Chapter 1
Basket Case
(Season 1, episode 5 - Bloody Mary)
The local newspaper with the obituary of Steven Shoemaker was shoved into Sarah's black leather bag, which also held her silver knife, a bottle of holy water, a tupperware container filled with salt, and her father's old pistol, as she made her way into the coroner's office. The newspaper had stated that this man had suddenly died bloody in his home. His daughter found him lying on the bathroom floor. Something seemed wrong about the whole thing.
Sarah walked in the office wearing her black low, closed toe heels along with her light blue button down blouse and black dress pants. She held her bag over her shoulder and over her black blazer. Her light brown hair was placed firmly into a bun and her nails were painted naturally, matching her make up. These were only clothes she wore to appear like an FBI agent and to get her involved in the investigations.
She flashed her fake FBI badge only long enough for them to see the name of her aliases which, in this case, was Agent Armstrong, and the full color photograph of her inside. She didn't chance them seeing it and noticing that it wasn't real.
The doctor was not available by the time she entered the morgue, but the assistant on duty allowed her to look around. The place was nothing she hadn't seen before. Dead bodies covered by blankets, medical instruments laying out on tables, and dark areas that were hardly lit. These places always freaked her out, but she got herself by it every single time. It was, in fact, part of the job.
"Excuse me, Miss, uh, I mean Agent," the assistant that was watching the morgue for the coroner called. "There are a couple med students here that wanted to see the Shoemaker body as well. If you want you can join them."
Students? Why would they be interested in that specific body? Chances were, they weren't students at all. They were probably other hunters who got a whiff of the case and came running in first chance they got. This wasn't the first time she had to deal with other hunters, but she definitely hated doing it. Working with other people is what got you killed. These ones didn't sound too bright either.
"This is a federal investigation, now. I don't have time to deal with these students. Tell them to come back later, after I've seen the body for myself." She was in no mood to work around other people. She thought They used a stupid student aliases. They must be new. Because of this, she decided to use the fake power that her fake badge gave her.
"I'm sorry, but they're students of the doctor, so you would have to deal with them anyway."
I can't believe this. She walked past the assistant with her badge in hand. "Fine. Let's just get this over with, then, shall we?"
Sarah managed to make her way into the part of the morgue that held Steven Shoemaker's corpse. That is where she was presented with two young men, about her age. One was tall with longer hair than other that flared our slightly. He wore a brown hoodie and jeans with black and white sneakers. The other was about her height, maybe slightly taller and he wore a leather jacket with a blue button down underneath. Great. I'm dealing with a college student and his drop out friend, was the first thing that came to her mind.
"Gentlemen," her voice called to them. They both turned their attention onto her. "This is an FBI case. While we examine the body, I suggest you stay out of my way, or hell will rain down on you. You got it?"
The tall one nodded quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, we got it."
The rebel looking one said nothing. He just stared at Sarah, unconvinced about her and who she said she was.
She turned to the doctor as he led her and the boys to the spot where Shoemaker was being examined.
The tall one came up to her first with his hand held out. "I'm Sam, by the way."
Sarah reluctantly grabbed his hand and shook it. "Agent Armstrong." She wasn't willing to give up her first name just yet. There was no trusting these boys, not yet.
Sam released her hand and pointed. "That's my brother Dean. He's not one for introductions."
"Yes, I can see that." She didn't want to waste her time chit chatting. All Sarah wanted to do was see the body and leave. That way, she would be able to finish her job in peace.
The doctor' assistant put on gloves and handed Sarah a pair. Since this Sam and Dean were only pretending to be med students, they weren't able to touch the body.
Sam was the first to speak to the doctor, beating Sarah to the punch. "Now, the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said he eyes were bleeding."
"More than that." The doctor lifted the white sheet that covered the dead man. "They practically liquefied." The man's eye lids were gone, and his eyes remained open. Blood dripped down the sides of his face and into his hair. Whatever this was, it didn't appreciate sight very much.
"Any sign of struggle?" Dean asked. "Maybe somebody did it to him?"
"Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone."
"What was the time of death?" Sarah asked. These boys were taking all of her normal questions. She needed something, so she improvised. She had seen this question ask countless times on cop shows. Asking this wouldn't raise any suspicion she hoped.
"Between 12 and 1 am. Did you read the report that was sent in?"
This wasn't uncommon. She was always asked about a report and her answer was always the same. "I didn't receive a full report yet. Did the doctor file one?"
"Yes, I believe he did."
