Episode 13 – Part 1
'The Unsocial Network'
x-x-x
Since losing the use of his legs, Bobby Singer had found himself becoming more acquainted with a heavy sense of unease than he would have liked. Alone in the house adjacent to his scrap yard, with only his guard dog for company, over time Bobby found himself becoming increasingly attuned to the various night time sounds of his environment. After he had passed six months in his chair, Bobby was certain he would be able to discern a porcupine with flatulence if it happened to be within a mile of his property. And so, one brisk January night, when the gate to the Singer salvage yard had long since been locked and Bobby had retired for the evening with a cold six pack and some Golden Girls re-runs he would rather die than admit to watching, the distinct sound of unearthly howling from out in the lot was a most unwelcome one indeed.
Bobby reached for the shotgun that was never far from his side and cocked the safety catch in the next instant. He began to wheel his chair over to the nearest window but, seeing nothing but the chill wind sweeping junk around the yard, Bobby wheeled himself backwards quickly.
He allowed himself a moment to steady his nerves, his eyes darting to the muted television screen. His hand had barely drifted back to the wheel of his chair when the second howl tore through the otherwise still night air. Bobby was pushing himself over to the front door and bolting it before he had even finished drawing a subsequent breath.
He shot a glance at the telephone mounted to the wall that he used for personal calls, wondering if some supernatural creature was about to come crashing through the window not several feet away. Swallowing down the fear that had begun to form an uncomfortable lump in his throat, Bobby slowly set out toward the phone, his eyes locked on the window, and one familiar number on his mind.
x-x-x
With a sheen of perspiration coating his skin, Dean Winchester lay prostrate on the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he found himself panting and all but gasping for breath. A wide grin gradually blossomed on his face, and he turned his head to regard his girlfriend who was curled up at his side.
The candle light caught her skin in a warm, golden glow, and he could not help but run his eyes over the gentle curves that his hands and lips had explored.
Jo ignored the sheet pooling at her hips, and used what little energy she had left to settle herself against Dean's side. Her lips pressed a tender kiss against his shoulder and he instantly wrapped her in his arms.
"We're so good at that," she grinned, glancing up at him from behind wide brown eyes as her fingertip traced over the tattoo on his chest.
Dean arched an eyebrow and nodded in happily exhausted agreement.
"Yes we are," he drawled, earning a yelp of surprise as he landed a playful slap on her rear.
Jo laughed, smiling against his lips as he kissed her eagerly and his hands swept slow, firm paths up her back.
The sudden interruption of his cell phone ringing prompted an altogether different kind of groan from the blonde than Dean preferred to hear, and he snatched up the offending item irritably from the nightstand.
Jo extracted herself from his arms and sat up in bed, running her fingers through her hair as she scanned the floor for clothing.
"Bobby? What's up man, you okay?" she heard Dean ask. However, she felt his attention focused on her still as she slipped from the bed and wrapped his discarded flannel shirt around her naked, shivering body.
Turning to face him, Jo watched a familiar frown line form in the centre of his forehead, and she perched on the end of the bed, the light-hearted mood she had been in considerably darkening.
"What is it?" she whispered, growing more and more uneasy as Dean suddenly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
He was already tugging on his pants as he stated in an urgent tone, "Just sit tight, I'll be there in ten."
Dean jammed the phone into the pocket of his jeans even as he still tried desperately to button them with one hand. Jo stooped to the floor and retrieved the t-shirt he had worn beneath his shirt, helping him to manoeuvre it over his head even as he fumbled with his boots.
"Dean, what's going on?" Jo demanded, her expression now purely one of concern as she watched Dean's movements, which could only be described as frantic. He moved towards the door without pausing to kiss her, a sure sign that something was somehow amiss, and stopped only momentarily to swipe up the keys to the Impala from the top of his chest of drawers.
"There's something in Bobby's yard," he stated, working hard to iron out any wrinkles of fear in his tone, "I'm going to go check it out. I'll be back as soon as I know everything is safe."
