Chapter 8

Always deal with the underlings if you can.
It was one of the things John Winchester had taught his sons.
An underling has less to prove, less turf to defend and is usually slightly flattered you are talking to them. If you are pretending to be a FBI agent, they will be more intimidated and less likely to look too hard at your badge. It's always a good idea to turn up at break times or close to the end of shift, because those higher up the chain will dump you on an underling if they can.
Sam and Dean knew all the tricks.

Sam stood back and watched his older brother work his charm on the lady behind the desk.

She was one of those thirty something New York women, closer to something than thirty. Sam could tell she wanted to convince herself she was still young enough to compete with the worlds sweet young things, but had come to the sad conclusion that she could not. She was fighting the losing battle bravely though, trying to make up for the extra mileage with enthusiasm, a can-do attitude and all the cosmetics money could buy. It was really, sort of, unfair to unleash Dean on her Sam thought, a bit like shooting fish in a barrel.

The woman handed Dean a stack of files which he shoved in Sam's direction while saying something that made her blush and laugh. She waved over a mid-twenty's kid wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a firefighter running with a comically dripping hose and the red and white legend "***Montauk Fire Dept***." Dean flashed his badge again and Sam followed suit not really paying attention. For a while there was an animated discussion between the three, then much nodding and smiling. Dean shook the kids hand, handed over his contact details to the woman and with a jaunty smile and wave they were out the door.

Dean favoured his brother with a frown "You okay? You sort of, just phoned it in, in there."

"Yeah, just, tired I guess"

"Well not much more we can do today, how 'bout I drop you back at the room for some shut eye, I can come back for that other report later."

"Other report?"

"The dismemberment, that one washed up on Plum island. Loraine's getting them to send the report over for us."

"Loraine hu?"

"She said it would be ready for the end of her shift, I was hopin' t' get a heads up on the bars 'n' things from her.

"From her or with her Dean?" He shot his brother a pained scowl.

"Judgey much bro, there's nothing wrong with a few drinks with a lovely lady."

"It never ends up just a couple of drinks, Dean."

"Consenting adults, Sammy, beautiful natural acts, even Chuck would approve."

"Yeah but would Amara?" He asked sourly with a huff.

Dean opened his mouth to speak then Sam watched him shut it again with a thoughtful look.

"Dean, it's just, a small town and she's a cop ya know..."

"I'd never do anything to mess up a case Sam."

"Fine!" Sam flared making his brother snort in amusement.

"You're such a girl Samantha you even got the passive aggressive 'fine' down pat. You get so bitchy when you're tired and hungry. Let's get you fed and then I can tuck you in with some bedtime reading before I sound out the locals."

...

Sam filled a glass of water from the tap and placed it and a bottle of Advil where his brother could reach it when he woke.

Dean had stumbled in at some point during the night, yodelling something cheerfully and inconsiderately loud about Sloppy Tunas and beer, then he'd kicked off his boots and slumped into bed fully dressed.

He would need intravenous coffee, a handful of pills and some kind of coronary inducing fast food, then he'd be good to go. Sam tried not to resent the inequality of it all. Ever since he could remember his older brothers recuperative powers had out stripped his own, something that felt incredibly unfair considering Dean was four years older.

When Scott, the volunteer from Montauk fire department, turned up in the all-terrain vehicle 90 minutes later Dean was bright eyed and enthusiastic. Sam ran a jaundiced eye over the small vehicle realising with a rising sense of dread that the cab would only fit two.

"Glad to see you two are dressed comfortably" Scott said easily taking in their worn jeans, flannel shirts and hard worn boots.

"Gotta look the part when you first turn up, if you're a duck you have to walk and quack like a duck. Workin' and quackin' though, they very rarely get the job done. " Dean shrugged eyeing the little Polaris enthusiastically "Awesome, now I see why you dudes volunteer."

"Definitely one of the perks, though we make up for it when the water rescue work involves bringing in bodies" the kid swallowed and looked away.