"Believing is the same as guessing. Did he or didn't he?" She knew she sounded harsh, but she needed to keep him scared.
"I, uh, don't know."
"Well then don't ask a federal agent if one was read if you don't even know if one was filed."
"Hey, take it easy." Dean reached out in front of him and to her. "He's just doing his job."
"And I'm just doing mine. Now I suggest you shut up or I'll have you arrested for interfering with a federal investigation. Is that what you want?" Without hearing an answer, she knew she had won. "That's what I thought."
Sam could see the discomfort in the doctor's eyes and wanted to finish this up quickly. "What was the official cause of death?"
"Docs not sure. He's thinking massive stroke or maybe an aneurysm. Something burst up in there, that's for sure."
"What do you mean?"
"Intense cerebral bleeding." The doctor smiled like it was funny or cool. "This guy had more blood in his skull than anybody I've ever seen."
"Look at the eyes." Sam's words directed everyone in the room to stare at the empty sockets before them. "What would cause something like that?"
"Capillaries can burst. I see a lot of blood shot eyes of stroke victims."
"Yeah. Have you ever seen exploding eyeballs?" Dean, Sarah could tell, was the troublemaker. Sam's questions were educated and thought out. Dean didn't seem like the school type.
"That's a first for me. But, hey, I'm not the doctor."
"You think we could take a look at the police report? You know for our paper." Dean smiled at the doctor, trying to persuade him to say 'yes.'
"I'm sorry. If anyone should be looking at that report, it will be me." Sarah stepped in front of the both of them. "I'm sorry, boys, but I think I'll take it from here if you don't mind." She looked at the doctor. "Now, the report please."
"I'm not really supposed to show anybody that," the doctor confessed.
"Well, I'm working this case and I really need to see that report, you know, since I didn't receive one. Unless you want me to contact your superiors, I suggest-" but she stopped mid-sentence as Sam pulled out his wallet. "What are you doing?"
Neither Sam nor Dean answered her as Sam pulled out a couple twenties and handed them to the assistant.
"Come this way," the assistant instructed.
Dean smiled in victory at Sarah as they followed the man to the room that held all of the official reports. He handed Sam all of the papers and it was time to go. She needed to get those papers before they figured out she wasn't really a FBI agent.
As the three of them walked down the stairs, Sam opened the report. Sarah quickly grabbed it away from him. She knew her only chance at getting the report was acting nice. She always did what she had to do to close a case. "Listen, I appreciate your interest in this case and helping getting this report, but I need to take it and look it over by myself."
Dean snatched the papers back away from Sarah. "Why don't we talk outside." He nudged his head to the exit.
Sam and Sarah both followed. If Dean didn't have the papers then Sarah would have been long gone by now. But she needed to read the report in full detail if she wanted to close this case and that meant following Dean outside to the parking lot. She pulled her bag tightly to her side, readying it in case she needed to grab anything in defense.
Once outside, Dean led her and his brother to an ally directly next to the hospital. He pulled out a small knife and turned to Sarah. Without a chance of escaping, Sarah was thrust against the wall of the hospital with Dean's arm holding her there. He knocked her purse off of her shoulder and held the knife to her face. "Who are you?" he demanded to know.
Her lying has gotten her this far. Sarah wasn't going to start telling the truth now. "I'm FBI and you boys are in some serious trouble."
Sam stood next to his brother. "FBI don't come around for small town cases like this. Try again."
"Sam, do you have that bottle of holy water with you?" Dean asked his brother.
"Yeah, I do." Sam pulled out a small silver bottle from the inside of his jacket.
"I'm not a demon!" Sarah yelled at them.
"We have to make sure. Sam."
Sam opened the bottle and threw the contents on Sarah's face. When there was no reaction, Dean spoke again. "You got the silver knife?"
Sam nodded at him and Dean forced her sleeve up.
"I'm not anything else, either," Sarah complained.
Dean refused to listen. He dug the knife into her arm and watched as the blood drew. It only stung her slightly, but she needed not to react. That was the only way they would believe her.
With, again, no reaction, Dean released his grip on her and backed away.
"See. I told you. I'm not a demon or anything else." She rubbed under her eyes and removed any eyeliner and mascara that ran down her face. "Every time this happens. Every time."
She reached down to her bag, but Dean stopped her. "What do you got in there?"