"Want me to come with?" Jo inquired, tossing Dean his jacket, which he caught in one hand with a grateful smile. He shook his head and moved back towards the door, treading lightly on the floorboards so as not to wake Sophia or Sam, who each slept on oblivious in their respective rooms.
"Nothing Bobby and I can't handle," Dean assured her, winking as he added, "don't wait up."
With that, the door closed quietly behind Dean, and Jo stole back into their bed, pulling the patchwork comforter that her grandmother had stitched up around her chin. She glanced once at the clock on the bedside table, memorising the time, before her gaze drifted to the ceiling, and she began her wait for Dean's safe return.
x-x-x
The Impala drew up to the front of the old scrap yard less than fifteen minutes later, partly due to the lack of any other vehicles on the road at that hour, and Dean's foot having been firmly pressed down on the gas for the entire journey.
Killing the engine, Dean paused to hit 'send' on his cell phone, and the short, yet pointed message destined for his girlfriend drifted into the ether. Having left in such a hurry, without any form of proper goodbye, Dean had felt it necessary to send a brief 'I love you', just in case. Whilst he had made a point over the last year or so to not let the pessimistic side of his nature win over, experience was a tough master. Whenever they left for a hunt, or would be separated for any given amount of time, a kiss goodbye had become the norm; purely because deep down inside, Dean could not believe that he would be allowed to continue on in the life he now lived. There was always a deep seated fear that whatever the occasion of their parting, it would be the last time he saw Jo.
Jamming his phone in his pocket, he reached for the gun on the seat beside him and swung open the car door. Almost immediately a mournful, unearthly howl filled his ears, and his brow furrowed as he tried to place what manner of beast or other worldly creature the cry had emanated from.
Dean closed the Impala door as quietly as possible, before turning on his heel in the direction of the howling. Step after step carried him into the jungle of abandoned car carcasses, which Dean and Sam had once played hide and seek within as children, despite their father's disapproval. It was easy enough to get lost as a child between the great, hulking metal husks, but that had been half the thrill of their game; for a young Winchester, where there was no danger, there was no fun. However, as he had grown older, and arguably somewhat wiser, Dean's opinions on that matter had shifted, but he still recalled their childish game with fondness. However, it was a trip down memory lane he would rather not have revisited in the early hours of the morning with an unidentified panting beast somewhere in the vicinity.
As quietly as he could, Dean clicked the safety catch off his revolver, which he had loaded with silver bullets from the Impala's trunk as a precaution. The barrel held only five rounds, and Dean had managed to ferret out only three silver bullets. He knew that, should he come face to face with the beast, he had to make every shot count.
Dean crept around the back of a pick-up that was mounted on bricks and missing one door, clutching his gun like the lifeline it was. His eyes darted about in the darkness, picking out potential hulking shadowy masses and then dismissing them with practiced ease. He continued to move forward for several minutes, his breathing low and even, and barely audible. He knew, however, that the creature would already be aware of his presence. Yet still, Dean was unprepared when the powerful body reared up off its hind legs and launched itself at him from across the scrap yard.
The hunter went down hard, his breath leaving his body in a whoosh, and a single shot left the barrel of his gun as his finger twitched on impulse around the trigger.
Inside his house, Bobby Singer winced, and his gnarled old fingers closed around the neck of his shotgun a little tighter.
x-x-x
Fumbling for his gun, which had landed in the dirt beside him, Dean stared up at the huge, jowly creature, as two gigantic paws landed on either side of his neck.
It's teeth glinted menacingly in the moonlight, and as it reared it's head back and prepared to attack, Dean braced himself for the inevitable.
And then it happened.
Licking… industrious licking.
Squinting against the darkness, Dean managed to wrestle himself free, only to see the silhouette of a tail wagging merrily in the security lights of the yard.
"What the hell?" he muttered, sitting up and hiding his face behind his hands as the dog practically bounced up and down in excitement and ducked it's head to initiate another slobbery greeting.
