"Alright, so there's no one matching Dad's description at the hospital or the morgue, so that's something, I guess."

Flipping his phone shut, Sam tucked it back into his jacket pocket and sat back in his seat, elbow propped on the door and head in his hand. If Dean didn't know better, he'd swear he could hear a thread of disappointment under the relief in his little brother's voice. Actually, he could almost understand that. At least if John had been one of those places, they'd have known and it wouldn't feel like they were constantly just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Still, at least he wasn't dead. Yet. Probably.

"Wonder what's goin' on here." Rounding a curve in the highway that bordered the drop into the river, Dean's attention was caught by the couple dozen law enforcement officers swarming around the old metal bridge that spanned the water. Kind of hard not to notice that. Looked like opportunity was knocking and who was he not to answer? Pulling off onto the gravel shoulder, he threw the car in park before glancing in the rearview mirror. Wait. Shit. "Skyler, lay down and stay out of sight while Sam and I go check this out."

"Whatever happened to 'please'?" One advantage to being as small as she was, she certainly looked comfortable stretched out in his backseat. Arms crossed over her chest and legs stretched out in front of her, she met Dean's gaze and smiled sweetly, head cocked to the side and that thick, dark braid of hers spilling over her shoulder. She is too damn cute for my own good. What was that? Can't hear you, and also, shut the fuck up. God, even her voice was pleasant, in spite of the almost constant mocking, like thick, warm honey, "You know what, Winchester, I'll do it on one condition-" Great, now she was making ultimatums. "-you stop callin' me 'Skyler'-" Alright, that wasn't too unreasonable. "-and you have to say 'please'."

Bitch.

Turning in his seat, Dean laid an arm across the back, lips pursed as he looked at her for a long moment. Even if he made a deal with her, could he actually trust her to sit still and behave for however long it took for him and Sam to go try and get some information? ...and no way was he saying please. "Fine. Deal. Now duck."

"You didn't say please."

"That's two conditions, not one."

"You didn't. Say. Please."

Dean recognized the stubborn tilt she got to her chin as she raised a brow, a smug little smirk dancing around the edges of her too-damn-perfect lips. He should, he'd seen it often enough in the mirror. Oh for fucks sake, was she really going to make him beg? ...yeah, of course she was. He really didn't put it past her to get her ass out of the car and march up to the first cop she saw if he didn't. Fan-fucking-tastic. "...please."

No sooner had the word left his mouth than she slid down, stretching out and rolling onto her side. He watched that smug smile turn into an insolent grin as she pillowed her head on her arm, staying below the level of the windows just as she'd said she would. It took entirely too much effort to convince himself that the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach were from copious amounts of caffeine and not the girl two feet away.

"Was that really so hard?"

Yes.

"Now, can I ask what you're doin' or is it this one a those 'I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you' kinda deals?"

"Can the deal include not talking or is it too late to amend that?" From the looks of it, no, that wasn't an option. Damn. Reaching past an entirely-too-quiet Sammy, Dean popped open the glove box and retrieved an old wooden cigar box. Inside were a couple dozen fake IDs for both him and Sam. All of them rather convincing, if he did say so himself.

Was Sammy laughing again? He was, wasn't he. Dude was going to suffocate and die and it'd serve him right. Picking out the two he thought would best suit the situation, Dean extended a hand over the backseat, showing the bit of plastic to Skyler, "We're gonna go ask some questions, see what we can find out."

"You're gonna fake bein' a federal marshal? You really are quite the little felon. Do they really fall for that?"

"I'm a lot of things, but little isn't one of them." And now she was blushing, a flush of color creeping up her cheeks to stain the tips of her ears pink. Well, shame on her for having a dirty mind because Dean had totally meant height and nothing else. And there went his stomach again, too. And did the girl not listen when he spoke? "I have straight up told you I was a felon but you don't listen too good." Or at all. Ever.

"Try sayin' somethin' worth listenin' to."

"You first." Prying open the driver's side door with Sam doing the same on his side, Dean slid out before sparing a brief glance into the backseat, "Stay put, Tinkerbell, we'll be right back."

"Tinkerbell? Oh, Hell n-" The sound of the car door slamming shut and cutting her off was the most satisfying thing Dean had heard all day.


Gravel grinding beneath his brown boots, Sam stuck his hands in his pocket, walking around the front of the car to join his brother. He couldn't quite keep the grin off his face, just like he couldn't quite resist poking at Dean just a little bit, "You have some interesting song choices lately."

"Knock it off, Sammy. You're just wrong."

