The Purge Part 1

Lebanon, Kansas

Angela sat at the kitchen table browsing the internet as Sam walked into the room.

"Hey." Sam greeted.

Angela glanced up at him quickly. "Hey."

"You didn't come to bed last night," Sam commented, without much concern in his voice. "Or the past few nights."

"Um," Angela cleared her throat. "I've been sleeping in one of the empty bedrooms. Figured you still wanted some space. Besides, I haven't been sleeping much anyway, so… research."

"Gadreel?" Sam asked as he rummaged around the kitchen.

"And Metatron and the Mark of Cain and…" she looked up and realized that Sam wasn't really paying attention. "Crickets. I did find us a case, though."

"Oh, yeah?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, there was a strange death in Stillwater, Minnesota," Angela replied. "A competitive eater died after a hot-dog eating contest."

"So, what? Death by tube steak?" Sam questioned.

"If only." Angela scoffed. "He got attacked in his car, but, get this—he shrunk from 300 pounds to 90 pounds."

"Witchcraft?" Sam's brows furrowed.

"Or a heavy-duty laxative," Angela muttered. "You game?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

"Good." Angela nodded. "I'll let Dean know and I'll see if we can bring Gracie to Jody's on the way."

Angela got up to leave, but Sam stopped her in the doorway.

"You sure you're okay, Angela?" Sam asked.

Angela pursed her lips. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"'Cause—I don't know, you… This isn't about what I said the other day, is it?" Sam quirked a brow.

"Oh, about how we're not supposed to be family anymore?" Angela retorted. "No, don't flatter yourself, Sam. You know me. I don't break that easy."

"Oh, good." Sam nodded. "'Cause I was just being honest."

"Oh, yeah," Angela replied sarcastically. "No, I got that loud and clear."

~/~\~

Stillwater, Minnesota

Sam, Dean, and Angela walked into the police station in their FBI apparel. Sheriff Donna Hanscum came over with two reports and handed one to Sam.

"Thanks for your patience, agents." Donna started. "Coroner's reports finally came in."

"Alright, thank you." Sam nodded. "Alright, let's see. Did Wayne McNut really weigh 300 pounds just moments before time of death?"

"316 to be exact." Donna corrected.

"And the official cause of death?" Angela questioned.

"Cardiac arrest," Donna answered. "But between you and me, that's just a guess. The vic suffered massive organ damage." She explained before turning around and handing the other report to Jenny. "Here you go, Jenny." She smiled before turning back to the hunters. "Ruptured spleen, pierced liver, collapsed lung. Looked like everything was just sucked right out of him."

"Like he'd been hoovered?" Dean raised his brows.

"Yeah." Donna nodded. "Yeah, you know, I got to be honest—hm?" she took a powdered donut out of a box and offered them one.

Dean gladly walked over and grabbed a donut for himself.

"We're stumped." Donna continued. "This type of things just doesn't happen in Stillwater."

Donna took a big bite out of her powdered donut and it covered her mouth and black tie with white powdered sugar.

Sam glanced down at the report. "Now, did Wayne have any enemies?"

"Hmm," Donna hummed. "More like an unfriendly rivalry."

Dean took a huge bite out of his donut and white powder covered his lips and face.

"A guy named 'Slim Jim' Morgan," Donna continued. "Like Wayne, he was pretty well-known in the competitive-eatin' circuit."

Angela noticed Dean's face, stifling a giggle. She attempted to subtly motion Dean to wipe his face and Dean wiped the side of his mouth, completely missing the powder.

"Competitive-eating circuit?" Angela turned her attention back to Donna. "Is that a big thing out here?"

"Oh, yeah. You betcha." Donna nodded vigorously. "Folks take it real seriously—train for months. Eat all sorts of wackadoo stuff, you know, like, uh… Baked beans, buff wings, butter."

"Butter?" Dean's brows shot up.

"Yeah. Sometimes deep-fried." Donna replied.