"Get out of the way, boy," Bobby shouted, having managed to wheel himself out onto the back porch, shotgun now trained on the beast.
"Bobby, no!" Dean yelled, waving his arms to halt the hunter's misguided actions.
Bobby lowered his gun and leaned forward in his chair as he strained to make out the creature now running in circles around the younger man.
"What in blue blazes is that thing?"
Dean rubbed his temple and slipped his gun into his pocket, "I don't know, kind of looks like Scooby Doo to me."
The dog yelped and barked happily, pouncing down on it's lower paws so that its hind quarters stood up, and it's tail swayed back and forth.
Bobby sighed, sagging back in his chair with evident relief. He felt somewhat foolish, but the sight of Dean pinned to the floor by an enormous puppy was a fairly good trade-off for his embarrassment.
"It's a great dane," Bobby stated, his tone somewhat scornful as Dean slipped his belt from out of the loops on his jeans and used it to fashion a makeshift leash for the puppy, who sat obediently whilst Dean affixed it around his thick neck.
Dean walked towards the porch, the end of the belt in one hand, and the dog trailing happily by his side, it's tail wagging ten to the dozen. It peered up at him through large, brown doe eyes, seeming to be looking to him for some kind of direction.
"Well, what do you want me to do with it?" Dean inquired, reaching down to scratch one of the dog's gigantic, floppy ears. He let out a low whine of approval, and his tail thumped the dirt again, sending up a cloud of dust particles.
"Beats me," Bobby answered with a shrug, a smile twitching beneath his beard as he suggested, "why don't you take it home?"
Dean's eyes widened in horror at the prospect, and he shook his head in warning at Bobby.
"Oh no, no way," he objected, attempting to thrust the leash into Bobby's hand to no avail, "it's on your property, you keep it."
"I'm a damn cripple, boy," Bobby barked, shaking his head as he slapped at one wheel of his chair with his left hand, "what do you expect me to do with an animal that size? Saddle it up and have it tow me?"
At the quirk of Dean's eyebrow, Bobby let out a growl, which the dog listened to with interest, his head cocked to one side.
"Besides, Rumsfeld the Second wouldn't care for the company," Bobby stated firmly, patting the beast's overly large cranium.
"Look at it as practice," Bobby directed, smiling as he scratched under the dog's chin and it tilted its head back with a look of unrelenting bliss.
"For what? Rodeo?" Dean balked, looking down at the sheer size of the puppy, which already far exceeded your average golden retriever.
Bobby shook his head and muttered irritably, "You and I both know Jo's been pretty upset lately over what happened last month with that poor kid. Maybe this'd cheer her up. Besides, like I said, look at it as practice for when you have your own young'uns."
Dean appeared suitably appalled at the idea, and his subsequent babbled reply more than aptly displayed this. "But...I...B...No."
Bobby chuckled as the creature in question suddenly dropped down heavily in the dirt, tail still wagging as it rolled onto its back, all four legs akimbo.
Both men suddenly paused in their argument, their gazes both collectively drawn to the underside of the puppy who was patiently awaiting a belly rub.
"Congratulations, looks like you got yourself a boy," Bobby smirked, clearing his throat as he realised he was still staring at a particular area of the dog's rather large anatomy.
Dean too cleared his throat, and a brief smile passed his lips, "Starting to feel a little inadequate around here."
"You speak for yourself," Bobby guffawed.
"Gross, Bobby, gross," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes as he watched Bobby wheel himself back inside the house, one arm raised in way of a somewhat dismissive wave.
Dean regarded the dog, who was busily rolling on his back in the dust, his paws beating at the air. There was no question in Dean's mind that the animal would be enormous once it was fully grown, and he seemed unable to tear his gaze away from the puppy's already monstrous paws, which were practically the size of one of Jo's hands.
Sighing, Dean walked back towards the Impala, his head hanging low. He had almost reached the driver's side door before he realised that the puppy was still laying on the ground, looking at him in a thoroughly dejected manner.
