Authors' Note – Thanks to all who have read/reviewed so far. You'll be happy to know that we are not drunk tonight, but we are working on it. (We do not have alcohol dependency issues – we are on vacation. A drunken, fic writing, ice-cream eating vacation. ) Whilst we do not need your judgement, we do need your reviews!
Episode Five – Part Two
'Black Eyed Dog'
x-x-x
As the trio of hunters proceeded hesitantly down the sidewalk of Carthage's main street, their attention was drawn to the shell of one particular building. Surrounded by various construction materials and with scaffolding affixed to the front wall, the old hardware store was being rebuilt from the ground up.
Jo paused to stare at the frontage of the building, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she thought back to her mother's final few moments and the sacrifice she had made for them all.
She jumped slightly as Dean squeezed her hand, trying to lead her away from the scene of Ellen's death, a place that also haunted his own nightmares.
"Jo, don't... come on," he urged, releasing her hand and instead looping his arm around her waist to draw her close and avert her gaze.
Jo nodded, rubbing her hand over her face and forcing a smile. Sam placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently, bestowing a sympathetic smile upon her as she inhaled a steadying breath.
"I'm fine guys, really," she assured them, once again reminded of why she was so incredibly thankful to have both men in her life. Whilst her relationship with Dean had perhaps been the only positive thing to have come out of the events in Carthage, she also cherished the friendship she had built with Sam. He had become akin to a brother to Jo, and as she had found herself falling deeper in love with Dean over the past ten months, she had also forged a bond with the younger Winchester.
"Let's get this over with," Sam said quietly, striding towards the mouth of the alley at the corner of the street. The alleyway was crawling with uniformed officers, and lengths of luminous crime scene tape blocked off the entrance from public view.
Passersby had gathered along the street in huddles, and were whispering amongst themselves as they nevertheless attempted to catch a glimpse of the scene. Jo swallowed back the panic she felt swirling in her gut and forced herself to follow in Sam and Dean's wake. She focused on her breathing, afraid that if she did not she may hyperventilate.
Dean released his hold on her and Jo felt her heartbeat quicken. They ducked underneath the yellow tape barrier and, withdrawing their ID badges, approached the officer who stood in the centre of the investigation.
Jo blinked rapidly, the edges of her vision beginning to swim, and as a dog barked excitedly from somewhere on the street, she released a sharp hiss of breath. Sam and Dean were already engaged in a conversation with the officer in charge, seeming not to notice Jo's absence at their side as they upheld their professional fronts. Jo's head whipped sideways as the incessant clicking of a camera shutter resounded throughout the alley, and her heart began to hammer in her chest.
"I'm right here."
The sound of Dean's voice startled her as he whispered softly in her ear and placed his hand momentarily on her waist. He was keeping a watchful eye on her from his peripheral vision and had noted each decidedly nervous moment.
Jo managed to muster a smile before they rounded the corner of the alleyway and were confronted with the remains of the ill-fated bar owner.
Her hand flying up to cover her mouth, Jo turned her head away as the three hunters took in the scene before them with a collective grimace. The sound of buzzing flies hovering around the body made Dean feel instantly nauseous, and he felt his palms grow damp with sweat as he surveyed what was left of the late Mr. Chambers.
"Oh my God," Sam rasped, staring down for a second at his feet as he spied what appeared to be sections of the man's internal organs scattered across the ground and spattered against the wall.
"I gotta get out of here," Jo balked, her eyes widening as she spied the deep claw marks running up the man's torso. Turning on her heel, she walked briskly from the crime scene, leaving Dean and Sam staring after her retreating form.
Sam moved forwards and, removing a camera from the pocket of his jacket, began hastily snapping a succession of images. Dean stood rooted to the spot, his eyes affixed on the deep gashes that seemed to have turned the man's innards to ribbons.
"I don't think I can do this Sammy," Dean whispered, his tone husky and overcome with emotion. He blinked as a succession of memories bombarded him, and when he glanced down at his own hands, the image of Jo's blood staining them was all too fresh in his mind.
"Just take a deep breath bro," Sam soothed, exchanging a curt nod with a passing police officer who was beginning to clear a path for a couple of stretcher bearers from the local coroner's office. Sam knew that time was of the essence, and so he began to move around the scene with his camera, snapping pictures where he could.
Dean shook his head in an effort to dispel the nightmarish images that plagued his mind, and shot a glance at the body of the barman before it was removed from the scene.
"Theory is some kind of wild animal," a voice barked from Dean's side, "but I don't see how that's possible. Not in this area, anyhow."
Dean turned to regard the young officer who stood at his side, his arms folded across his chest and an inexplicably smug smile stretched taught across his lips. He shot a smirk at Dean and then gestured towards the corpse with his head.
"Looks like your partner couldn't handle things," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling as though he was enjoying the prospect. "She's out front, tossing her cookies. I can't believe the Feds. allow women on the job."