"Hm." Dean hummed as he took another bite of his donut.

"This year alone, Wayne won the Butter Bowl, the Wing Dig, and Shrimptasia," Donna explained. "Anyhoo, point being, Wayne McNut was the only one Slim Jim couldn't beat in the whole Great Lakes region."

"So, is he a suspect?" Dean questioned.

"We checked him out, but Slim Jim was in the Hot Doggery at the time of Wayne's death, and we got 15 witnesses to prove it," Donna explained.

"Really?" Dean asked.

"Yah." Donna nodded, taking another bite of her donut.

~/~\~

Sam, Dean, and Angela were at 'Slim Jim' Morgan's house, interviewing him. Dean eyed Slim Jim, who was eating a gigantic bowl of lettuce.

"Training." Slim Jim commented through a mouthful. "When I gear up for a competition, I eat lettuce—stretches the stomach."

Dean cringed. "Yet another reason to stay away from salads."

"How well did you know Wayne McNut?" Angela questioned.

"Well, well enough to know he was a weasel and a cheat." Slim Jim answered. "I hate to say it, but, uh, karma's a bitch."

Dean noticed a shelf full of spell jars and funnily shaped boxes. "This is interesting."

"Mala's good-luck charms." Slim Jim replied.

"And Mala is…?" Dean raised his brows.

"My old lady." Slim Jim replied.

"Is your old lady superstitious?" Dean asked curiously.

"Yah." Slim Jim nodded. "She's Romanichal."

Dean's brows furrowed in confusion. "Romanichal?"

"Gypsy." Sam clarified.

"But don't call her that." Slim Jim noted. "She says it's reductive. But I think it's a compliment. I mean, gypsies are all the rage on TV—'My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding,' 'Gypsy Sisters'… 'Keeping up with the Kardashians.'"

"Um," Sam cleared his throat. "You mind if I use your bathroom."

"Yeah, go ahead." Slim Jim nodded. "But use the one upstairs at the back. Mala's taking a shower in ours."

"Right," Sam replied as he left the room.

"Did you really lose the 'Wiener Winner' by one dog?" Dean quirked a brow.

"Yah." Slim Jim sighed sadly.

~/~\~

Sam walked into Slim Jim and Mala's shared bedroom. The shower was running, so he took a quick look around. Sam noticed a hex bag on the nightstand, grabbing it before Mala could catch him.

~/~\~

"And what are we talkin'?" Dean asked curiously. "Six inches? Foot-long?"

"Look, agents," Slim Jim replied, slightly annoyed. "Am I a suspect here or what? 'Cause unless you got a warrant—

Sam walked into the room and cleared his throat. "You guys, uh, ready to go?"

"Yeah." Angela nodded. "Uh, Mr. Morgan, thank you for your time. If you remember anything else, this is our number and where we're staying locally." She explained as she handed him their card.

~/~\~

Back at the motel, Dean picked up the pieces of the hex bag on the table.

"Alright, so, we got what appears to be Wayne McNut's hair and… a bag full of weird." He cringed.

"In Romanichal culture, the pouch is called a putsi bag." Sam read from the laptop. "It's used for hexes."

"Okay, so, what?" Angela asked. "Mala's putting hexes on hubby's competition?"

Sam just shrugged in response.

"I mean, what do we got ourselves?" Dean asked with a frown. "A 'thinner' stitch here?"

"Slim Jim might not even know." Angela sighed.

"Hm." Dean hummed.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. The three hunters exchanged confused looks and Dean got up and drew his gun. He looked through the peephole and shrugged. Dean opened the door to reveal Mala, who had a smile on her face.

"Hi." Dean greeted.

"I believe you have something of mine." Mala accused.

~/~\~

Mala sat in the hotel room and Dean handed her a glass of water.

"Kill Wayne?" she asked wide-eyed. "I loved him!"

"So… you were…" Angela trailed off.