"It's hard sometimes, but volunteers like you do good work" Sam acknowledged with a solemn look.

The kid shrugged "I surfed with Shaun and Tim. Marty Mc Millians kid, Cody, was a couple of years behind me at high school... Montauk is a pretty small place off season."

"Anything extra you can tell us about the victims or town would really help." Dean nodded in agreement with his brother.

"So, who's riding on the back first?" Scott gestured at the small flatbed of the little Polaris. To Scott's amusement, a quick game of paper scissors rock ensued between the two FBI agents before the taller of the two took a seat in the cab.

"We could go back for one of the four wheel drives" Scott offered looking out the back at the other agent.

"Nah, Deans fine" Sam assured him "he's a bit like a dog really, if he can't be driver he'd rather have his head out the window anyway." The two in the front shared a look at the sounds of enthusiasm coming from the back as they drove.

"Sounds like you know him pretty well."

"That's part of the life I guess" Sam shrugged "So, small town, what can you tell me about the victims?"

"They were all good men, the best. All of them spent years round the sea. It's hard to believe that they drowned. But I guess they did. "

"I know-knew Shaun best, he dated my dad's kid sister, she's like... my cool Aunty, since she's only 10 years older than me, we hung out lots. Shaun, he got me into surfing...that's all before he met Lisa of course, they've been married coming on 6 years." The kid sighed and rubbed his eyes. "He proposed to Lisa on top of the lighthouse..." the kid muttered "His body washed up about four miles from there." The young man gave a helpless shrug. "I guess in your job things like this are small fry, you're probably used to it."

"No, not really" Sam's forehead scrunched "you never really get used to good people dying, sometimes there's a reason, we can make things better sometimes, for people down the line. But , uh, it's never really enough." The agent's hazel and grey eyes stared into space pensively.

"So why are the FBI interested in drownings, I mean if I can ask of course."

"Sometimes our job's about dotting the i's and crossing the t's." The agent replied.

….

They pulled off 27, Montauk highway and pulled into Montauk point State park, the green sign that guarded the way declared it to be "The surf casting Capital of the world."

"We'll follow this route nearly all the way to the lighthouse, then swing along the coast to where the bodies washed up" Scott advised him.

There was a whoop of joy from the Polaris's bed again, "Your partner seems to be having fun back there."

Sam pulled a face "Dean only pretends to be an adult when he has to, that said, he's probably better at this job than I'll ever be. So, the lighthouse, what can you tell me, any interesting legends?"

"Montauk point light was the first lighthouse in the New York State, it's the fourth oldest active lighthouse in USA." Scott recited as if repeating a lesson, which possibly he was. "There's a lot of history there but it's never really been my thing, The Franzones, Doris and her husband Lawrence run the historical society they're the ones to talk to. I can hook you up, but don't expect me to wait around for the history torture."

Sam chucked good naturedly at the distaste in the kids voice.

"Yeah, nah, history torture, I'll save that for Dean, Agent Cassidy. What about the less historical stuff."

"Well we have a lot of legends, rumours and conspiracy theories around here, agent, everything from aliens to time travel and then there's the Plum Island Animal Disease Centre, some people think they are making monsters out there. We locals don't give it any more credence than Lenny Nicole's drunken stories about how he saw a mermaid or Mikey Arcara's claims that he doesn't set town mailboxes on fire for kicks. Hell! there are people that say the weird storms we've been having are the judgement of God due to all 'the drunken fornicating hipsters' we get every summer."

...

"Anything?"

"Nada!"

"Not even a jellyfish" Sam muttered shaking his head.

"You're just disappointed there weren't any freaky monster corpses."

Sam and Dean stood side by side on the windswept beach looking out to sea in silence for a while.

"Well, maybe hoping for hex bags or enochian symbols carved in the rocks, or anything at all...was a bit much to hope for, how many times has the tide been in and out here since the last body washed up? Besides this is only where they washed up, Scott says they could have drowned miles from here. The currents funnel stuff to shore in certain places..."