"Get out of the way, ass-wipe," Dean growled, shoving past the bewildered and now deflated officer. He strode out of the alleyway and back toward the main street.
Dean sighed heavily as he found Jo crouched down over the curb. Her complexion had significantly paled and she wrapped her arms around her midsection as she promptly vomited into the gutter. Dean bent down at her side, holding her hair back from her face as he rubbed her back in a comforting gesture.
Sitting back on the edge of the curb, Jo wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and closed her eyes. Her stomach continued to churn and a shudder wracked her entire body.
Not knowing what to say, Dean merely stroked her hair, watching helplessly as tears trickled down her cheeks, "Jo, I..."
"I'll be fine, Dean," she assured him with grim determination, producing a stick of gum from her pocket and hurriedly tossing it into her mouth.
"We shouldn't have come," Dean stated bitterly, shaking his head as he mentally berated himself for ever having chosen to follow Castiel's orders.
"We had to," she replied, staring out across the street as memories of that fateful day flickered unrelentingly before her minds' eye.
"Come on." Dean slid his hand under her elbow in order to help her to her feet and then secured his arm around her waist to steady her, "We're going back to the motel, we know what did this. Now all we gotta do is find it, kill it, and get the hell out of here."
"Or wait for it to find us," Jo added quietly, fear tainting her voice. Dean could do nothing but nod in unwilling agreement.
Sam rounded the corner and Dean gestured to the car. He led Jo back over to the Impala ignoring the curious stares of the police officers as he placed his hand in the centre of her back.
"I really wish you hadn't just seen me throw up," Jo smiled despite her misery, avoiding Dean's gaze as a blush rose up her otherwise pallid complexion.
Dean chuckled despite the severity of the situation and pulled open the passenger side door for Jo, who slipped inside the car gratefully and wasted little time in buckling her seatbelt. Without a word, Sam clambered into the backseat and set about flipping through the photographs he had taken on the screen of his digital camera.
"I'm sorry guys," Jo said quietly as the Impala roared away from the curb, and Dean set out in the direction of their motel again. They sped past the various street signs, crossings and traffic lights without Dean so much as inching his foot off the accelerator.
"You got nothing to be sorry about Jo," Sam said kindly, offering Jo a smile as she glanced at him in the rear view mirror. He noted the dark circles lining her eyes and the ashen tone of her usually peachy skin.
"This job is gonna be a quick one," Dean spat, determination evident in both his tone and expression. "After this, we're done with angels and their crap."
Sam seemed to pause on one particular image on the camera, but he did not bother to share it with either Dean or Jo. Instead, he spoke up, almost hesitant.
"Cas at least gave us half the story," he said, carefully picking his way through his choice of words so as not to ignite a further spark of anger within Dean. "We know the hound is being controlled, we just need to find out by whom. If we can link the victims somehow then maybe we can track it down before it's let out again."
"You think someone's keeping it locked up?" Jo inquired, shuddering at the thought. She stifled a yawn behind the back of her hand and shot a glance at her wristwatch, grimacing as she realised that she had been operating now for almost two days on no more than a couple of hours sleep. She dared not close her eyes, as every time Jo entertained the idea of sleep, she was assailed by visions of the explosion that had ultimately claimed Ellen Harvelle's life. Tentatively, Jo placed her palm to her midsection where she knew below her shirt lurked the silvery scars that served as her daily reminder of her last brush with a hound.
A hand came to rest over hers and she glanced up to find Dean staring at her with obvious concern.
"You want to grab a couple hours of shut eye, whilst Sam and I go through the list of victims?" Dean offered, already prepared for Jo's imminent refusal.
Jo shook her head, just as Dean knew she would, and leant back against the leather upholstery as they turned into the motel parking lot.
"I'll go change and then we can look over the police reports?" Sam suggested, waiting until Dean had brought the car to a stop before he unclipped his belt and opened the door.
"I'm gonna take a shower," Jo announced. She wanted nothing more than to escape her restrictive suit and slip into more comfortable clothing. A bitter, acidic taste now lingered in her mouth, and a tight knot had formed in her stomach to accompany it.
"Can you give us a half hour, Sammy?" Dean asked. He hoped to persuade Jo to eat something before they became even further embroiled in the gruesome details of the case. Dean was fairly certain that no more than a cup of coffee had passed her lips in the last forty-eight hours.
"Sure," Sam agreed, patting Jo's shoulder as he stepped out of the car and dug in his pocket for his room key. He disappeared around the corner, leaving Jo and Dean to amble in silence towards their room, which for once was not located next door to Sam's.
"You want to grab late lunch?" Dean feigned casualness as he shot a glance at his wristwatch.
"I'm not hungry," Jo answered in an almost apologetic tone. She knew that her apparent refusal to either eat or sleep would be serving as a constant source of worry to Dean, but despite her best efforts she could not force her body to tolerate either.
