The Johnson Twins 4: Welcome to the Jungle
"Shit. How did you find us?" Glory opened the door to the small cabin, rolling her eyes at the brothers. "Hey Desi, I hope you got yourself all dolled up girl, because our hubby's are here." She walked into the house, letting the door partially close on Dean and Sam.
"That was a nice trick you pulled back there, Desi." Dean caught the door before it slammed in his face, looking right at her, winking. "Expertly executed. Handcuffs when we weren't looking. I have to say, I'm impressed."
It was Desi's turn to roll her eyes. "Well, thanks. That was my goal, actually. Impress Dean Winchester." She put a pair of oven mitts into her purse. "How'd you find us?"
"Not going to tell you that." Dean smirked. "What's with the oven mitts?"
"We're going after Elizabeth Pomfrey." Glory stated.
"And Elizabeth Pomfrey is?" Dean raised his brows.
"I'm gonna guess she's the cursed person." Sam said, standing there with his hands on his hips.
Dean nodded. "Right. Seriously, though, if you don't want to touch her... haven't you ladies ever heard of gloves?"
"The oven mitts are... available." Desi shrugged.
"They do lack a certain amount of style." Glory admitted. "But they'll get the job done."
"What do you plan to do with her once you have her? How do you even get rid of a curse on a person?" Sam asked the older of the two women.
"Is there even a way?" Dean asked. "Or do we have to gank her."
Glory looked at him, hands on hips. "We tried to lose you, because unlike you two ass hats, we're going to try to cure her. Not just knock her off and call it quits." She shook her head.
"That's why you've been trying to get rid of us all along?" Sam asked. Both women nodded.
"You two don't fuck around." Desi stated bluntly.
"From what we hear, neither do you." Dean countered.
"We at least try to keep people alive." Glory glared at him.
"Hey, hey, so do we!" Dean put up his hands. "Sammy here's practically a hippie. Free love, hug a tree, all that shit."
"What?" Sam gave him a long-suffering look. "Whatever, Dean." He turned back to Desi. "If there's a way to cure her, I'll find it. We're not just going to kill some woman because she's cursed."
Desi looked at the brothers suspiciously. "Are you sure?" They both nodded.
"But it's pretty important we get to her before Crowley does. Because whatever he wants with her, can't be good." Sam countered.
"Fine." Glory sighed. "We'll all go get her. But you'll have to find your own gloves or something. We only have two pairs of oven mitts."
They all piled out of the Impala in front of the antique shop. It was mid afternoon, and there were a couple of customers. They went in, and the girls and Sam pretended to browse while Dean took a look around, sneaking into the back. He found a door to an office, and pushed it open gently. A middle aged woman sat at the desk, typing numbers into a spreadsheet on a computer. She looked up when she heard the door creak.
"Can I help you?" She asked, pushing her glasses up on her nose. She looked like a kindly grandmother. Dean cringed inwardly. He hoped she didn't try to run. Tackling Mrs. Claus was not going to be the highlight of his day.
"Are you Elizabeth Pomfrey?" Dean asked, entering the room. He sneakily checked to make sure his sleeves were pulled all the way down and his gloves were pulled up. He didn't want any of her weird curse bullshit touching him.
"Yes. I am. Why?" She looked at him suspiciously.
"Ms. Pomfrey, I'm afraid you need to come with me." He pulled out his FBI badge. "I'm Agent Sambora. I'm here investigating the series of deaths around the shop recently."
"I see." Ms. Pomfrey stood up. "Just let me get my coat." She gathered her coat and approached him. He involuntarily stepped away from her. All it took was a second, but she shoved all her weight against him, sending him toppling over a chair, and she booked it towards the exit.
"She's coming your way, Sammy!" Dean shouted, climbing up from the floor. He'd been taken out by an old lady- he'd never live that one down. He quickly sprinted after her down the hall. The shop was in a frenzy. He saw Desi, Glory, and Sam in a pile, and under them, Ms. Pomfrey's hands and feet sticking out. All he could see of the cursed woman was her fingers and her sensible, non slip shoes.
"We got her." Desi said, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. She looked around at the horrified shoppers.
"It's cool, everyone. FBI business." Dean flashed his badge, pulled out his gun, and they pulled Ms. Pomfrey off of the ground. He saw some of the patrons eye the oven mitts and gardening gloves they were wearing to handle the elderly woman. "I said FBI business! Move along!" Dean shouted.
They pulled Ms. Pomfrey out of the building, Sam on one arm and Glory on the other, Dean following with his gun trained on her. When they got to the Impala, He moved around to face her. "Why'd you run?"
"Why are you after me?"
"Honey, everyone you touch dies. We're here to fix that. Or had you not noticed?" Glory stepped in, looking Ms. Pomfrey up and down grimly.
"I noticed. But it's been going on a long time. I got used to it." She shrugged. "I figured you were going to kill me. I ran."
"A regular Typhoid Mary, aren't you?" Dean scowled. "You got used to it? You didn't think to try to stop it?" Elizabeth Pomfrey shrugged nonchalantly. "Great. She's cursed and a bitch. Put her in the trunk."
"We're gonna put a middle aged woman in the trunk?" Sam asked incredulously.
"Yes. Yes we are." Dean replied. "Only, don't think of it that way, Sammy. We're putting a middle aged killer in the trunk. For safe keeping. She can't accidentally off anyone while she's in there."
Desi opened the trunk, and Glory cuffed the woman and pushed her in.
"I have rights! I'm an American citizen! I pay taxes!" Desi slammed the trunk of the car.
Desi looked at Dean, then her eyes settled on Sam and she gave him a soft smile. "Good riddance." She said. "Let's get going. The sooner we uncurse this bitch, the better."