"You lying to me or yourself?...both is also an option."

The mingled voices of several uniformed law enforcement officers floated along the breeze, the water from the river rushing along below adding its own music to the unintelligible conversations. A car sat skewed across the roadway halfway across the bridge, a couple of officers crawling over it like ants, looking for some sign of...something.

"...too clean…"

"...yeah...how's...your daughter dealing…"

Bits and pieces of conversation managed to make their way to the Winchester's ears, just enough for them to know that the crime scene had been cleaned up and apparently one of the officer's daughters was dating the victim, yet another missing man. Seemed they'd come just in time. Or maybe a couple days too late…

Stopping behind the car, Dean spoke up, pitching his voice to be heard over the din as he addressed the guy that looked to be in charge, "You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?"

"And who are you?" Taking a step toward the boys, a hand hovering near the grip of the firearm at his hip, he peered out at them from under the wide brim of his very fine hat.

With a smile, Dean flipped out his ID, flashing the phony identification with a confidence Sam did not in the least feel, "Federal Marshals."

The uniformed officer, a 'Franks' from the name on the badge, gave the two a long-once over. Eyes narrowed, he pursed his lips, not looking like he was buying what they were selling. Not that Sam could blame him for being skeptical. Sam would be, too. "You two are a little young for Marshals, aren't you?"

"Thanks, that's awfully kind of you." With a chuckle, Dean accepted the 'compliment', taking a step back and slowly turning to survey the scene around them. Sam knew Dean didn't really like this part of the job. Just because he played a LEO on TV didn't mean he was at all comfortable around them. Just the opposite. One wrong move and they could both end up in prison for a very long time. Judges tend not to like people impersonating high-level law enforcement officers and let's not even get into the shitstorm the mobile arsenal in the trunk would cause. Words laced with impatience, he had no trouble making himself heard over the dozen or so others within earshot, "But you did have another one just like this, correct?"

Resigned, Officer Franks sighed and reluctantly answered. No real reason not to, other than the satisfaction of saying no to Dean, "...yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road, and there've been others before that."

Stepping closer, Sam slipped on a sympathetic smile and shook his shaggy hair out of his eyes, perfectly aware of the harmless puppy-dog look he was currently conveying. He should be, he'd spent years practicing. Being the size of the Jolly Green Giant, he had to use every trick he could to come off as non-threatening as possible, "So this victim, you knew him?"

"A town like this, everybody knows everybody."

Boots crunching on the cracked asphalt, Dean walked slowly around the car, giving no indication that he spotted anything untoward as he continued their little interrogation, "Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?"

"Not so far as we can tell, no."

Damn. More information would have been helpful, but if this really was something of the supernatural variety, it wasn't at all surprising that the cops were stumped. They weren't really known for being an open-minded breed. Still, it never hurt to prod a little further. Clearing his throat, Sam tucked his hands in his pockets, squinting against the sun as he turned back to Officer Franks, "So, you got a theory?"

"Serial murderer? Kidnapping ring?" Shoving back the brim of his hat, Franks dark eyes looked tired, like he was just about ready to throw in the towel here but knew he couldn't. Sam knew the feeling. "Hell, we just don't know."

Making his way back over to Sam, Dean stopped beside his brother, hands in his pockets and a smirk Sam didn't particularly like plastered on his face. Sure enough, the next words to leave Dean's mouth proved the filter on his brain hadn't improved any over the last four years, "Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys."

Taking half a step sideways, Sam trod hard on the toe of Dean's boot with his heel and smiled at Franks, interrupting anything more Dean might have had to say. They really did not need to antagonize the local authorities, something Dean had a real talent for.

Grabbing his brothers arm, Sam gave Franks a nod and started to steer Dean back toward the car, "Well, thanks for your time, gentleman."

Rubbing the tip of his nose, Dean sniffed, muttering under his breath. As soon as they were out of earshot, he reached up and smacked Sam in the back of the head hard enough to make his ears ring for a second. Wincing, he swatted at Dean, "Ow! Dick. What was that for?"

"Why you gotta step on my foot?"

"Why do have to talk to the police like that?"

"Come on, man." Taking a step, Dean turned to face Sam, arms crossed and an annoyed expression on his face, "They don't really know what's goin' on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're gonna find Dad, we've gotta get to the bottom of this thing ourselves."

Before Dean could continue what was sure to be a rousing speech, Sam cleared his throat, his eyes shifting from Dean to the people approaching behind him. One uniform, two suits. From the looks of it, this was the county Sheriff and two actual real live Federal Marshals. It was definitely time to go.