"You have to eat Jo," Dean coaxed. They paused outside their room and Dean foraged in his pocket for the key card. As she waited, Jo rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, her eyes darting about the lot as though she were afraid they were being watched.
"I will," she promised, offering Dean a smile and reaching across the space that separated them in order to touch his cheek. She dropped her hand almost as soon as her fingers had made contact with his skin and, as Dean focused his eyes upon hers, he detected the absolute terror that lurked within them.
"I won't let anything hurt you," Dean blurted out, his voice having faded to a husky whisper that betrayed his own fear. Jo faltered for a moment, finding nothing adequate to say and so instead opting to maintain her silence.
"I know you're scared," Dean continued, rubbing the nape of his neck as he talked, "but I promise you Jo, I'd die before I'd let anything or anyone touch you."
With a watery smile, Jo answered softly, "That's what I'm afraid of."
x-x-x
Pressing his hand to his forehead in an attempt to shake himself from a weary haze, Dean leant back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair. He leafed through the crime reports from the two previous murders, grimacing as he cast his gaze over the photographs of the bodies; each one had been viciously maimed and mutilated to the point of requiring dental records for a definite identification.
Staring covertly across the room, Dean watched Jo as she sipped at a cup of coffee and continued marking out points of interest to their case on a local map. He smiled as Jo's brow furrowed whilst she worked, tapping the tip of the pencil against her lower lip. The urge to reach out and pull her into his arms was almost overpowering, yet he knew that in her present focused state, she was free from the fear that had consumed them all of late.
Sam was busy reading through witness reports and statements from family members of the deceased, but Dean could not quite remember his own role in the research process.
Puffing his cheeks out as boredom began to plague him, Dean reached across the table and pulled an open bag of potato chips closer. Sam shot him a brief glance as Dean tossed a handful of chips into his mouth and crunched them loudly. However, the younger Winchester returned to work without a word, aware that Dean was simply attempting to distract himself from his dangerously wandering thoughts.
When a sudden frenzied barking whipped up from below the outside window, the three hunters looked up from their respective tasks in alarm. Jo's eyes froze wide in horror and she seemed unable to move from her position stretched out across the bed. Sam was on his feet in an instant, seizing the shotgun that had been propped up at his side against the table leg and cocking it in one fluid motion.
Dean swallowed his mouthful of chips and reached into his jacket pocket to withdraw the handgun he kept there.
"Dean..." Jo whispered, her voice trembling as an eerie keening echoed around the parking lot. Pressing his index finger to his lips, Dean climbed to his feet and approached the window with measured steps.
Sam shot Jo a glance and beckoned her towards him, realising that in her current state she would prove little help to either of the brothers should a fight ensue. Without protest, Jo stumbled to her feet and began to cross the room towards Sam, who held his hand out in a gesture of intended reassurance. That was when the window shattered, glass fragments flying inwards as though something enormous and heavy had connected with the frame.
Before Dean could so much as take a step, a series of unearthly growls heralded the hell hound's arrival and, within seconds, Jo had been knocked to the floor.
"Jo!" Dean yelled, rushing forward as Sam struggled to take aim. He fired two shots that apparently missed the beast's body entirely and instead became embedded in the wall behind.
Jo kicked and struggled against her attacker as Dean reached out to pull her free. But his speed was no match for the creature and before his hand could connect with hers, her blood curdling screams filled the air.
Dean's eyes widened as four large talon marks suddenly appeared across Jo's abdomen, and blood began to pool unrelentingly from the wounds. Attempting to move between her and the hell hound, he dropped to his knees, firing three shots in quick succession. A startled yelp alerted him to the fact that he had struck the creature and a spot of black blood began to trickle onto the carpet below.
"Sammy! Help me!" Dean yelled, his desperation palpable as he kicked out at the air above Jo's body and received a responding snarl. Jo cried out again as a further set of deep track marks appeared across her collar bone, and her brown eyes grew large in response to the agony that overwhelmed her.
"Dean, get down," Sam barked, barely waiting for his brother to fling himself to the ground before he proceeded to empty the entire contents of the barrel of his shotgun into the creature. Each shell vanished into thin air as it connected with it's target and, with a pained howl, the hound lashed out at Jo one final time before the sound of talons scrabbling against glass signified it's attempt at escape. Thick, ebony blood leaked out a trail to the window ledge, and the hellhound whimpered as it disappeared into the parking lot.
Dean scrabbled across the glass strewn floor, ignoring the shards that dug into his palms as he made his way to Jo's side. He lifted Jo across his knee, tears already welling in his eyes as she stared back up at him. Her face was ashen, and blood spattered across her cheeks and the front of her hair was stained red.
Jo opened her mouth in an attempt to speak but her breath merely escaped her in a short, sharp gasp and she cried out in pain as she lifted a shaking hand up toward Dean's face; their eyes connected for the briefest moment and Dean struggled to catch his own breath at the realisation that Jo's life was ebbing away.