Sarah shoved his arm away. "Relax. I'm just getting a rag to stop the bleeding. You got me pretty deep." She had thought about grabbing her gun and holding them to give her the documents, but that would have drawn a scene. Instead, she did what she said she was going to. Sarah grabbed an old white rag and wrapped it around her fresh wound.
"Now tell us, who are you?" Dean still had the knife in his hand. He brought it up to her face, threatening her once again.
Seeing no other way around this, Sarah had no choice than to tell the truth. "Fine. My name's Sarah Greenely. I'm a hunter. And judging by your knowledge of holy water, fake aliases, and ability to use a silver knife, I would guess you guys are, too."
"Why did you lie?" Sam's eyes released a sad tone.
"What? You think I was going to tell a couple of really bad actors who I really was? I don't think so, Tex. How dumb do you think I am? I've been doing this job for a long time. Rule number one: you don't tell anyone who you really are unless you know you can trust them. And judging how you nearly slit my throat just now, I'm pretty sure I can't trust you. Are you happy now?"
"Not yet." Dean's grip on his knife lessened and he lowered his weapon. "Why are you here?"
"Wow, you're not the brightest of the bunch are you?" Sarah reached for the top of her head and let down her hair. It fell straight down to the middle of her back as she spoke. "I'm here for the case of the missing eyeballs, same as you." She slid the hair tie on her right wrist and looked up at them.
"And you were using a fake FBI badge as your cover?" Sam seemed fascinated with her alias.
"Yeah. It gets me the answers I need quicker. Pretending to be a med student, for example, would take too long. Time is precious. Someone else could die." She liked Sam. He didn't seem like the kill-first-ask-questions-later type like his brother. Sam was at least reasonable. "Can I have the reports now?"
Dean put his knife back in his pocket and pulled out reports. "No. We got this. Why don't you just go one home to your mom and dad and we'll take it from here."
She grabbed his arm before he could walk away. "I don't think so. I was here before you."
"So what? We're here, now. We got this."
"Guys, we don't even know if it's our kind of thing yet," Sam interjected. "Let's just look at the file first and we'll take it from there."
Dean and Sarah's eyes were fixed on each other. Neither one of them wanted the other around. They had only just met and she knew that this guy was going to be a problem.
Without receiving any answer, Sam slowly took the report from Dean's hands and glanced at it. "It might not even be one of ours. It might just be a freak medical thing."
Dean dropped a look at Sam in disbelief. "How many times in Dad's long career has it actually been a freak medical thing? And not some sign of an awful supernatural death?"
Dad? They must have been brought up in this life like I was. Maybe they weren't totally defenseless after all. Sarah understood them a little better. At least, she could relate to them.
"Almost never," Sam answered back.
"Exactly."
"All right. Let's go talk to the daughter."
Dean started to walk away without acknowledging one tiny detail.
"Hey!" Sarah shouted. "I can handle this without you. Leave."
That's it! Dean thought. "Listen. We don't need you here. We can do this without a winy little brat screaming at us every second. Now, I suggest you take your fake I.D., girly purse, and nice clothes, and go crawl back home. I don't have time for this. Let the professionals handle this."
"Professionals? I'm sorry. I'm pretty sure I've doing this longer than you. Unlike you, I actually know what I'm doing. You're the one getting in my way!" She knew what she said was incorrect, but it was the best she could come up with in her fuming state.
"Oh please. A girl like you can't take a job like this."
"Is that what this is about? You don't think women are capable of being hunters. Well, I have to tell you-"
"Guys! Hey!" All of the shouting was drawing attention to the threesome. Sam knew that was breaking one of the first rules of hunting. "Why don't we just work together?"
"NO!" Dean and Sarah shouted at the same time. Neither of them had noticed before, but as they screamed at each other, they migrated toward one another. They're chests were nearly touching. They were silent for a moment, but only for a moment. They both seemed to have forgotten that they were fighting.
Sarah backed away a few feet. She knew getting close was not an option. Keeping people close meant getting hurt and she didn't want that happening again. Not ever. "I'm sorry, Sam. You, I would mind working with. At least you seem smart and can keep a level head. But you're brother. Well you're brother is just an ass."
"Well, you're no basket full of puppies yourself. In fact, you're a total bitch."
"Dean. Come one. We could use her. She seems to know what she's doing in terms of lying and getting into places." Sam then turned to Sarah. "And it looks like you could use the muscle, at least just for this. Once this is done and solved, then we can part ways and never look back. Deal?"
Sarah shifted, contemplating her options. "If, IF, I work with you, does that give me access to the reports? In full?"
