Reach down your hand in your pocket
Pull out some hope for me
It's been a long day, always ain't that right
And no Lord your hand won't stop it
Just keep you trembling
It's been a long day, always ain't that right
THE USUAL SUSPECTS
Cafe
Three Days Ago
I had been chattering away for a good couple of minutes watching as Dean got more and more sidetracked, looking at the paper. He was now totally caught up in whatever it was that he was reading. I leaned forward with a smile.
"And that's when I realised... I was totally carrying Johnny Depp's baby and not only was it a baby, it was twins! Now you tell me how I'm supposed to break that to the man?" I said casually, Dean nodded at me as if he was listening.
"Mmhmmm... I can see how that might be a prob..." He looked up sharply at me, frowning and I raised my eyebrow. "Wait, what did you say?" He asked.
I smirked and leaned back in my chair as Sam put my coffee in front of me, flashing him a smile.
"Nothing," I said, picking up my coffee and taking a tentative sip in case it was really hot. "Now you want to tell me what's got you so entranced with that newspaper?"
He held up the front page to Sam and me, the headline read: Man's Throat Slit Without A Trace. I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head to the side a little, trying to read some of the print.
"Anthony Giles?" I asked, catching a name under a photo.
"He's a Baltimore lawyer. Working late in his office, check it out." Dean said, sliding the newspaper over to me.
I turned it to face me and quickly scanned the article, Sam reading over my shoulder.
"Uh... throat was slit, room was clean. Huh. No DNA, no prints..." I looked up a Dean, he smiled at me.
"Keep reading, it gets better," he said.
Sam started to read the next paragraph. "'Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant,'" he quoted from the article. I glanced up at Dean, curious expression on my face, he grinned knowing that I was intrigued.
"So I'm thinking either somebody tampered with the tapes..." he said.
"Or it's an invisible killer." I finished, nodding.
"My favourite kind." Dean said with a smile, then looked at Sam. "What do you think, Scully? You wanna check it out?"
Sam frowned and looked at him. "I'm not Scully, Beth's Scully, she's the girl." He looked over at me and I shook my head.
"No way, I'm Skinner, because I'm the boss," I said with a grin.
"And I'm Mulder. You're the red-headed woman Sam, end of story." Dean said, taking a drink of his coffee. Sam just stared at us both, rolling his eyes. Either way way, we were definitely going to check out Baltimore.
Baltimore, Maryland
Yesterday
We were sitting in the home of Karen Giles, wife of Anthony, the man who had been murdered. She was a young woman with dark hair and dark-framed glasses. Her eyes were red and face blotchy from crying. Clearly, she was devastated at what had happened to her husband.
Sam and Dean were in their suits, and sitting on the couch in front of her, I hovered behind them for a moment before taking a seat in one of the armchairs.
"Insurance. I totally forgot about the insurance," Karen said, shaking her head.
"We're very sorry to bother you right now, but the company is required to conduct its own investigation. You understand." Sam said to her, turning on the puppy-dog eyes.
"Sure," Karen said with a shrug, nodding.
"OK. Um. If you could just tell us anything you remember about the night your husband died?" Sam asked gently.
Karen looked thoughtful before starting to speak. "Uh, Tony and I were just supposed to have dinner. He called and said he was having computer troubles and that, that he had to work late. That was it," she said.
"Do you have any idea who could have done this to him?" I asked, making pretend notes on a notepad.
"No. No, it's like I told the police, I, I have no idea." Karen said, shaking her head.
"Did Tony mention anything, you know, unusual to you? In the days before his death?" Dean chimed in.
Karen looked confused. "Unusual?"
"Yeah, like strange," Dean asked, tilting his head to the side.
She was still baffled by the question, shaking her head. "Strange?"
Dean looked a little frustrated. "You know, Karen, weird? Weird noises, uh, visions, anything like that?" He asked. I threw him a warning glance at the tone and he took a deep breath.