Running his eyes frantically over her body, he vaguely registered Sam talking to the 911 operator, yet he knew that Jo would not live to see the EMT's arrive.
"Just hang on, just..." he swallowed hard, watching as tears tripped her cheeks and she shook her head, the reality of the situation becoming too great to deny.
Dean stared down at the ground, terror consuming him as dark red blood spewed from beneath Jo and soaked through the fabric of his jeans. Her eyelids fluttered closed and he felt her body grow limp in his arms.
"Jo? Jo? No! Please, Jo...sweetheart, don't... " Dean cried out, pressing down in a futile gesture on the largest of her wounds, as he held her in his arms, pleading with her not to leave him.
Her hand dropped to her side and Dean rocked her body in his arms, pressing his face into her neck as he continued to call out her name.
"Dean..." he heard Sam whisper. A hand gripped his shoulder hard and shook him forcibly. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he murmured Jo's name over and over. He trembled.
"Dean!" Sam repeated, his tone growing more urgent. Dean lashed out at his brother as Sam attempted to haul him away from Jo, chanting his name like a mantra.
"No," Dean yelled, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion as he struck out and felt his hand connect with solid flesh. He was vaguely aware of a muffled cry of pain but, hardly caring, Dean struck out again and again.
"Dean... Dean..." Sam demanded, and suddenly a hard slap landed against Dean's jaw, jolting him into consciousness.
Dean's eyes fluttered open with a start, and he found himself almost nose to nose with Sam, as he sat up on the bed, his heart hammering in his ears.
"Seriously, man..." Sam muttered, pressing his hand to his cheek where Dean had lashed out at him in his sleep.
His chest heaving, Dean raked his hand through his hair as his eyes darted around the room. "Where's Jo? Is she okay?"
A hand suddenly slid across the back of his neck and he realised Jo was sitting alongside him, both she and Sam staring at him in an equal measure of bemusement and concern.
"You having a nightmare or something?" Sam enquired, watching as Dean made no attempt to reply and threw his arms around Jo. He hauled her onto his lap and buried his face in the warmth of her neck.
"Oh my God, Jo..." he rasped, closing his eyes and shuddering as the violent imagery of his dream pervaded his mind.
"It's okay," Jo soothed, dropping her voice to a gentle whisper as Sam moved to sit at the table once again, clearly uncomfortable.
"It's okay," she repeated. Dean's distress was clear and she made no effort to pull away as he swept his hands desperately over her body to assure himself that she was indeed unharmed.
"I'm sorry..." Dean choked out, finally drawing away from Jo and smoothing both palms across her cheeks.
"Hey, why do you think I've been resisting taking a little nap?" Jo murmured, understanding radiating from her features as she brushed her lips against Dean's forehead in a tender kiss.
"We got any ice?" Sam demanded, rubbing at the raw spot on his cheek and shooting Dean a pointed glare. His expression was far from angry however, and his eyes conveyed both his sympathy and forgiveness. After all, Sam was accustomed to the panic and fear that accompanied such nightmares.
"Sorry dude," Dean apologised, shrugging off his shirt which was now near drenched through with sweat.
"Coffee?" Jo inquired with feigned brightness.
Sam let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes as he stated quietly, "I'll make a fresh pot."
"You wanna tell me what it was about?" Jo asked. Knowing all too well the fears that currently plagued all three hunters; she assumed she could make an educated guess as to the basis of his nightmare. Dean shook his head firmly and arched an eyebrow.
"No," he stated, feeling his breathing gradually slow to a normal rate as he nuzzled against her cheek and inhaled the sweet, vanilla scent of her perfume. The familiarity calmed him, and he tried to banish all thoughts from his mind save for the feel of her skin against his own.
Jo murmured soothingly and brushed her lips across his cheek, and she emitted a gentle squeak of surprise as Dean's lips descended on hers and she found herself drawn into a tender, yet desperate kiss. They drew apart after a moment, only to remain in an embrace, Jo sitting astride his knee with her arms wound around his neck.
"We'll get through this," Sam promised, "all three of us."
He placed two mugs of coffee on the nightstand and mustered his most confident expression, but his optimism was met with considerable scepticism.
Dean merely nodded, his features darkening as he blinked away persistent flashes of his dream and his fingers dug into Jo just that little bit tighter.
The ringing of her cell phone caused Jo to extract herself hurriedly from his grasp, and she pressed a kiss to his lips before jumping down from his knee.
"That'll be the reporter from the newspaper," she speculated, hurrying over to the table to retrieve her phone.
Dean stared after her, picking up his coffee mug with disinterest and sighing as Sam sank down at his side. The brothers sat in silence for a few minutes before Sam cleared his throat and followed the path of Dean's gaze to the blonde hunter.