"Just get in," Dean said gruffly as he threw open the back door of the Impala. As if he understood, the puppy leapt to his feet and bounded after the hunter, throwing himself into the back of the car with gusto. However, rather than settle down on the floor as Dean had intended, the dog scrambled over the seats until his rump was planted firmly in the front passenger side seat. A trail of drool ebbed from his jowls, and the dog barked once at Dean in excitement, almost as though he were stating, "come on, let's go, dude!"
Wincing as the puppy's huge paws grappled for purchase against the leather seats, Dean shot the dog a warning glare and gunned the engine.
Sighing resolutely, he shot a sideways glance at the dog and was amused to find him sitting upright, eyes half closed, as if the open road and AC/DC tunes blaring from the radio appealed as much to him as his new master.
"Just... try not to get hair all over the seats, okay?"
The dog barked in reply, and Dean rolled his eyes, wondering just how receptive Jo was going to be to their new addition.
x-x-x
Pacing the bar floor, Jo pulled the throw blanket tighter around her shoulders as she kept her weary vigil.
Dean had been gone over an hour, and both his and Bobby's cell phones were going straight to voicemail.
"Dean Winchester, if you get yourself killed, I'll murder you," she fumed to the empty room, cursing the fact she had ever let him go alone when there was a whole plethora of supernatural nasties just waiting to chow down on a hunter.
Swallowing down the wave of nervous nausea that threatened to overcome her, Jo sat on the bench of one of the booths and rested her head in her hands as a succession of yawns escaped her lips. However her head snapped up instantly as the sound of a car pulling into the dusty yard outside caught her attention.
Jo would know the purr of the Impala's powerful engine from a mile off, and she leaped to her feet to greet Dean just as the sound of the car door slamming drifted to her ears. She frowned in concern, knowing that Dean would usually rather shoot himself with a crossbow than hurt his precious baby in such a way. Her mouth suddenly felt dry in horrible anticipation of what state Dean was about to limp into the bar in.
Therefore, when he pushed the door open seconds later, looking tired but very much in one piece, Jo let out a gasp of surprise. She flung herself into Dean's arms in the next instant and buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his father's old jacket to calm her raging nerves.
"Hey, hey," Dean muttered, rubbing Jo's back soothingly, and glancing down at her in surprise. "I'm sorry I didn't call. Took longer at Bobby's than I expected."
"It's fine," Jo promised, extracting herself gently from her boyfriend's arms and peering up at him with a small, sheepish smile. "I was just a little worried, is all."
"Sorry," Dean repeated, tucking a lock of Jo's hair behind her ear. He sucked in a deep breath in the moment of silence that followed, his expression betraying that he was working up his nerve for something or other. Jo's features shifted into an expression of suspicion, and she regarded Dean as she waited for him to speak.
"I uh… I brought you something," he stated, a grin suddenly spreading across his lips, although it looked undeniably pained.
Jo looked at him dubiously, planting her hand on her hip as she cocked her head and arched a fine blonde eyebrow. "Why does that make me nervous?"
Dean shrugged, smiling good-naturedly, although the smile failed to fully reach his eyes which just increased Jo's suspicions even further.
"Yeah, well... Just remember, this was Bobby's idea," Dean held up his hands defensively, and Jo frowned as he gestured to the bar door and slowly pulled it open. A mere second later, the sound of claws frantically skittering across the wooden floor greeted her, before she found herself practically bowled over by the enormous, floppy eared puppy.
Dean winced, half closing his eyes as the dog bounded at Jo and reared up to excitedly lick at her face.
"Bobby's idea!" he held up his hands again, widening his eyes to emphasize his point and hopefully steer her anger in the direction of the rightful recipient.
Dean blinked in surprise as, instead of the snarl or glare he had been anticipating, Jo looked up at him with the widest smile he had ever seen. She giggled as the puppy tried to clumsily lick her cheek, his huge paws settling on her chest as his tail wagged and he slobbered all over her with unchecked delight.
Laughing at the hound-dog noises the beast was emitting, Jo rubbed the puppy's ears and stroked his brown fur.