"Yes." Mala sighed heavily. "Okay? We were having an affair—for years, actually."

"I don't mean to be rude," Dean started gently. "Uh… but how is it that Wayne McNut is your type? I mean, you're married to a man who's barely a buck—wet."

"What can I say?" Mala shrugged. "Sometimes it's nice to feel a little give."

"Oh," Dean nodded. "Yeah, I get that—a little extra cushion for the, uh…"

Sam and Angela both shot Dean a look, effectively shutting him up. Sam cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Mala.

"Help me understand something," he started. "If you loved Wayne, why did you put a curse on him?"

"It wasn't a curse. Putsi bags are also used for blessings." Mala corrected. "I wanted Wayne to win. Plan was, take the prize money, get a quickie divorce, and then tie the knot in Orlando. Wayne used to call me his 'Princess Jasmine.'"

Dean smiled almost wistfully but quickly hid it when Sam and Angela looked over.

~/~\~

The next morning, Sam, Dean, Angela, and the police were at the crime scene in the gym.

"Any idea what the vic weighed beforehand?" Angela questioned.

"165." The officer answered.

"So… 180. Known fact—all women lie about their weight and age." Dean replied.

Angela narrowed her eyes. "Wait, you told that waitress the other day you were 29."

"Mm-hmm." Dean nodded.

"Need anything else, agents?" the officer interjected.

"Yeah, is Sheriff Hanscum around?" Sam asked curiously.

"Sorry." The officer shook his head. "She's out for the rest of the week. Hell of a time to take a vacation, right?" he added before walking off.

"Okay, so, we have two victims, with seemingly nothing in common except, uh—

"A love for chocolate eclairs." Dean cut Sam off. "Check this out."

The three hunters bent down to look at the body and Angela pulled the woman's shirt up to reveal a large, circular suction mark.

"What is that?" Angela frowned. "A birthmark?"

"Huh," Sam muttered. "So, the weight had to come off somehow, right? What if it's a suction mark?"

"A suction mark?" Dean raised his brows. "Okay. Uh, changeling?"

"Yeah, but changelings only take over kids. Neither of the vics had any." Sam frowned.

"And we don't know if Wayne McNut had a suction mark," Angela added.

"Unless we missed it," Sam argued.

Dean's gaze traveled to a rather attractive woman, who was talking to an officer. "Yeah. Well, we should split up. Two of us should hit the morgue. The other should stay here and question the staff."

Sam followed Dean's gaze. "I'll stay."

"Uh, no, not happening." Angela cut in.

"Why?" Sam scoffed.

"One, you're still married," Angela replied. "And two, you're… awkward around girls."

Sam's brows furrowed. "How am I awkward around girls? Like you said, we're married."

"You were kinda weird around her before you guys got together," Dean admitted.

"See?" Angela shrugged. "Awkward. Sorry, Sam. I'm just… being honest."

Angela walked off, her heels clacking on the floor and Sam sighed heavily.

"Dude…" Dean started.

"I don't want to talk about it, Dean." Sam huffed.

~/~\~

"So, you were scheduled to close the gym last night?" Angela asked the gym trainer.

"Yeah, but I didn't exactly lock up. Carol was still working out, and," the woman sighed. "I had a date. I didn't want to shortchange her, you know? I mean, the poor girl has been working so hard to lose weight for her wedding. I slipped her the key, and I told her to lock up on her way out."

The woman started to cry and when she leaned over the counter to grab a tissue, her shirt rode up slightly, revealing a suction mark on her back. Angela's brows furrowed slightly.

"Oh, it's all my fault." The gym trainer cried.

~/~\~

Back at the motel, Angela sat on the bed with her back to the headboard and the laptop on her lap. Sam and Dean walked into the room.

"Hey." Sam greeted.

"You guys find anything at the morgue?" Angela asked curiously.

"Yeah." Dean nodded. "Uh, so Wayne was banged up pretty bad. But on the back of his neck, just below his hairline… suction mark—identical to Carol's."