"Carthage?" Sam speculated in a gentle tone. Holding his own mug between his hands, he stared down in contemplation at his lap.
"No actually," Dean replied, shooting Sam a wan smile, "seems my subconscious has a little more imagination than we thought."
Sam arched an eyebrow and surprise flickered across his features, before he raised his mug to his lips and took a long sip. He swallowed and only when he had lowered his mug back into his lap did he attempt to reply.
"I won't let anything happen to her, Dean," Sam assured, careful to keep his voice low so as not to attract Jo's attention. "I just want you to know that."
"Thanks Sammy," said Dean, his throat growing suddenly unbearably tight as emotion threatened to overcome his now composed demeanour.
"I know how much she means to you," Sam continued. Jo shot a quizzical smile at the brothers as they both watched her keenly. "The way Dad loved Mom and... and the way I felt about Jess. So, I get it, I do. And I'm right here with you dude, I won't let anything happen to her."
Dean mulled over Sam's words as he peered across the room at Jo with a faraway look in his eyes, "That's what I'm afraid of Sam. The guys in our family aren't exactly lucky in love; I don't want Jo to end up like Mom and Jess did."
"I think..." Sam began, swallowing the painful lump that arose in his throat, "I think that had more to do with the life we lead than the guys in our family, Dean. Hunting, well... it's not exactly a family friendly vocation."
"Maybe," Dean shrugged, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he added mournfully, "but then, sometimes I think I love her too much, you know?"
Sam stared evenly at his brother, comprehending and empathising with his words, yet nonetheless angered by them.
"No," Sam said definitely, "I think you should stop being afraid of the 'what ifs'. Deal with them if you have to. But don't meet trouble half way."
"It's not as easy as it sounds, Sam," Dean replied, and although his voice was weary it was also patient. Dean was not entirely certain that Sam knew the extent to which he had closed off his emotions over the years. Sarcasm and humour had often served as Dean's only defence mechanism, and he had utilised them well in his never-ending battle to avoid getting too close to people or situations. The thing that scared Dean most, was the almost certain knowledge he held that should anything ever happen to the one woman he had lowered his guard for, then he would be irreparably broken, just like his father. John Winchester had been a good man but his mistakes had been numerous, and Dean did not intend to mirror them. Loving Jo was not a mistake, rather, Dean recognised it as his one true weakness; the idea of ever living without her stopped his heart dead.
"It's as easy as you make it," Sam responded, draining the coffee from his mug and then fixing Dean with a somewhat judgemental frown. "We're family, the three of us- we take the good with the bad and, well, we kick the bad's ass when we can. I care about Jo too, but I'm smart enough to understand that she isn't Mom, and she isn't Jess. You have no idea what's around the corner Dean, so just don't try second guess it and ruin a good thing."
"Woah, that was kind of deep, dude," Dean observed, one side of his mouth twitching upwards in a half smile that Sam met with a nod.
"It was," Sam agreed with a smirk, standing up from the bed with a self-assured nod.
"And I'm not." Dean referred back to Sam's advice, his tone hesitant and self-conscious. "I'm not gonna ruin a good thing. I love her. So much, that sometimes I have these crazy ideas... getting married... maybe popping out a kid, or two."
"That's not crazy, Dean," Sam interrupted his brother's lament and affixed him with what he hoped was a stern expression, "and if you both want those things, you gotta go for them. There's no certainty in anyone's life, hunter or not... you think that bar guy woke up yesterday morning and thought he'd wind up being hell hound kibble? The bad things are gonna find us, Dean, we just gotta make up for them with the good. And you and Jo, that's a good thing."
Dean laughed softly, smiling at his brother's innate wisdom and the truth behind his words, "You got all the smart genes, huh?"
Sam nodded and shot him a taunting smirk, "Guess they went hand in hand with the height genes."
"Hey, you're just freakishly tall," Dean groused, biting back a smirk as both men's attention became focused on Jo. She sauntered back over and perched on the edge of the bed next to Dean, glancing between both brothers as she spoke.
"Okay, so the reporter is going to meet us for lunch at the diner," Jo announced, having persuaded the woman to meet with them by spinning a well used cover story, whereby the three hunters became prospective authors, researching strange occurrences across small town America.
"She know anything about the murders?" Dean asked, realising that in a town such as Carthage, bad news travelled fast. Jo shrugged and lay back against the bed as she found herself overcome by a series of yawns.
"She said she had a couple of theories, I guess we'll have to wait and see. Oh..." she frowned suddenly and leant up on her elbows as she regarded Sam, "I kind of told her you were a parapsychologist from MIT."
"Better dust off that lab coat Dr. Venkman," Dean smirked, turning his attention to Jo and the tiny strip of skin that was now exposed on her abdomen, as she lay with her arms above her head.
Jo caught his wandering gaze and held up a hand to him in warning, "Don't even think about it, Winchester!"