"He had a nightmare the day before he died," Karen said finally, looking as if she didn't know how it would be relevant.
"What kind of a nightmare?" Sam asked.
"Uh, he said that he woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed, he blinked and she was gone, I mean, it was just a nightmare," she said with a shrug.
"Did he say what she looked like?" Dean asked.
"What the hell difference does it make what she looked like?" Karen asked with a scowl.
"Uh, it's just, our, our company's very thorough." Dean said, grasping for a good reason. She looked doubtful, but then shrugged.
"He said she was pale, and she had dark red eyes."
I exchanged a look with Dean, we both shrugged, the description didn't really mean much on its own.
Anthony Giles' Office
Present Day
Sam picked the lock to Anthony Giles' office and we all entered the room, ducking under the police tape that was in our way. There was a pool of blood still on the floor.
"So, Anthony Giles' body was found right about here," Sam said, gesturing to the blood and reading from some paperwork. "Throat slit so deep part of his spinal cord was visible." I grimaced, shaking my head at the image, that was just disturbing.
Dean whistled in awe. "What do you think? Vengeful spirit? Underlining vengeful?" He asked.
"Yeah, maybe. I mean he did see that woman at the foot of his bed," Sam said with a shrug.
I was by the desk, taking a look around when a sheet of paper caught my attention.
"Guys, take a look at this," I said, holding up the paper. It was covered in a small font with the word "danashulps" repeated over and over until it filled the page.
"Dana Shulps. A name?" Sam asked, looking at us both. Dean frowned and looked at the other papers on the desk.
"I don't know, but it's everywhere," Dean said, holding up some more sheets with the same writing on it. "Well all work and no play make Jack a dull boy," he said with a grin.
Sam looked at the glass table in front of him, raising an eyebrow. He breathed on to the glass, and the same letters – DANASHULPS – were revealed with the heat of his breath.
"Wow. OK. I'd say we've officially crossed over into weird," I said, staring at the table.
"Maybe Giles knew her?" Dean suggested, taking another look at the paper in his hand.
"Or maybe it's the name of our pale red-eyed mystery girl," Sam said, standing up and taking a step back from the table.
I looked around the office, internally groaning at the amount of filing cabinets in the room. "Well. Let's see what we can see," I said, taking out a pick so that I could unlock the first filing cabinet.
A few hours later and we had found nothing. We'd looked through all the computer files, the filing cabinets, and the paper files that had been sitting in the desk. Nothing. Sam was still working away at the computer on the desk, Dean and I were leaning side by side against the filing cabinets.
"There's not a single mention of a Dana Shulps anywhere. There's not a D. Shulps. Or any other kind of friggin' Shulps." Dean said with a frustrated sigh.
"Great," Sam said, frowning.
"What have you got?" Dean asked Sam while sliding his arm around my waist.
"Nothing. No Dana Shulps has ever lived or died in Baltimore in the last fifty years at least," Sam said, looking up at us.
"So what now?" I asked, leaning against Dean, enjoying the warmth of his body.
"Well, I think I'm pretty close to cracking Giles' password. Maybe there's something in his personal files, you know?" Sam said, looking hopeful.
Dean looked at his brother, dubious. "By close you mean...?"
"Thirty minutes, maybe?" Sam said with a shrug.
Dean looked at his watch and sighed. "Awesome," he muttered, looking at me. "So I guess we just get to... uh... hang out." I smiled, waiting was never Dean's strong suit.
Sam looked back at the computer, concentrating. Dean threw me a grin and guided me over to the love-seat that was against the wall in the office, sitting down and pulling me down into his lap. He started to kiss his way along my neck, and I tried not to giggle as he tickled me with his tongue.
He was in a playful mood, but it turned serious after a few minutes when he started to kiss me in earnest, his lips moving to claim mine with a hunger. He shifted me into a more comfortable position, sideways on his lap, and snaked a hand up under my shirt, brushing it along my bare skin. We both moaned a little with the touch as we kissed.