"He's adorable!" she squealed, rubbing his jowled cheeks as she now addressed the dog himself, "Yes you are! Yes you are!"
"Like I said… totally my idea," Dean said, his smile quickly forming as he watched Jo fawn over the dog, who appeared thrilled by the attention he was suddenly receiving. He rolled onto the floor, still grunting and yowling in happiness, and waited expectantly for Jo to scratch his belly.
She settled at his side and immediately obliged, only tearing her gaze away from him long enough to demand of Dean, "Does he have a name?"
The hunter shrugged, sliding his jacket off his shoulders as he replied, "I've been calling him Scooby. He seems to kind of like that."
"Is that your name?" Jo inquired in the same baby voice, her nose now against the dog's cold, wet one, "is your name Scooby, huh handsome?"
The puppy barked as if in reply, and before either hunter could react, he galloped across the floor and dashed up the stairs.
"Make yourself at home," Dean grumbled, securing the locks on the bar doors before he followed Jo in pursuit of their new fur child.
The couple edged as quietly as possible down the hall, mindful that both Sam and Sophia slept only feet away in their rooms.
Curling her fingers around their bedroom door, Jo slapped her hand over her mouth in a giggle as they found 'Scooby' had already decided to call it a night, and was reclined on his back across their bed. The dog cast a brief glance toward the couple, and gave his tail a wag before he began rolling and twisting from side to side in the sheets.
"Hey, I don't think so, buddy," Dean clicked his fingers at the dog, gesturing for him to get down from the bed.
The dog rolled over, now sitting upright as he regarded the hunter, his head cocked and ears peaked as he looked on in confusion.
"You get the floor," Dean stated, his eyes narrowing as the dog merely stared at him. Jo snorted, clamping her hand tighter over her mouth to muffle her laughter. Dean shot her an arch look before turning back to Scooby, who had made no move to return to his apparently rightful place on the floor.
Sighing, Dean crossed the room and patted the dog insistently on the rump, until the puppy scrambled off the bed. Dean looked on in satisfaction and, when he crawled into bed finally for the second time that night, it was with Jo only at his side.
When he woke, however, it was with a hefty puppy with a serious case of dog breath half sprawled across his chest.
x-x-x
Seattle Pacific University, Seattle
January 6th 2012
With just a few short, succinct clicks of his netbook mouse, Riley Tambard had finally brought an end to the infinite fights, heated debates, and duck-faced 'selfies' that had been flooding his screen for the last seven months. He could barely recall why he had even bothered to become a member of the campus' new social networking site, but he assumed that it had had something to do with sex and women, and more to the point, meeting women for sex. Although he had managed to arrange a handful of hook-ups through his computer from the comfort of his own dorm room, the convenience of this had far been outweighed by the intense annoyance Riley had felt every time his email inbox pinged with another pointless message.
Filled with an odd sense of weightless freedom, Riley leaned back against his headboard and smiled down at his computer screen. No longer would pictures of scantily clad fat chicks pouting into bathroom mirrors be inflicted on his eyes, and for that, he would be evermore grateful.
Riley downed the last of his can of cola before crushing the tin against his forehead and belching loudly. He doubted he would miss the supposed interaction of his peers, since his football scholarship and regular gym time kept him pretty busy.
Belching once more for good measure, and chuckling in juvenile amusement, Riley flexed his fingers and opened a new search engine window.
Using his old, tried and tested porn site favourites, he waggled his eyebrows in delight as a bevvy of busty, pouty, impossibly proportioned women filled the screen.
A notification suddenly popped up from the bottom of the screen, and he rolled his eyes impatiently at the message from the social network, and simply closed the alert box.
The screen now uncluttered, save for the sight of orange, heavily made-up, naked women, Riley sighed in satisfaction.
"Now this is what the internet was really made for," he remarked to an empty room.
He perused the list of available videos like a seasoned pro, uttering a 'very nice, very nice' when a particular playmate caught his eye.
