40 Bucks

If you didn't need alcohol before, you certainly needed it after that whole ordeal. Lucky for you, you and Sam were supposed to meet Dean at the bar. Sam was on edge; not even registering the female attention the prostitute across the bar was giving him. You didn't blame him either. Dean was fifteen minutes late. Not quite enough to full on panic, but enough for the both of you to constantly check the time. The hooker certainly noticed, finally making her move on Sam. "You look kind of tense. You know, I know a surefire way to relax." Sam, however, was clearly not interested. "Maybe later." Wow. A bit sassy for the younger Winchester, who had apparently reached his waiting limit for Dean. Sam redirected to the bartender. "Excuse me. Hi."

"What can I get for ya?"

"Um, you remember the guy I was with last night? We sat right here. Um…"

"The big hero who jumped on Reggie." You couldn't have rolled your eyes any harder. "Yeah, yeah. The—the big hero. Right. Um, have you seen him around at all today?"

"Maybe. Depends."
"D-Depends on what?" Oh Sam. Sweet naïve Sam. The bartender simply smirked. "Oh, my—Does everyone around here have their hand out?" Sam was really getting irritated. Whenever it came to big brother, the big guns came out. Sam frantically checked his jacket, unable to find anything larger than a 5$ bill. The bartender raised an eyebrow. Sam hesitated, then looked to you with these puppy dog eyes that he was apparently famous for. You sighed and glared at the bartender, pulling a twenty out of your back pocket. It was your turn to step in. You slapped the cash on the counter, making the bartender smile. "He left with Casey about an hour ago."

"Any idea where they went?"

"Her place…for bible study."

"You got an address?"

"What's wrong with you? You think I'm gonna give you a co-worker's address just so you two can go over there and get your kinky rocks off with each other?" Dammit, you were going to have to pull out your emergency 20. You rolled your eyes and slipped it out of your bra, practically shoving it at the bartender. "Corner of Piermont and Clinton. You two have fun." He walked away and you glared at Sam. "Dean owes me forty bucks."

The two of you left the bar, ready to rip Dean a new one for ditching you guys for some ass, not to mention costing you forty bucks in the process. You arrived and Sam knocked on the door, which creaked open without much persuasion. "Dean?" You both were on edge, praying to god that you weren't gonna witness something that you couldn't come back from. Sam stepped on a pair of piggy slippers. Gross. Certainly not your kind of style. Come to think of it, based on your initial analysis of Casey, they didn't really fit hers either. As a matter of fact, nothing in this place seemed to fit her profile. A photo with a man that seemed long term with a cross placed over it was the most suspicious of all. This really rubbed you the wrong way. You walked over to investigate the item when your attention immediately shifted. You flipped the picture on its face and ran your finger along a yellow substance behind it that you pretty much already knew what it was. You brought it to your nose and sniffed. "Sulfur."

Sam led the way as the two of you trudged back into the bar. You faintly heard Thunderstruck and realized your phone was going off. Bobby. It's about time, you texted him yesterday. You held a finger up to Sam and ventured into the quietest corner while he went to, yet again, berate the bartender. "Bobby?"

"Yea it's me. Listen I have an update…"

"I'm actually gonna interrupt you 'cause we're kind of in a situation. See, we found some sulfur and Dean's missing. Turns out there are demons in this town and they seem to have found one of us as well."

"Well that's certainly a different tune than your text sang yesterday. I'm on my way. By the way, colt works. You're welcome. You and Sam try to find Dean and—"

"What is it with the people in this town?!"

You heard that from across the bar. Time to step in. "Yea Bobby thanks, see you soon." You hung up without even hearing the rest of what he had to say. Quickly, you joined Sam at the bar. "Okay, hey let's get out of here and keep looking. Bobby's on his way and—" Sam's attention shifted and he began walking in a specific direction, cutting you off. You looked at his target to see the father sitting alone at a booth. Guess he found his next lead. "Father?"

"Yes?"

"Um…Can I talk to you for a sec?" The father nods and gestures for the both of you to slide in, Sam first. "So, the—the bartender the other night, Casey, you know her pretty well?"

"Since she was in pigtails."

"Well, um, she and my brother, they, uh…" Don't say it Sam. We just left an awkward situation! "They…left tonight. Together." Guess your telepathic skills were a bit rusty.

"Ah. Well, not that I approve, but they are consenting adults."

"Right."

"I'm sorry. You said 'Brother'? I thought the two of you were insurance investigators?" Honestly, it hadn't even occurred to you to keep up the ruse after everything that'd happened since then. "Right, right. Well, we are. Um, it's like a family business, you know?" The Father furrowed his brow and glanced at you, clearly wondering how you fit into the picture. Sam followed his gaze and realized he had to think quickly. "She's my wife." Married. Got it. You placed your left hand on Sam's bicep and smiled. The Father then glanced at your hand before looking to you with his eyebrows raised. Your turn. "Getting the rings engraved. December 18th, the day we met." You finished it with a kiss on his cheek. Specific dates and physical affection that wasn't too over-the-top kept the questioning down to a minimum. Though the Father seemed satisfied, Sam was just downright uncomfortable. "Anyways, um, so, I went to Casey's apartment and they weren't there. Um, I just have this feeling that they—that they might be in trouble." That caught both yours and the Father's attention. You couldn't tell if Sam was putting on a show for him or he actually thought Casey was a victim as well. Regardless, your profile wasn't wrong. The Casey that you initially examined at the bar was in no way even related to the one you found at her apartment. The Father's attention was grabbed for a different reason. "What kind of trouble?"

"Just trouble. Please, father, I need your help. Is there anything you could tell me about Casey—anyplace she'd go, maybe?"

"Yes, there is a place. Let me get my jacket."

"No, wait, father. I don't wanna put you out, we can do this ourselves. Right honey?" You looked to the Father and nodded with a smile. "Listen, if Casey's really in trouble, then there's nothing to talk about." You didn't know why, but the hairs on the back of your neck stood up with the eye contact that the Father made with you. You narrowed your eyes. If you'd learned one thing since coming back from California, it was to trust these feelings. You had your eye on him…