She arched an eyebrow pointedly, attempting to decipher the look in his eyes. Yet instead of the crazed tickling assault she had been anticipating, Dean simply leaned over her and kissed her. He bestowed a lingering smile upon her before standing and crossing the room. Dean rubbed his hands over his face as he tried to dispel the last vestiges of sleep, determined now that he would not succumb to slumber again until the hellhound had been dispatched.
"Sammy, you better keep that coffee coming."
x-x-x
The reporter they had intended to meet with was running late, affording the hunters time to order as they waited. Whilst Jo sipped at her soda, Sam spread mayo on his turkey club sandwich, and Dean took a hefty bite from a grilled steak sub. Every so often he would wordlessly slide his plate across the table to Jo, urging her with his eyes to share his meal. Thus far, he had succeeded in force-feeding her three fries and the slice of tomato he had abandoned from his sandwich in disgust. It was hardly a significant achievement, but Dean was grateful for baby steps.
"What are we hoping to find out here?" Dean inquired between mouthfuls as he glanced at his watch in irritation only to discover that the time for their meeting had elapsed now by more than an hour. "If this woman ever damn well shows."
"She'll show," Jo informed him with surprising confidence. She rested her hand absently on Dean's knee and shot him a smile. "I told her we were writing a book, and that we were interested in the more unusual criminal cases the surrounding area had to offer. I threw out a few hints about this particular case and she couldn't wait to show me the evidence she'd collected. Says she has a theory, and maybe even a suspect, but the police aren't real interested in talking to her."
Dean frowned, his brows furrowed as he pressed, "Why? Does she sound crazy?"
"Define crazy," Jo stated, biting back a smirk and then shaking her head as Dean held out his half eaten sandwich towards her. He shot Jo a chiding glance but she simply looked away.
"Please?" he redoubled his efforts, pushing his plate toward her and gesturing for her to eat at least one of the greasy fries.
Sighing in defeat, Jo swiped a fry from the plate and nibbled on it, widening her eyes at him to emphasise her obedience.
"Thank you." Dean gave a charming smile before sinking his teeth into his sandwich with vigour.
"Think this is her?" Sam asked, watching as a petite redhead strode through the door with a laptop bag slung over her shoulder, and a flustered expression on her face.
Glancing across the crowded diner, the woman focused in on the trio, her eyes narrowing analytically as she made her way through the maze of tables and booths and paused beside them.
"Jo?" she frowned, looking to the blonde hunter quizzically.
"Hi... Danielle?" Jo checked, smiling in greeting at their newest contact.
Beaming, the reporter sank into the vacant spot in the booth next to Sam and wasted little time in settling her bag on the tabletop.
"That's me. Let's get down to business, shall we?" the woman suggested, not even bothering to offer an apology for her late appearance. Dean arched an eyebrow but swallowed a sarcastic quip with a gulp of his soda.
"Sure," Jo agreed, seemingly unperturbed by the woman's attitude. She reached across the table in order to accept a bundle of papers that Danielle offered her, which were secured together by a single paperclip. Jo flipped through the pages quickly, and scanned them with equal haste.
"This is Professor Winchester," Jo said, a smile twitching at her lips as she gestured to Sam, who reached out and shook the reporter's proffered hand with evident embarrassment. "And this is Danielle Gordon, the reporter from the newspaper I mentioned."
"Professor," Danielle purred, smoothing down her hair with the palm of one hand as she affixed Sam with an almost predatory stare. He gulped, and pushed aside his plate.
"Good to meet you," Sam began, flicking a murderous glare at Jo as he noted the delight spread across her features. "Miss. Gordon, what can you tell us about the recent spate of murders in town?"
"Just about anything you need to know," Danielle replied, tossing her hair and letting out a loud, rather effected laugh punctuated by a snort. Dean cringed, and Sam seemed to sink further into his seat, whilst Jo positioned her hand in front of her mouth, feigning a cough in order to mask the chuckle that escaped her.
"Jo mentioned that you had a few theories," Dean pressed, taking the papers from Jo.
"Well, like I told your wife, not much goes on around these parts that the Chronicle doesn't know about," Danielle smiled proudly, failing to intercept the blush that rose up Jo's cheeks as a result of her mistake.
Dean nodded, ignoring the reporter's error, and even smiling at the inference as the woman continued on. Her eyes always somehow seemed trained on Sam and, noting as much, he squirmed in his seat. The younger Winchester felt his cheeks burn, and he took a sip of his drink to mask the tellingly nervous smile he felt sure was about to betray him.
"So... Doug Chambers, the bar owner," Danielle began, leaning forward in her seat as if about to impart some great secret, "he's the third stiff in the last two weeks."
Dean smirked at her terminology and gestured for her to continue.
"Well, before that it was Matt Hutchinson and a couple of days before that, George Raymond got all... chewed on. Now, the cops are trying to say it's animal attacks, but if you ask me... there's something entirely funky going on in this town."
