Settling on the couch in the...what even was this room? A den? Was this what a den looked like? What even the fuck was a 'den' in a house? Yeah, because that train of thought was real pressing right now.
The four of them sat on the couch in the den, a large flat-screen TV on the stand in front of them that held their attention. Or, at least most of it.
After loading the VCR, Rebecca sat on the opposite end of the couch from Skye, handing the remote to Sam as he perched himself on the arm of the couch next to her.
None of them spoke as he pressed play, revealing footage of Zach crossing the street and heading up the walk to the front door of his apartment. The tape wasn't long, but it was damning. There was no mistaking who was on the tape. If this was their kind of case, they'd need to figure something out soon or poor Zach was screwed.
"22:04. That's just after ten." Mirroring Sam's position on the arm of the couch next to Skye, Dean looked down at Rebecca, needing confirmation as his brain spun in lazy circles, examining the small bit of information they knew from every angle he could, "You said time of death was about 10:30."
"Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape's authentic, it wasn't tampered with."
"Hey, Beck, you think we could take those beers now?" With a charming smile, Sam turned on the puppy-dog eyes, a damn near surefire way to get what he wanted from almost anyone. It was his secret weapon, only it really wasn't much of a secret, "Uh...maybe some sandwiches, too?"
"Sure thing." Standing, Rebecca was halfway out the door to head down the hall to the kitchen when Sam added sandwiches to the equation. Glancing back over her shoulder, she smiled and shook her head, "What do you think this is, Hooters?"
"I wish." Muttering under his breath without thinking about what he was saying until after he'd said it, Dean looked down at Skye, wondering if he was going to end up regretting the off-hand remark. No real way to salvage that, though that didn't mean he wouldn't try, "They have great...wings. Hots wings. Really."
"...okay. You can go to Hooters if you want, I'm not your keeper." Leaning back against the couch, Skye crossed one knee over the other, resting her clasped hands on her stomach. A whisper of amusement colored her voice as she reached over to absently pat Dean's knee, "Besides, you're not the only one that appreciates a great rack."
And if he hadn't noticed that yet, then he really hadn't been paying close enough attention.
Not quite sure how to take that comment, Dean decided discretion was the better part of valor and turned his focus on his brother. Sam had wanted Rebecca out of the room, hence the request for sandwiches, "What'd you spot, Sammy?"
"Check this out." Moving closer to the TV, Sam rewound the tape and tapped the screen as Zach's face came into view at close range, looking directly at the camera, almost as if he were intentionally making it as easy as possible to identify him.
Getting up, Skye and Dean both followed Sam's lead and moved closer to the screen, focusing on Zach's face as Sam pushed play and slowed the video to a crawl. For a split second as Zach's eyes focused on the camera, they flashed a bright white. Subtle. It was a good catch on Sam's part.
"Maybe it's just a camera flare," Dean suggested, not really believing it even as he said it.
Rolling her eyes, Skye glanced up over her shoulder at Dean, unable to resist mouthing off when he insisted on being purposefully obtuse, "If that's a camera flare, I will throw Sam out of our next motel room and cook you breakfast the next morning."
"...fuck." He knew damn well it wasn't a camera flare.
"That was the implication, yes."
"It's not like any camera flare I've ever seen. Sorry, Dean." Smiling at the fact that Skye was perfectly willing to rub it in Dean's face that he was being increasingly proven wrong about this being their kind of problem, Sam managed not to sound too smug about it, "A lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul."
"Maybe this is the thing Fido caught wind of." Tapping the screen with a fingernail, Skye studied the image on the screen for a minute, "Beck says Zach was here with her until after midnight and she just doesn't come off like she's lying."
"Maybe it's some kind of dark double of Zach's." Resisting the urge to ruffle her hair to show his appreciation for her support, figuring she wouldn't appreciate the gesture just now, Sam settled for patting her shoulder. Briefly. And even that earned him a dirty look, "Maybe it's something that looks like him but isn't."
"Like a Doppelganger."
"Would explain how he was in two places at once."
"Alright." With a resigned sigh that was more melodramatic than necessary, Dean gave in, "Let's go get a room and we'll look into it further in the morning."
It had been looking to be another long sleepless night but Skye's subconscious was apparently not on board with that. Wrapping herself in a blanket, curled up on about two square inches of mattress at the very edge of the bed, she eventually passed out. Within minutes of falling fully asleep, she'd rolled over and curled up against Dean's side, settling down as soon as he rolled over and wrapped his arms around her.
Dean, needless to say, had no problem at all with that arrangement. He might have felt bad about maybe taking advantage but...he just really didn't. He needed every advantage he could get right now, or at least that's what he told himself as he drifted off. Besides, it ended up being the best night's sleep either of them had in months. No nightmares, no monsters rearing up out of dreams to drag anyone down, no parents on the ceiling or wielding weapons made of colored wax. Just a solid six hours of sleep.
Worth it.