After that little jab things became a blur. Before I knew what I was about, both of them had changed from their casual, blue collar, tired clothes into suits, that while not tailor made, fit them well enough to make them look official.
"Come on pretty boy, let's go." Dean said and I trailed behind them like a child following his big brothers. We went up to a rather nice two story house, that we just seemed to find, not that either brother had anything more than a house number to go by. They rang the door bell and they introduced themselves and Agent Page and Agent Lennon, and me as the agent in training Spears. What we are doing was so illegal I felt twitchy just listening to them give the introductions.
We were invited into the house and we were given cookies and juice, which Sam declined and Dean ate with delight, getting crumbs all over his suit, and the brothers began to discuss the recent death of the woman's daughter. They asked questions that didn't make sense to me, and seemed to confuse the woman whom they interviewed.
We left after Dean gave Sam a look, and Sam excused us and as soon as the door closed behind us Dean said, "I don't know if it's a ghost."
"I don't know if it is either. Doesn't really sound like it."
"But we've seen ghosts do some whacked out things. What did you think pretty boy?"
"Think about what?"
"About what she said? Any great insight?"
"She seemed confused."
"He's so perceptive isn't he Sam?"
"Dean, give the guy a break, he hasn't' been doing this his whole life."
"But he's going to pretend like he has. Isn't that what you do all day pretty boy? Pretend?"
"I'm good at my job."
"Can't be too hard to be good at a job where you get to stand around and the hardest thing you have to do all day is remember your lines." I wanted to lash out. I wanted to fight him. I wanted to take Dean Winchester right in the middle of this quiet suburban street. He was a son of a bitch. I have no clue why in the hell his brother has stayed around this long. If I were his brother I would have taken off and never ever called or come back.
"What you missed pretty boy is that the thing that's killing these people, seems to be tied to the seasons."
"But you gave me something on a ghost to read about. Isn't that what we are after?" I felt completely stupid just saying that.
"Just screwing with you."
"What?"
"We just wanted to see if you were paying attention." Dean said.
"What it probably is, is a Pagan God that is tied to the seasons, and it is taking sacrifices, or someone is sacrificing people to it."
"A Pagan God?" Now this was just plain silly. They couldn't seriously believe this.
"Yeah." Sam said.
"You can't be serious."
"We've met a couple of them." Sam said casually as if meeting a Pagan God happened every day.
"Really."
"Yeah, we met the ones that the Christmas rituals were based from."
"They were just awesome." Dean said with a sigh.
"You still have the scar?" Sam asked.
"No. That was one of those that got erased when Cass got me."
Sam nodded, and I was confused even more than I already was, which was saying something. "Who is Cass?"
"An angel who rescued Dean from hell." Sam said as if he were telling me the capital of the country. "Anyway, we met that one and a couple others."
"Wait, back up the truck. An angel that rescued Dean from hell? What?"
"I went to hell, what was it a year, year and a half? Yeah something like that. I died to save his ass and did some time in the hot box before an angel pulled me out." I'm in a car with lunatics. Complete and total lunatics. Dean actually believed that he went to hell. He believes that he was raised from the dead. Wow. I think I need out of this car as soon as possible.
"That one did suck." Sam said in agreement. Dean and Sam had continued the conversation without me, and I wasn't positive what they were talking about, and the longer they talk the more I'm not so sure I want to know.
"And fugly as hell."
"Anyway. Pagan Gods can be tied to all sorts of things, however, most are tied to seasons. It might be a ghost, and we'll have to do some more digging, but I did research before we took off and the killings seem to be more of the Pagan God flavor."
"You still there pretty boy?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, just digesting."
"Sam, he shouldn't be with us. If he does this, he's going to end up bleeding, and probably scarring and God forbid that happens, can't ruin pretty boy's face." Dean said as if I wasn't in the car, the flames of my anger were stoked. "Plus he's going to be a liability. He's got the muscle, but you can't tell me that he knows how to use it beyond the weight room."
Now I was pissed. "Look you son of a bitch. I agreed to this stupid little acid trip, and I intend to see it through. Quit talking about me like I'm not in the damn car. I'm doing this." Oh shit. I shouldn't have said that. I should have just gotten out of the car and run for my life, but instead, because of my stubborn bull headedness, I was fighting to stay in the car, fighting to continue on this impossible journey. I am completely a moron, and next time I get angry, I need to just simply keep my mouth shut.
"Ohhh.. Looks like pretty boy has spunk Sammy." I resisted the urge to cross my arms and pout, pretty boy has spunk, pretty boy has anger, and most of all, pretty boy has a name.