"Okay, so, they both had marks, just like the trainer at Rollz," Angela replied.

Sam's brows furrowed in confusion. "But she was skinny… and alive."

"And just recently lost a ton of weight," Angela started. "When I asked her about the mark, she, uh—she clammed up, got all embarrassed. So, uh, I did some checking. And it turns out that she took a couple of 'me' days last month and went here."

Angela turned the laptop around so Sam and Dean could see a website advertising a day spa called 'Canyon Valley.'

"Canyon Valley?" the brothers asked simultaneously.

"Hm. Yeah." Angela nodded, pushing play on a promo video.

"When you look in the mirror, do you recognize the fat person staring back at you?" a woman with a thick Peruvian accent asked. "Have you tried every fad diet, every fitness trend out there, but nothing seems to work? Here at Canyon Valley, we guarantee weight loss with no surgery. No extreme dieting… and no intensive workout regimen. Guaranteed results in one week! You can reach your weight-loss goals." She explained. "We did. But only if you reach for the phone and call Canyon Valley… Now."

"How far away is that place?" Dean questioned.

"Couple of hours," Angela replied.

~/~\~

Sam, Dean, and Angela were being interviewed by Maritza and Larry.

"We were really, really moved by the online testimonials." Angela smiled softly.

"Oh, yeah." Dean agreed. "That was some powerful stuff."

"And you three are certified, personal trainers?" Maritza raised her brows.

"Mm-hmm." Angela hummed. "Kind of like a personal training family."

"And you're certified in…" Larry trailed off.

"Makin' people sweat!" Dean exclaimed with a grin. "Yeah. Kickin' ass and takin' names!" he slammed his hand on the table. "That's how we do!"

"Uh… Uh, to clarify, uh, what my brother's trying to say is," Sam cut in. "The three of us have a passion for fitness and helping people."

"Oh, us too." Maritza beamed. "In fact, that's how we met."

"I was Maritza's first client back in Peru," Larry added. "I was on a student visa—homesick, stressed, eating my troubles away."

"Oh, he was the size of a casa." Maritza chuckled.

"Oh, it's true!" Larry nodded. "I was one empanada away from a heart attack. But then this… gorgeous godsend made me the lean, mean, fighting machine I am today."

Larry stood up and performed various Kungfu fighting techniques.

"Ho! Oh…" Dean stared with wide eyes.

"But I digress," Larry sat back down. "Now, the good news is, we are hiring. The bad news is, there's only two trainer positions available." He explained before turning his attention to Dean. "How do you feel about working in another department?"

Dean's brows furrowed in confusion. "Huh?"

~/~\~

Dean, wearing a hairnet, watched over the lunchroom. Sam and Angela walked up, both of them wearing workout clothes.

"Nice shorts." Dean smirked at Sam. "And nice yoga pants, Angie."

"Nice hairnet." Sam shot back.

"Yeah, why do I got to be the lunch lady?" Dean grumbled.

"Since when have you ever complained about being around food?" Angela chuckled.

"Okay, this is not food," Dean argued.

"Hey, new guy." Alonso snapped. "Quit flirtin' with the trainer and keep scoopin', huh?"

Dean glared at him and Sam checked his watch.

"It's alright." Sam sighed. "Our, uh… Ashtanga yoga class starts in five minutes."

"How the hell do you two know anything about yoga?" Dean questioned.

"I'm, uh, pretty bendy, Dean," Angela smirked before she and Sam left.

Dean blinked a few times as someone walked up to him.

"Hey, you have any oatmeal?" the man asked.

"Yeah, I wish." Dean chuckled. "No, but we have, uh, something that's tofu over there. I—what is that? It's a pancake. It's tofu."

A/N: Hey, guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As you can see, things are starting to get a little tense ;) As always, thank you for the recent reviews, your feedback is extremely important to me. Love you guys, xoxo.

~Emily