Sam looked up at us in disgust. "Guys! Seriously?" He asked, shaking his head at us. We broke apart from the kiss, Dean still had his hand under my shirt, but it had stilled. He looked at me, eyes full of playful ideas, but then he sighed – we both knew we should be focusing on the job at hand.
"All right, we're gonna go talk to Karen again, see if she knows anything about this Dana Shulps, ok?" Dean said, helping me up off his lap.
"Great," Sam said, looking back at his computer again.
"Keep going Sparky," Dean said with an amused expression, then he grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door.
"Try not to get sidetracked, huh?" Sam called out to us as we left. Dean snorted and led me toward the car.
When we got to Karen Giles' house Dean turned off the car and looked over at me, running a hand along my neck and up into my hair.
"You know, I can think of a few better things to be doing than questioning this woman..." he said suggestively and I grinned. I slid over to him and kissed him lingeringly on the lips.
"Mmm, sounds great," I said, but then frowned. "But it's getting late, she might not be a night owl like us," I said, looking up at the house where there was still a light on.
Dean sighed and nodded. "Yeah ok, but afterwards, we're going to go find a nice little secluded lookout somewhere... you know, where all the kids go to get their fun on, and maybe we can christen the back seat now it's practically brand new?" He said with a smile, kissing me again. I nodded, wishing we could just get to it right now.
"Deal," I said with a grin, and I slid back to the door, getting out before he managed to change my mind about going to talk to Karen.
I knocked on the door when we got to the front porch.
"Karen, you in there?" I called out when there wasn't an answer. Dean shrugged and took out the lock picks from his pocket, glancing around to see if there were any people out for an evening stroll. There wasn't.
He picked the look and let us into the house, flipping the switch – the light didn't work. We walked through the house, looking for Karen, and I gasped when I entered the living room.
Karen was lying in a pool of blood, her throat slashed, just like her husband's had been. Dean exchanged a look with me, one that wanted to know what the hell was going on.
There was a little alcove off the living room which had a desk, I had wandered over to it, and noticed there was about ten pages of printed document uncollected from the tray. I lifted a page and frowned, looking up at Dean.
"Dana Shulps," I said. The paper was filled with the word, just like at Giles' office. Dean frowned.
"Seriously, what the hell?" He asked, kneeling down by Karen's body. He lifted a wrist and pointed out the bruises that were there.
"Freeze!" A woman's voice said, and Dean looked up, surprised. "Stay on your knees. Hands where I can see them. Now!" Dean complied, throwing me a look that said to stay hidden. I dropped back into the shadows of the alcove, watching Dean look over at the policewoman.
"Cuff him," the policewoman said and I swallowed. There were two of them. I realised the alcove had another entrance, one that was behind me and led to the kitchen. I looked back at Dean, hesitating, but his look was clear – I was to leave him and get out. I blew him a kiss with a worried look, and then I got out of there. He was right, no point in us both getting caught. I had to get to Sam.
The Impala was surrounded by a couple of cop cars, so I had to go on foot. By the time I was able to flag down a taxi and get to the motel, Sam was being escorted out of the room by police. What on earth was going on here? How had they found us so quickly?
"Stop, uh, you know what?" I said to the taxi driver, thinking quickly. "I'm gonna need to make another stop. Is there a 24 hour department store nearby?" I asked. He looked at me strangely, but then nodded. I looked at the jeans and leather jacket I was wearing, I was going to need a new outfit.
Police Station
An hour later, the taxi was pulling up in front of the police station, and I was slipping into my new heels, and tossing my previous outfit in the duffel bag I'd just purchased. I got out and handed the taxi driver a fist full of bills I'd withdrawn from an ATM, paying him double what the fare had been.
"Thanks for that," I said with a smile and he gaped at the money.