The young man failed to notice the sound of a door opening out in the hall, or the slow, steady footfalls that advanced toward his room.
The door handle turned in the very moment the room was plunged into darkness.
x-x-x
The dog sat patiently at the side of the bed. Scooby Harvelle-Winchester, as huge in stature as he was long in name, stared at his masters with an expression of confusion and mild concern.
His furry eyebrows rose expressively as he cocked his head, debating the situation before him with a grumbled whine.
A hand swatted gently in his direction, and the dog shuffled back for only a moment, as he eyed the writhing mass beneath the covers.
A strangled howl left his jowled lips, and he snorted irritably as his mistress seemed intent on ignoring him.
"Scooby... quit it!" Jo panted, breaking the kiss with her equally breathless boyfriend only long enough to chastise their canine voyeur.
Scooby simply let out a whine, long and low and full of melancholy, as Jo's head disappeared back under the covers. He padded to the end of the bed, his nose sniffing several centremetres in front of the sole of Jo's foot, before he ran his tongue lightly over her skin.
The hunter let out a yelp of laughter, and Dean huffed as she pulled away from him again, her attention back on the puppy.
"Lay down, Scooby," she instructed, mildly surprised when the dog sank back on his haunches, and then slumped to the floor, seemingly at her command. "Good boy."
However, when Jo returned to previous pursuits, Scooby released a deep, gruff bark, which succeeded in finally drawing Dean from beneath the covers.
"Hey, mutt…" he began, his eyes suddenly widening as the puppy bounded across the room and then flung himself onto the bed. Dean's breath escaped his body in a whoosh, and he fell back against the pillows with the weight of the mildly growling puppy on top of his chest.
Tail thumping wildly, Scooby lapped at the man's face, mistaking his mutters of annoyance for enthusiasm.
"Hey!" Dean shouted, trying to shove the dog off, but finding his arm pinned beneath Jo, who was laughing heartily beside him.
Ducking his head unsuccessfully to try to avoid the dog's tongue, Dean grabbed blindly at the nightstand and frowned as he produced a pair of bunched up socks.
Holding them up to grab the beast's attention, Dean then hurled them across the room, once again wincing in pain as the dog's huge paws trampled over his body and he leapt from the bed to attack his new toy.
Dean curled onto his side, his eyes almost watering at the pain now rising up from his crotch.
"Man down!" he exclaimed through clenched teeth.
Jo winced in sympathy, casting her gaze over to the puppy, who was leaning down on his haunches, pouncing and batting at the socks as he grumbled to himself, tail still wagging.
Satisfied that the animal was now engrossed in a project of his own, Jo rolled over to regard her boyfriend.
Pressing a slow line of kisses down his jaw in a teasing gesture, Jo trailed a finger down the centre of Dean's chest and affixed him with a toe curling stare.
She initiated a searing kiss and gestured beneath the covers, disappearing under the sheets before he could so much as blink. And once again, Dean Winchester was gripped tight and raised from perdition.
x-x-x
"This blows!" Dean groused, barely bothering to keep his tone low as he rounded the corridor and appeared on the threshold of the doorway of the dorm room, which was now swathed in yellow crime scene tape, and milling with students.
"Especially if your name's…" Jo paused, breaking off to glance down at the slip of paper in her hand, "Riley Tambard."
Dean made a snorting sound that may have conveyed his agreement before he approached the closed heavy oak door and rapped on it sharply. The hunters exchanged looks, both having managed very little in the way of sleep thanks to the lumpy motel bed that they had spent the previous evening cuddled up in, three quarters of the way between Nebraska and Seattle. It was at times such as these that Jo wished Dean would overcome his fear of flying as, snacking on dry roasted peanuts and potentially joining the mile high club was significantly more favourable in her mind than gas station burritos and toilet seats that she was afraid to sit on to pee.
The hunters both listened attentively for sounds of movement inside the room, Jo peering up at Dean as they heard footsteps clearly padding towards the door.