"Can I help you boys?"

Turning to address the Sheriff, an older man who was just the epitome of 'good old boy', Dean flashed that thousand-watt smile of his. Too bad it was less than effective on straight men. Well, presumably-straight men. "No sir, we were just leaving." Hands in his pockets, Dean sidestepped the Marshals, inclining his head toward each of them as they passed, "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully."

Using his long legs to advantage, Sam easily kept up with Dean as they crossed the highway back to the car and the girl waiting inside of it. As they got closer, Sam cleared his throat and smiled as Dean glanced back at him, "You're wrong."

"About?

"We're not alone in this."

"Yeah?" Hands in the pockets of his navy blue jacket, Dean stopped a few feet from the car and turned to Sam, "How you figure?"

With a gleeful smile, Sam nodded his head toward the backseat, only too happy to get some revenge for Dean's behavior by reminding him of the very thing he was trying so hard to avoid, "We have Skye."

"Thanks for the reminder. I just love babysitting."

Heading for the passenger side, Sam crossed in front of the car, unable to keep back a short bark of laughter at his brother's aggrieved expression, "If she needs a babysitter, you're going to end up on a list somewhere."

"Jesus Christ, Sammy." With a look that said he was contemplating smashing his own head into the car, or possibly taking up day drinking as a hobby, Dean pried open the driver's side door with a squeal of protesting hinges, "That is just so wrong."


"What the hell took you guys so long? Can I sit up now?"

Key in the ignition, Dean cranked over the engine, trying his hardest to focus on the purr of the V8 and studiously ignoring the voice piping up from the backseat. Easier said than done, but he could at least fake it convincingly. Of course, all this would be easier if Sam would quit sticking his nose in where it wasn't wanted. Why exactly had he thought picking his brother up from Stanford was a good idea?

"Yeah, you can sit up now." Turning to sit with his arm draped over the backseat, Sam smiled at Skye, shaking his head in wordless apology, "You get why we needed you to stay out of sight, right? We weren't just being jerks."

"Yeah, I get it. I mean, I'm sure the chance to be a jerk was a nice bonus for one of you, but I get it. It'd be weird for two alleged Marshals to have some random kid in their backseat and that could draw unwanted attention."

Pushing herself up, Skye smiled at Sam, obviously not blaming him at all. Nope, it was all Dean's fault. Great. How was that fair again? He'd even said please, for fucks sake, but was she smiling at him like that? Of course not. ...was that jealousy? No, of course not. That was stupid. What was there to be jealous of? Nothing. Fuck he needed some sleep. ...yeah, that was the problem. Sure. He just needed a nap, or even just a shower. A nice, long, hot shower. Maybe some food that didn't come from under a heat lamp.

Whatever his problem was, it certainly wasn't helping his temper any, which was probably why his mouth just popped open all on its own and tried to pick a fight, "You're not as stupid as you look." Probably.

"If only I could say the same to you." Stretching and leaning back against the seat, Skye met Dean's eyes in the rearview, an irritatingly cheerful smile on her lips as she refused to take the bait. Because that wasn't aggravating, "You guys find out anything useful?"

"Little yes, little no. Mostly no."

"The cops are useless, I mean they usually are, but we did overhear that one of their daughters was dating the victim." And why was he bothering to tell her this, exactly? She didn't need to know. If he had his way, she'd be locked in the trunk the entire time. "She's been putting up missing person flyers in town. We're gonna head in and try to find her, see if she's got any info we can use."

"I'm comin' with you."

The absolute last thing they needed was for her to tag along, getting in the way and fucking shit up. At best she was a liability and at worst she was dead. ...possibly because he'd end up killing her... "The hell you are, you're gonna sit your ass in the car."

"What do you think, Sam?" Sliding closer, she crossed her arms on the back of the seat and looked at Sam with the sweetest smile she could have possibly plastered on her face. A smile that was fooling absolutely no one at this point, "Am I gonna stay in the car this time?"

"This is just a shot in the dark here but I'm going to go with no. Though I only just met you, so you could still surprise me."

Not helping, Sammy, thank you so much. Why was he encouraging her? So much for family loyalty. ...and why the fuck did Sammy keep giggling?

"That's fair. Let's see…" Rubbing the tip of her nose for a second, she crossed her arms back over the top of the seat and smiled again. Not a particularly pleasant smile this time, but a smile nonetheless, "I turn nineteen next month and I was born and raised in Oklahoma. ...and I'm not stayin' in the car." And there was that stubborn head-tilt again. "There, now you know a little more about me."