"Hey no problem, any time lady," he said with a smile and pulled away from the station. I straightened my new outfit, a knee-length black pinstriped skirt, white shirt and black jacket. I had a brief case in one hand, the duffel in the other. The latter I hid in the bushes before taking a deep breath, running my hand through my hair, and heading into the station. I repeated the mantra John had always taught us when going undercover... I belong here, I belong here, I belong here.
"Can I help you?" A policewoman asked, as I came into the foyer.
"Yes, Beth Andrews, with the public defender's office." I said to her, smiling. She frowned at me and then glanced down at the sign-in book.
"I already have someone from your office signed in, Jeffrey Kraus?" She said, looking at me questioningly. I frowned, thinking that had been awfully quick for the office to get here.
"Uh, yes, but there's two in custody, isn't there?" I asked innocently. She frowned at me.
"Yes," she confirmed.
"I'm here for the other one." I said with a smile. She shrugged and had me sign in, then showed me down the hallway to the interview rooms. There was a middle-aged man with a kind face standing out the front of one of the rooms, he was conversing with a male detective, tall, dark, handsome – but with a mean streak to him, you could see it in his eyes. They were talking about someone's rights to speak with their attorney, the detective didn't like it and was stalling.
"Jeffrey!" I said, going with a hunch, and the middle-aged man turned to look at me.
"Yes?" He asked, confused, clearly he didn't know who I was.
"I knew I recognised you from court. Beth Andrews," I said, extending my hand. "The office has sent me down to assist you in deposing our client." I said to him, and he shook my hand with a smile.
"Well, highly irregular," he said, looking from me to the detective who was staring at me with cold eyes.
"I'm new, fresh from the bar exams, you might say. They want me to tag along with some of the more high level attorneys, get a look in on how things work," I explained, and Kraus started nodding, pleased with the flattering I'd done.
"Yes, yes of course. Please, come on in." He looked at the detective. "I was just about to go and see our client." The detective sighed and waved him past to an interview room door. Kraus inclined his head and walked past, I followed.
Kraus knocked on the door, and then stuck his head into the room.
"Mr. Winchester?" He asked hesitantly.
"Yeah," Dean's voice came from inside the room. I kept my face neutral, but my heart skipped a beat just hearing him.
"I'm Jeffrey Kraus. I'm with the public defender's office," Kraus said, stepping further into the room. "I'm your lawyer." He said, shuffling his feet.
"Oh. Thank god. I'm saved." Dean's response came, deadpan. I smiled to myself at Dean's comment, and stepped around the corner coming into the room. Jeffrey had taken a seat at the table. Dean's eyes widened a little when he saw me, and then he relaxed a little with a smile.
"Who are you?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Beth Andrews," I said, extending my hand as I walked up to him, leaning against the table. He took my hand and looked up at me, squeezing my hand a little longer than he should have. I grimaced at the cuff holding him to the table and mentally kicked myself for not bringing a paper-clip. My eyes asked him silently if he was ok, and he nodded slightly. "I'm also your lawyer," I said to him out loud and he grinned.
"My prayers have been answered," he said with a wink. I stepped away and sat on the chair between Dean and Kraus, crossing my legs. Dean took a moment to admire the fact that I was in a skirt, and shook his head appreciatively.
"Mr. Winchester," Kraus said, clearing his throat drawing Dean's gaze to him, "we need to discuss the charges..."
"Hey, could I, uh, steal a pen from you? Some paper?" Dean interrupted, and Kraus looked at him confused.
"Uh, sure," he said, nodding. He opened in his briefcase and handed Dean a pen and piece of paper, Dean started scribbling, I leaned forward to try and see what he was writing, while Kraus continued.
"Uh, well, the police haven't found a weapon yet. So that's good. But, uh, they got your prints. And literally blood on your hands. And with your police record, uh..." Kraus faltered, realising that Dean was completely ignoring him.
"Mr. Winchester? What are you doing?" Kraus asked, confused.