"Yes."
"Oh, come on, Sam. You can't actually be thinking letting her come along is a good idea." Dean could see that something about this girl was off. Hunters usually don't travel by themselves. They might do a case or two alone, but not always. They usually had a contact near by in case things got hairy. She was different and he didn't trust her for a second.
She huffed seeing no other choice. "Fine. But if either of you cross me, you'll regret it." She walked ahead of them, wasting no time.
"You want to meet us at the house in your car?" Sam asked.
"Nope. Might as well just go with you now."
He ran to catch up to her, leaving Dean in the ally. "What about your car?"
"Don't have one."
"Why not?"
Questions, questions, questions. What's with all of the questions? "Listen, I'm not here to tell you about my feelings and my whole life story. Just give me a ride and make both of our lives easier."
"Yeah. Right."
Sarah knew Sam's type. He was the type to work things out logically, not physically. He was a lover not a fighter, mostly. She could tell that Sam was also the get married and have a bunch of rugrats type, a type she turned away from for that reason. Sam wanted to build up healthy, happy relationships, have friends and a family. In this business, being alone is the best option. This wasn't a job for Sam.
"So, which beat up, hunk of crap is yours?"
"How do you know it's a hunk of crap?" Sam found joy in her question and grinned when he thought what she was in for.
"Because it's a hunter's car. I guess you didn't notice, but we don't get payed very much. A nice car is a luxury people like us never get to enjoy."
Dean sped past her. "Wanna bet?" He walk right up to a black classic car in nearly pristine condition. It shinned in Sarah's eyes as Dean opened the driver's side door.
"A Chevy?"
Dean stood between open door and the car. "Yeah. You know anything about cars?"
"No. It says it on the front." Sarah looked to Sam as he laughed silently at Dean. "I assume you're taking shotgun?"
"Yeah. At least, that's where I normally sit."
"Thought so. I'll take the back." She slid past Dean and opened the back door behind the driver. Sam and Dean only stared at her. "What are you two waiting for? Times a ticking." She bent down and entered the car.
Sam looked at Dean, still laughing. "What's so funny?" Dean snapped.
"Nothing." Sam gleefully walked over to his side and climbed in.
Dean was the last to get into the car. He knew that he had beaten the random mysterious hunter in the back and couldn't help but feel the need to rub it in. "All hunters have crappy cars, huh?" He said as he started the engine.
She hated to admit that she was wrong. One feature Sarah could never get over. "It's not the worst I've seen."
"Come one, admit it. You and your stupid stereotype was wrong." He turned over in his seat to stare at her face. He so desperately wanted to see her thin pink lips say she liked the car.
"Fine. It's a nice car. What do you want? A medal?"
"No. That's victory enough." Dean turned back to the wheel and started to tenderly stroke the freshly cleaned dashboard. "We win again, Baby."
Baby? Sarah asked herself. "He can't be serious."
Sam tilted his head to answer her. "Oh, yes. He is."
"Oh my God. I've hopped a ride with a lunatic."
"Hey!" Dean yelled, insulted. "If this is going to work, you need to leave the car out of your little insults. You got it?"
Sarah chuckled halfheartedly. "Yeah, whatever you say, man."
"Good." Dean turned up the radio as ACDC came blaring through the speakers.
"Really?" Who does this guy think he is?
"Yup." Dean turned the music up even higher to try and drown out the sound of her voice.
But that didn't stop her. "This is the music my dad listens to."
Dean heard her remark about his music but pretended he didn't. He put his pointer and middle finger up to his ear. "I'm sorry. I can't hear you. The musics too loud."
Sarah slumped in her seat, knowing what he was doing. "Moron," she slipped under her breath.
From there, Sarah, Sam, and Dean sat silently as they drove to the house of the victim to talk to his daughter.
A/N- Okay. I know I uploaded the introduction a long time ago, but never got around to actually writing any chapters, but that's about to change. Here is the first official chapter of Hitching a Ride. Please review and let me know what you think. I would love to hear your feed back on Sarah and her first encounter with Sam and Dean. I would also love to hear whatever ideas you all had in terms of where this story should go. I have a pretty good idea about main points, but maybe you guys could help fill in the blanks. I promise to upload more as long as it does well. Love you all and thank you for reading this story. See you in the next chapter. :)
The name of every chapter is going to be a name of a song that I feel relates to the chapter in some way. This chapter's song is Basket Case by Green Day. The story was also named after another Green Day song Hitching a Ride.