"Uh... funky?" Sam questioned, leaning back in his seat. Danielle seemed to be inching ever closer to him.
"A wild animal in this place?" Danielle practically snorted at the idea, not pausing to even draw a breath as she ploughed on, "no way. Not unless someone brought it here. Like on purpose... to do their bidding... or something."
Dean almost choked on the fry he had popped into his mouth only moments before as his amusement overcame him. Jo sent a swift elbow in the vicinity of his ribs and Dean managed to straighten up, and simultaneously contain his laughter.
"You think someone is holding a wild animal captive, and setting it on their enemies?" Sam checked, hardly believing his ears. Danielle nodded, sucking on her front teeth as she stared at Sam, transfixed by his wide, hazel eyes.
"I read all the police reports... coroner ones too... though I guess I'm not really meant to have those..." she winked at Sam and her smile became that of a co-conspirator. "Anyways, they all said the three bodies looked to have been mauled by a mountain lion. Giant teeth marks, claw marks that went all the way through to bone... and get this, all three of the victims were in some kind of dispute with one person... Frank Trudoe."
"Dispute?" Jo queried, slapping at Dean's hand as he attempted to wrestle the reports, complete with photographs, from her grasp. He seemed to be operating under the illusion that Jo had not seen their own copies of the images, and was striving to do his best to ensure that remained the case.
Danielle grinned in mild amusement at their little domestic, starting slightly as the table rattled and Dean simultaneously winced.
Jo ignored the pained glance Dean shot in her direction and she pressed on with their discussion, "Do you know what they were fighting about?"
"Sweetie, the whole town knows what they were fighting about. Frankie, he's... well, he's kind of the town eccentric, I guess every place like this has one. But he and Matt were in high school together and everybody knows that Frank was in love with Tammy Newmar. He all but stalked her until Matt told him to back off, or... you know," she shrugged and slid the point of one index finger against her throat.
"Tammy was Matt's girlfriend?" Sam guessed, struggling to keep up with the names Danielle reeled off in quick succession.
"Yes," she confirmed with a nod. She snatched up a renegade bobby pin as it fell from her hair, and she bent it quickly between her teeth before sliding it back into her flame red tresses, "He and Matt got into this whole thing. Matt threatened him with a shotgun... you can guess the rest."
"Okay, and the other guy? George?" Dean asked, relieved to see Jo had closed the folder of crime scene photographs. Avoiding his gaze, she sidled slightly closer to him across the booth, in a clear act of repentance for the swift kick she had landed on his shin.
"Well, rumour has it that three days before he died, George denied Frank a bank loan for an undisclosed amount of money," Danielle explained, dropping her voice to a whisper as she continued, "I have contacts at the bank. They say Frank came in to discuss his finances with George, and left real quick in a foul mood. Next morning, all four tyres on George's car were slashed, and his windscreen was shattered. He filed a police report that night about a trespasser on his property, and a day later he was dead. His wife found him in their back yard... guts everywhere."
Jo swallowed hard and struggled to push away her discomfort as she queried, "What do the police think about Frank's involvement with the murders?"
Danielle snorted and, glancing casually at Sam as she did so, reached across to grip his soda and raised it to her lips. When she was done, she set the can back down on the table in front of the startled hunter and patted his leg.
"They're certain it's some wild animal that's ventured into the area all on it's own," she said in disgust, wrinkling her nose. "But this is no coincidence. A few months ago, I have it on good authority that Frank approached a couple of local tradesmen with a potential job that they all turned down. He wanted a barbed wire enclosure built in his barn. Insisted it was for his chickens."
"And you don't believe him?" Dean pressed, beginning to scrawl notes quickly on the sheets of paper the reported had given them. Danielle shook her head.
"Have to be some pretty big chickens to need twenty square feet of barbed wire," the woman said, her lips curving into a smug smile as the three hunters exchanged shocked glances.
"Wait a minute," Sam protested, "that doesn't explain the latest victim... Doug..."
"Chambers," the reporter interjected, leaning towards Sam eagerly as she pressed on, "Frank owed him money. Big money."
"Overdue bar tab?" Dean guessed. He frowned, wondering if the evidence and supposed links the reporter had thus far supplied them with were somewhat tenuous.
"Not even close," Danielle said with a chuckle. "A couple times a month, Frank and some of the other guys that hung around the bar got together to play a little poker. Frank lost big to Doug and when he didn't have the cash to pay him, he all but bet his damn farm on one final game."
"I take it he lost," Jo said dryly, rolling her eyes as she looked first to Dean and then to Sam. She could hardly believe that someone would be involved in the ruthless murder of three men for such trivial matters as money, and lust.
Danielle nodded, and added quietly, "Last thing I heard, Doug was badgering Frank to pay. Refused to let him off and even went so far as to send some guys round to put the frighteners on Frank."