Dean paused, still looking at his scribblings, then he glanced up at me catching my eye. "I think it's an anagram," and I nodded slightly.
"A what?" Kraus asked, leaning forward a little.
"An anagram," Dean said, now looking over at him. He spun the pad toward both me and Kraus. "Uh, do me a favour? See if you recognise any of these words, you know, local names, places, anything like that?"
Kraus frowned. "Do you understand how serious these charges are?" He asked.
"I'm handcuffed to a table." Dean said with a slight smile and gesture to the cuffs. "Yeah, I get it. Humour me." Kraus threw me a look and I shrugged, leaning forward to look at the pad.
We looked at the pad, but I couldn't make sense of any of the different anagrams Dean had come up with.
"Well, S-U-P, I don't know about that, but Ashland is a street name. Not far from here." Kraus said.
"A street," Dean asked, throwing a look at me. He started to tear a piece of paper off the bottom of the pad and began writing again.
Kraus nodded, and then looked at his papers again. "Let's start with where you were the night Anthony Giles died."
"Can you get in to see my brother?" Dean asked, ignoring him. Kraus took a deep breath and frowned.
"Mr. Winchester, you could be facing the death penalty here," he said with concern.
Dean looked up at him, unconcerned. "Hey thanks for the law review, Matlock. But. If you want to help me..." he held up the note, looking at Kraus. "I need you to see my brother."
I sat forward, nodding and taking the note. "I'm sure that can be arranged, couldn't it Jeffrey?" I asked, looking at Kraus. He was frowning at Dean, then at me, but he didn't disagree.
Dean turned to me and then suddenly grinned. "What the heck," he muttered, reaching out with his free hand to grab me behind my neck, pulling me to him for a deep, sensual kiss. I nearly groaned, but then remembered my cover, pushing him away from me.
"Mr. Winchester!" I exclaimed, trying my hardest to look shocked. "That... is... completely inappropriate!" I said, licking my lips and standing up. Kraus was voicing his complaints, standing next to me.
"Well, hey, I could be going away for a long time... pretty girl like you... not going to come across them for a while," Dean quipped and I shook my head. I looked down at the folded note in my hand and Dean's eyes turned serious.
"My brother?" He said, nodding at Kraus. The lawyer was flabbergasted at his client. He ushered me out the door and I threw a glance back at Dean, still cuffed to the table as the door closed, I hated to leave him there, but right now there was no other choice.
The detectives were with Sam when we asked about seeing him. There was some question as to whether we could go in with him or not, but something to do with him not being formally charged, and not having requested a lawyer, meant that we couldn't demand entry.
We were allowed to watch from the observation window however, I saw to that.
A detective by the name of Ballard had entered the room and placed a cup of coffee in front of Sam.
"Thought you might be thirsty," she said. Sam smirked.
"OK, so you're the good cop." Sam said, looking at the coffee. He spread his arms out in a questioning stance. "Where's the bad cop?" Sam asked.
"Oh, he's with your brother," Ballard lied, they'd already questioned Dean – but Sam didn't know that.
"OK. And you're holding us why?" Sam asked.
"Well, he's being held on suspicion of murder. And you, we'll see," Ballard said, watching him carefully. Sam leaned forward on the table, looking shocked.
"Murder?!" He said, surprised.
"You sound genuinely surprised. Or are you that good of an actor?" Ballard asked.
"Who was he supposed to have murdered?!" Sam asked, frowning.
"We'll get around to that," she said.
Sam started to stand straight again. "Well you can't just hold us here without formal charges!" He said.
"Well actually, we can, for forty eight hours, but you being a pre-law student, would know that. I know all about you, Sam," she countered. I bit my lip, she was right.
Ballard picked up a file and read from it. "You're twenty three years old, no job, no home address. Your mother died when you were a baby, your father's whereabouts are currently unknown. And then there's the case of your brother Dean. Whose demise was, well, just a little bit exaggerated. Feel free to jump in whenever you like." She paused to appraise Sam, who was standing still, fighting his emotions. He went and leaned against the wall, folding his arms.