"So, no cover story?" she checked quickly in a whisper, relieved when Dean bobbed his head.
"No cover story," he repeated, "Faye's an old friend of Dad's. She seems to think her latest case has 'Winchester' written all over it."
Jo frowned, gnawing on her bottom lip thoughtfully before she queried, "She happen to say why that is?"
Finally, having grown bored with waiting for someone to appear on the other side of the door, Dean tried the handle, and pushed the door open. The two hunters crossed the threshold of the room, their gazes sweeping the area quickly for any signs of lingering trouble.
Dean grinned, extending his boot to gingerly move an upturned computer magazine to uncover the item he could just about make out was hidden beneath it.
"Nope. But I'm guessing it's got a lot to do with whatever cleaved this kid's head right off his shoulders," he said, watching Jo wince, "what? That doesn't fill you with the warm and fuzzies?"
Jo wrinkled her nose, and they both breathed an audible sigh of relief as the hidden article turned out to be no more than a pair of gym socks.
"Not exactly," she guffawed, glancing toward the doorway as Sam came strolling in, an absurdly wide smile in place.
"I might check out the library before we leave... this place is amazing. There's like... 28 million books through this program that..." he paused, "and you guys don't really care. Right."
Jo smiled and rolled her eyes, stooping down and picking up another discarded magazine. A fair haired, bare-breasted woman greeted her from the cover, with the title 'Buxom Blondes' plastered across her rather ample assets.
Dean sniggered, "More my kind of reading material."
Jo flicked through it disinterestedly, a scowl quickly settling on her features, "Pfft. Like those are real?!"
"Like men would still be obsessed with looking at 'em if they were," a somewhat husky female voice stated with obvious amusement. Jo's head whipped around, and her gaze came to rest on the older woman who stood leaning against the doorjamb of the ensuite, one hand on her hip and her head cocked to one side. Her shoulder length hair was primarily grey, and her tanned skin was heavily lined in a manner that hinted she had been at least a decade John Winchester's senior.
"Faye Gordon," the woman said, stepping forwards and offering her hand to Jo, who clasped it and shook it heartily.
"Jo Harvelle," she countered, her response almost immediate on impulse. Jo's brown eyes roved the woman's face, as she quickly evaluated what little she had seen so far, and attempted to formulate an opinion accordingly. She was met by nothing more than an honest smile, and a pair of light blue eyes that twinkled with the promise of keen wit and intelligence. Deciding that she already liked Detective Gordon, Jo beamed at the woman, who nodded before moving towards Dean and gathering him into a hug.
"Come 'ere Dean," Faye demanded, almost knocking Dean off his feet as she seized him in a bear hug. Jo was almost certain she heard bones crack in protest, and Dean let out a pained grunt that appeared to tally with the idea.
"Easy there, Faye," Dean gasped, patting the woman on the back even as she laughed openly at Dean's expression of discomfort.
"Getting soft in your old age, Winchester?" she pressed, although she had already moved onto Sam, who at least appeared to be faring better under the physical assault.
Looking Jo up and down, Faye then turned back to her and cast a briefly analytical gaze at each of the brothers, "So, lemme guess, you're either their parole officer, or you're the much better half of one of these schmucks?"
Jo laughed, glancing behind her as Dean looped an arm around her collarbone and then gestured down to the petite blonde.
"Luckiest woman on earth, right here," he smirked, earning a snort of amusement and a patronising pat on the cheek from said 'luckiest woman'.
Faye nodded, holding the young hunters in a genuinely affectionate gaze until the pressing nature of the case pulled her from her thoughts. "Alright, so let's get down to business, huh?!"
"Yes ma'am," Sam nodded obediently, taking out a notepad and pen as he awaited the more intimate details of the case that the local newspaper hacks had yet to crack.
"A nineteen year old male student found by his roommate with his head taken clean off his shoulders," Detective Gordon began, perching herself on the edge of the bed as she spoke, seeming unconcerned by the fact it was likely a piece of evidence in itself.
