And with that, the small man left the room, still slightly shaking.
Dean looked at the retreating figure, still wondering what the little scene was all about.
"Are you going to stand there or are you going to come here and help me?" Sam's voice was strained, and when Dean looked he saw that he was trying to move the body all by himself.
"Woah, woah, woah. What are you trying to do, steal a corpse?"
"Don't be an idiot, Dean. I'm trying to turn her around" He said this as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which, to Dean, it was not. However, he knew that look in his brother's eyes, so he rushed to help.
"What are we looking for?" Asked Dean, all business now, looking at the woman's body. There were no bruises on her skin, or any kind of marks really, aside from the small blue rose tattoo on the back of her neck.
"A puncture wound" Answered Sam, looking closely at the girl's arm.
"As in needle?"
"As in anything. Teeth, needle, horn. Healthy people don't just drop dead, Dean. Something is going on" Dean looked at his brother, question in his eyes.
"Are you saying this is our kind of thing?"
"I think so" Sam finally let go of the woman's arm. "There's nothing" He ran his hands through his long hair in confusion, his eyes fixed on the woman but his mind focused on what he had just read.
"So...no 'puncture wound'. What does that mean?" Dean rounded the table, taking the files and reading them himself, trying to figure out what was going on in Sam's head. "Okay, what the hell does 'Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy' mean? I'm pretty sure he just made it up.
"It's also known as the 'Broken Heart Syndrome'. It means the left ventricle, the main pumping chamber of the heart, is weakened. The blood is not pumped the way it should be, and it feels like a heart attack."
"Okay, college boy, I thought your major was law?"
"I read that, Dean. In a book" Sam looked at the files in Dean's hands and nodded. "Let's go. Bring those, I'll ask for a copy"
Dean looked at the weird words on the document and nodded, following his brother out of the cold room they were in, wondering what the hell a broken heart had to do with the kind of things they hunted.