"Shy?" Ballard asked, looking at Sam who didn't respond. "No problem. I'll keep going. Your family moved around a lot when you were a kid. Despite that, you were a straight-A student. Got into Stanford with a full ride." She closed the file. "Then about a year ago there was a fire in your apartment. One fatality. Jessica Moore, your girlfriend. After she died, you fell off the grid. Left behind everything."
Sam was barely containing his fury. "I needed some time off. To deal. So I'm taking a road trip with my brother." He'd gotten himself under control, the calmness returning to his eyes. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
"How's that going for you?" Ballard asked, leaning on the table across from him.
Sam smirked and pulled up a chair, straddling it and leaning on the back. "Great. I mean... we saw the second largest ball of twine in the continental US. Awesome."
Ballard approached him from the side. "We ran Dean's fingerprints through AFIS," she said.
Sam nodded. "OK."
"Got over a dozen possible hits," she said, leaning on the table.
"Possible hits," Sam smirked. "Which makes them worthless."
"But it makes you wonder. What are we gonna find when we run your prints?" She asked.
"Yeah, well," Sam said with a half-laugh, pounding his fist on the table. "You be sure to let me know, all right?" He pointed at the cup of coffee. "May I?"
"Please," she said, nodding. Sam picked up the cup and took a sip while Ballard leaned over him intently.
"Sam, you seem like a good kid. It's not your fault Dean's your brother. We can't pick our family. Right now detectives in St. Louis are exhuming a corpse. They're trying to figure out how your brother faked his own death. After torturing all those young women. Dean's a bad guy. His life is over. Yours doesn't have to be," she said. I found myself thinking about what a terrible place Sam and I would be in without a brother like Dean...maybe someone wouldn't pick him on the surface, to be family, but they'd be an idiot not, there was no one loyal, no one more protective. I had to get him out of here, my own protectiveness was in overdrive.
Sam looked at her incredulously.
"You want me to turn on my own brother?" He asked.
"No. We already caught him cold. Red-handed at the Karen Giles murder scene. We just need you to fill in some missing pieces." Ballard said.
"Why would I do that?" Sam asked.
"Because I can talk to the DA. Make a deal for you. You can get on with your life. Dean's as good as gone." Ballard said, sitting down. Sam looked distressed, then started to talk quietly.
"My dad and Tony Giles were old friends. They were in the service together. We've known him since we were kids, you know? So we came as soon as we heard about his death." I watched quietly, listening to our cover story, the one we'd all agreed on if anything went wrong. How I hadn't thought we'd need to be using it this time yesterday. Now I was grateful that John had taught us to be thorough with our investigations. I listened as Sam told her about how he and Dean had gone to visit Karen and then left her.
"So I gave Karen a hug, told her to call me if she needed anything," Sam said, finishing up. "And that was it. End of story."
"Sam, I am trying to help you here. But you have got to be honest with me. Now we have an eyewitness. Someone who saw two men fitting your and your brother's description, along with a girl, breaking into Giles' office." Ballard said. I swallowed hard, we'd been sloppy, not good.
Sam stared at her.
"Who's the girl?" Ballard asked. "Obviously, she wasn't with you when we picked you up."
"Obviously she wasn't with Dean either," Sam said with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh I'm sure she'll turn up." Ballard said confidently. "Some of the reports I've got here state that there is a woman often seen with Dean, never far away. There's also a mention of a girl you schooled with... a sister?"
Sam stared at her impassively. She was reaching, and it was obvious. "I don't have a sister," Sam said.
"No, not according to the records, but then, these things can sometimes be inaccurate... illegitimate children have a way of cropping up off record." Ballard said. "Or maybe she's not a sister, after all, she's always seen with Dean but no one has been able to identify her... maybe she's connected to him in some way?" They wouldn't find anything on me, I was a teen when I died, disappeared off the planet according to the records.