"What's so strange about that?" Dean inquired, amending himself quickly as he added, "aside from the obvious… but it could be just a regular old human psychopath."
"True, and since the murder suspect is already in custody, I'd be inclined to agree," Faye replied, "except for one thing."
"What's that?" inquired Jo, beginning to pace carefully around the room, her eyes roving the various personal effects dotted about it, which ranged from signed footballs to unused condoms still in their packets.
"Riley Tambard was killed by some random kid who lived down the hall and had never said two words to him," Faye answered, "perfectly balanced young man, a high achiever, undoubtedly destined for greatness, and with not a single motive to commit murder."
"How did he do it?" Sam asked, looking up from his notepad, "must have been something pretty heavy duty to take this kid's head off."
"Bread knife," Faye answered, swallowing hard as she met Dean's gaze, "not your usual weapon of choice for a cold blooded killer."
Dean gulped, nodding as he added, "Must have taken some… dedication."
"You have no idea," Faye answered darkly, her gaze drifting to the deep crimson pools that stained the carpet.
Dean cleared his throat, miming a sawing motion as he pondered the sheer will and strength required to commit the crime in question.
"Lot of shoulder action right there," Dean noted, drawing appalled expressions from Jo and Sam.
Quickly shrugging off his macabre reverie, Dean suddenly spied something of interest and, like a child in a fully stocked candy store, his eyes lit up as he pilfered the small plastic packet from the dead student's night stand.
"Whoah! Dude!" he enthused, his face now taking on a more suggestive quality as he held the packet up to the light and grinned in glee.
Jo narrowed her eyes, sighing dramatically as she snatched the 'glow in the dark' condom from her errant boyfriend, before tossing it back onto the nightstand.
"Don't even think about it, Skywalker," she stated, widening her eyes pointedly.
Sam shook his head slowly, sighing as he turned to regard the detective and tried to steer the conversation in a far more useful direction.
"Can we talk to the guy?" Sam asked, flipping his notebook closed and jamming it into the breast pocket of his jacket.
"Sure," Faye bobbed her head, "so, what's it to be this time, huh? State Police, FBI?"
"We haven't done chaplaincy for a while," Dean stated, his soft smile somewhat nostalgic as he recalled just how easily the confessions rolled off peoples' tongues when they believed they were speaking to a man of the cloth.
Jo shot Dean a thoroughly astounded look, which he deflected with a smile.
"The robes feel nice," he said, answering the question she had been far too afraid to voice.
"They're one step away from a dress," Sam stated, staring at his brother askance. Dean's expression fell, and he glared at Sam in irritation before turning on his heel to address Faye, who was watching the hunters figuratively duke it out with her arms folded patiently.
"Ok, you set up our little tete-a-tete with the happy hacker and we'll poke around here some more and see what we can turn up," Dean stated, almost rubbing his hands together in anticipation of some long awaited field work.
Faye followed behind the hunters as they walked across the parking lot toward the Impala. She watched as the trio deftly avoided the journalists and bystanders who were crowding around the news vans that now littered the college grounds.
"Folks just lap this stuff up," Faye sighed derisively, jamming her hands in her pockets as the group came to a stop in front of the car.
Sam bobbed his head, frowning as he noted a gang of students taking 'selfies' in front of the police crime scene cordons with matching ghoulish smiles and pouts in place.
"Yeah, well there's some sick puppies out there..." Dean began, sighing and practically darting out of the way as a lumbering creature bounded out of the back seat and dove for Jo.
"There's my little guy!" Jo exclaimed, smiling in delight as she accepted the puppy's furious licks to her cheek, as his tail thumped against the asphalt.
"Speaking of," Dean huffed, shaking his head disapprovingly as the dog then turned his sites on him.
Faye watched with obvious amusement as the older Winchester attempted to gently swat the animal back.
"All you guys need to do is paint 'Mystery Machine' down the side of the car and you're all set."
Sam stifled a snort of laughter as Dean cleared his throat and pointed in Faye's general direction.
"We'll see you later."