"Yeah, I know." Dean scuffed his boot in the sand and looked up at his brother "man this case blows!" He bent down and picked up a clear light blue piece of glass from the sand, held it up to the sun.

"What's that?"

"Glass I guess" Dean muttered handing it over "maybe you can decorate your sandcastle with it" Sam sighed deeply then shoved it into his pocket absent mindedly.

"I admit, this whole thing's a bit too much like real police work" Sam swiped his sea blown hair out of his face in irritation "I guess next we interview the families."

Dean made a face "Great, well you get to ride in the back on the way home." He gestured towards Scott who sat waiting in the Polaris.

"What? I thought you were having the time of your life back there."

"Oh, I was, but you need to live a little Sammy, let the wind blow through your hair, Rapunzel. Up your protein intake by eatin' a few bugs, that sort of thing."

"Jerk."

"Here catch" his brother tossed him a bottle of sunscreen "Don't say I do nothing for you, can't have you gettin' all sun burnt Princess Snow White."

"Uh, thanks" Sam hummed in surprise.

"You've been spending too much time in your ivory tower Bro. Besides, it's my job to take care of you Sammy" Dean muttered indulgently watching his brother apply the sunscreen.

Sam didn't see his brothers evil grin as he turned and climbed in the cab.

…..

"So, find anything helpful?" Scott inquired.

"We ticked the boxes" Dean shrugged noncommittally."

"So back to base?"

"Yeah, thanks kid. Take your time, got something happening that, needs time to develop" Dean chuckled to himself.

"Hu?"

"A bit of payback on Agent Bonaduce, we got a competition goin' on" Dean smirked.

...

"Hey Scott thanks" Sam leaned into the Polaris.

Scott's eyes widened in shock and he looked sideways at Dean, Dean grinned back at him like a kid at the fair and hopped out.

"Uh, I'll text you Doris' number" Scott said eyeing Sam strangely and waved the card with their contact details, before driving off quickly.

"He looked like he saw a ghost." Sam offered puzzled.

"No, definitely not a ghost Sam, gotta go get somethin' from the car, then we can clean up, eat and make with the interviewing."

"There're dead bugs in my hair aren't there?"

...

Sam stood in front of the mirror, his mouth open in shock.

No, not a ghost ... he was definitely... he was definitely WAYyyy too, orange to be a ghost. His mind back tracked over recent events as the penny dropped.

"DEANnnnn!" He bellowed, the muscles along his jaw jumping in fury.

"I take it terracotta, isn't you" Dean rumbled in amusement from the doorway.

Sam lunged across the room and grabbed the front of his brothers shirt.

"It Is Not Funny" he grated in fury then pushed his brother away from him in disgust.

"Wellll it sort of is, Sammy" eyebrows raised he lifted his hands in surrender "Easy, easy! Here" he tossed his brother a lemon and a canister of salt.

"What the?"

"Like in the movie "The wedding planner," mix then scrub, scrub. You are su-ch a melodramatic bitch, it's on-ly a little fashion disaster, not the end of the world" Dean said mildly then proceeded to take out his phone and snap a few photos for good measure.

Sam looked down at the salt and lemon feeling completely flummoxed and deflated.

"You're calling ME a bitch while giving me fashion advice based on a bad RomCom?" Sam huffed "Dude I'm sooo gonna tell Jodie on you!" He declared slamming the bathroom door to get the last word.

A/N So Sam, the balls back in your court, are you going to admit defeat or up the anti?

Ideas guys! Thanks to SpnK15 for your help deciding how to torture Sam in this chapter. To all of you silent lurkers (I don't know who you are, but, according to the stats I stumbled across while trying to post this chapter there are more of you than I'd dare hope) toss me a comment, even if it's just to complain about my excessive use of commas. It gives me the encouragement to prioritise writing this and since 'The School Holidays Of Doom' are upon us prioritisation is the only way 'Time Can Be Made.'