"You sure she exists?" Sam asked with a smirk.
"You tell me." Ballard said.
"Look, I don't know who your witness is, but obviously they don't recognise Tony's own wife, because that's who was with us." Sam said without missing a beat. "She called us, said the police weren't letting her in and she wanted some stuff from his office. Like a picture of the two of them in Paris, and a few other things. Look, it was wrong to enter a crime scene, but she had a key, showed us in herself. Then Dean took her home after we'd picked up the things she wanted."
Ballard didn't look convinced.
"So why didn't you go with them?" Ballard asked.
"I just went back to the motel." He paused, looking at her. "How'd you know I was there, by the way?"
"We found the motel match book on your brother when we arrested him. Let's quit fooling around. Now you were with your brother the whole time you were in Baltimore. Why separate now? Because your brother left you. To murder Karen." Ballard said. I shook my head at their outlandish ideas.
"He didn't kill anyone," Sam said.
"I heard the 911 call! Karen was terrified! She said someone was in the house." I frowned, this was news to me, of course, she'd already been dead by the time Dean and I arrived, maybe she'd been able to call the police before she was attacked, it would explain why they had arrived almost as soon as we had.
Sam fell silent and Detective Ballard got up and left with a sigh.
"Jeffrey, I think it's high time we had some time with our client don't you?" I said, loud enough for the officer with us to overhear.
Kraus nodded emphatically, "Yes, yes, it is. Highly irregular this is. I'm afraid," he said, stepping up to Ballard as she rounded the corner, "I'm going to have to insist that we are allowed to speak with our client now." She looked from Kraus to me, and then sighed.
"He's all yours," she said with a wave of her hand before walking away.
Sam's eyes also widened when he saw me, and then he sat back with an amused smile on his face.
"Mr. Winchester, we've just been in with your brother," I said, and Sam nodded passively at me.
"He had this note for you," Kraus said, handing Sam the note that he'd taken off me as soon as we'd left Dean's interview room.
Sam glanced at the note, and then at me. I'd read it already, it said:
HILTS -
IT'S A STREET
ASHLAND.
-MCQUEEN
It was code, and a message to us that we had were to escape and figure out what was going on while he delayed the police.
"I hope that's meaningful. But I'd like to discuss your case now." Kraus said to Sam.
Sam gestured to a chair. "Sure thing, Matlock," he said with a smirk.
"You two really are brothers, aren't you?" Kraus said in response to the comment. "Now. As you know, the DA might be interested in..."
There was a knock at the door, followed by Ballard coming back into the room. She looked at Kraus.
"We need you. With the other one," she said. I feigned surprise, but I had been expecting it, Dean would need to come up with some kind of a rouse to get everyone clear of Sam's interview room.
I went back into the room with Kraus, noting with interest that there was a bit of a crowd gathering at the observation window. There was a technician setting up a camera in front of Dean who was slumped in his chair, still cuffed, and looking quiet and reserved. His eyes met mine briefly as I entered the room, a little bit of a twinkle behind them, I refrained from smiling, wondering where he was going with all this.
A Detective Sheridan was in the room with us now, the same detective that Kraus had been talking with earlier.
"Counsellor? Your boy decided to confess," he said, looking at Kraus, and then me, with interest.
"Mr Winchester? I'd advise against that strongly." Kraus said leaning in to Dean. His advice was ignored as Dean leaned forward with a smirk.
"Talk directly into the camera, first stating you name for the record," Sheridan directed him, it seemed to me that he was pretty eager to get this on camera, almost too eager.
Dean grinned at me and pursed his lips in a kiss. "How you doing hot stuff?" He asked, and I rolled my eyes feigning shock at his behaviour. He turned to face the camera.