"You know where we can find this Frank, guy?" Dean asked, his gaze suddenly drawn to Sam who appeared to be squinting open-mouthed out of the window.
"His place is out on Golder's Lane... he lives out of town, usually stays out of folks way. He's uh... he's kind of a loner. Not sure he'd appreciate an unannounced visit. Say..." she looked Dean over analytically, tapping her bottom lip with her pencil as she weighed him up, "you sure you're not cops?"
"Us? Cops?" Dean guffawed, both he and Jo watching in evident bemusement as Sam wordlessly stood up and left the table. Wearing a grim expression, he strode out through the door which slammed closed behind him with the jingle of a bell.
"Well where's he going?" Danielle asked, blinking as both Dean and Jo also climbed to their feet, and Dean followed, hot on his brother's heels.
"Thanks," Dean called out over his shoulder, "we'll uh... we'll send you a copy of the book!"
The reporter shook her head in surprise, watching as Jo threw down a wad of dollar bills on the table to pay for their order and then slung her bag over her shoulder.
"You're leaving too?" Danielle asked askance, realising she had lost the woman's attention minutes ago. Jo stared wide eyed out of the window. Her face visibly paled as her gaze caught up with Sam and Dean, and she felt her knees almost buckle beneath her.
"Sweetie, are you okay? You don't look so good," Danielle probed, "should I get you a glass of water? Why don't you sit back down?"
"No, no, I'm fine," Jo shook her head, managing a brief smile of thanks as she too now headed toward the door, "thanks again, it was good to meet you."
Watching the door slam shut behind the blonde's retreating figure, Danielle picked up the can of coke from the table and sighed dejectedly.
"Authors, my ass."
x-x-x
The streets of Carthage were much as she recalled them, aside from one glaringly obvious exception; Meg's lips curved into a delighted smile as she took in the site of the old hardware store, now a blackened shell supported by scaffolding. The building had sustained so much damage from the explosion that had rocked it that the metal poles securing it seemed that they would fold at the slightest pressure. Meg's satisfaction at the sight was immense and, as she strolled down the sidewalk, she swung her arms merrily and her gait became lighter. The one thing that thrilled the demon more than the destruction she had caused, was the undeniable pain she had inflicted upon the Winchester brothers in the process.
Meg's thoughts drifted back to the day that she had intercepted Dean and Sam on their way to confront Lucifer. She had rather hoped that the pack of hounds she had brought along for assurance would make short work of the brothers, and had been somewhat disappointed when it had appeared that they would escape unharmed. However, after lagging behind the rest of his party, Dean had been taken down by one of the creatures, and things had been looking decidedly more promising. When the pretty little blonde had stepped in to intervene and gotten both herself and the mouthy brunette gnawed on, Meg had been near bouncing with joy as she watched. The devastation that had seeped through Dean's features had been unlike anything Meg had ever witnessed from the generally stoic, older Winchester.
Clearly he had cared a great deal for both women, and Meg had her suspicions that the young blonde hunter had held a particularly prominent place in Dean's heart; which of course made her death that much more rewarding. It also guaranteed that should Meg's path cross with the Winchester brothers on her most recent sojourn to Carthage, she would find an opportune moment to enquire as to Dean's feelings about his 'friend's death.
With a deep sigh of satisfaction, Meg continued down the street, glancing idly into the store windows she passed. Her attentions remained focused on the injured hell hound she had been sent to retrieve. Pausing on a street corner to allow for traffic, Meg's gaze wandered over the customers seated in a nearby diner. Almost immediately, a familiar face caught her attention.
"Well, well, well," she drawled, smiling to herself as she stared through the glass at Sam Winchester. Further inspection revealed Dean to be sitting across from him at the booth, and two women filled the other vacant seats; one red head, and one blonde.
Meg watched them closely, finding something about the young woman beside Dean to be familiar, and the demon cursed under her breath as the blonde turned momentarily to face him.
Dean's arm was draped across the back of the woman's seat, and it was not difficult to detect an intimacy between them, as they sat mere millimetres apart with their bodies touching on occasion.
Forgetting her destination for the moment, Meg turned on her heel and made her way toward the window for closer inspection. When Sam, evidently sensing eyes upon him, turned to peer out of the window, Meg offered him her widest grin and raised one hand in a mocking greeting.
Don't forget folks, the 'Junkin' For Joplin' charity auction takes place this Friday, July 1st, with bidding up until 12pm GMT on July 2nd. There are a ton of awesome fandom related items up for bid, so why not check out the link on our profiles and see if anything catches your eye!
We also now have a 'Fic Request' function on our blog site, so if you'd like to send any specific fic requests to us, head on over to our blog site and complete the form! The link can be found on both Silverspoon's & WelshWitch1011's profile page.
You'll also find the second part to our newest fic, 'Jukebox Tales'.