"My name is Dean Winchester." He said into the camera, and then smiled. "I'm an Aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women." He glanced at me when he said that, and I looked down, hiding my amusement. "And I did not kill anyone. But I know who did. Or rather what did. Of course it can't be for sure, because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory was that we're looking for some kind of vengeful spirit."
"Excuse me?" Ballard asked, incredulous. I had to keep from laughing.
"You know, Casper the bloodthirsty ghost?" Dean asked in all sincerity.
"Tony Giles saw it. I'll bet you cash money Karen did too. But see, the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason it's trying to tell us something. But communicating across the vale, it ain't easy. You know, sometimes the spirits, they, they get things jumbled. You remember "REDRUM". Same concept. You know, it's, uh, maybe word fragments... other times, it's anagrams." He looked around, pulling his notes from earlier out of his pocket, holding the anagrams up to the camera.
"See, at first we thought this was a name, Dana Shulps. But now we think it's a street. Ashland. Whatever's going on, I'll bet you it started there." He spread his hands and smiled.
Sheridan looked furious. "You arrogant bastard. Tony and Karen were good people, and you're making jokes!"
"I'm not joking, Ponch," Dean said, looking at him with his serious gaze.
"You murdered them in cold blood just like that girl in St. Louis." Sheridan accused, moving up close to Dean.
"Oh, yeah. That wasn't me either." Dean said into the camera with a smile. "That was a shape-shifter creature that only looked like me." He glanced over at me when he said this and I repressed a shudder. That had been a horrid, horrid creature and I still got nightmares over it.
Sheridan lost his temper, hauling Dean up by his collar and slamming his against the wall.
"Pete, that is enough!" Ballard said and I found myself moving toward Dean instinctively.
"Detective, I have to warn you against assaulting our client," I said to Sheridan and he looked over at me, as if seeing me for the first time.
"You asked for the truth," Dean smirked at Sheridan.
Sheridan turned back to look at Dean, fury in his eyes. "Lock his ass up," he said. Another policeman took over, shoving Dean face first against the wall, handcuffing him. Dean rolled his eyes at me as this happened and I sighed, shaking my head. What on earth were we into here?
For the second time that day I saw Dean hauled away and I paused. Kraus was looking confused at what had just happened. I made my excuses, saying I needed to use the bathroom, and I slipped outside. Sam would be long gone, and it was time to meet up with him and get to the bottom of what was going on here. I retrieved my duffel bag from the bushes where I'd left it and headed for the street, hailing a cab. I sure hoped Dean knew what he was doing in there.
Aardvark Motel
I looked up the first motel listed in the yellow pages, it was The Aardvark Motel, jumping back in the cab, I instructed him to drop me off there. At the desk I found there was already a booking for Jim Rockford. Sam had made it here before me. I got the room number and headed over. Sam opened the door as soon as I knocked.
"Hey," he said with a smile, letting me in. "You took your time."
I walked in, shrugging out of my jacket with a sigh and kicking off my shoes.
"Yeah, I was busy listening to Dean give a heart felt confession to liking long walks on the beach and frisky women," I said with a raised eyebrow. Sam laughed.
"Is he ok?" Sam asked.
I nodded. "For now, although that Detective Sheridan has a hard-on for pinning this whole thing on him, he practically assaulted Dean in the interview." Sam grimaced.
"We have to get to the bottom of this and quick, before things escalate, I don't like that he's in there," I told Sam, and he nodded, quick to agree.
I groaned, the night's events starting to get to me, I was sore and tired.
"I'm going to grab a shower, what are you working on?" I asked Sam.
He looked over at the files he had spread across the table. "I'm trying to find out if there's a connection to Ashland Street and any missing or murdered girls with slashed throats." I nodded, walking toward the bathroom.
"I'll give you a hand when I'm out," I said, and closed the door behind me, getting undressed as I ran the hot water, I was going to enjoy this shower.
Fifteen minutes later I was starting to feel human again. I got out, dried off, tying the towel around my torso and putting my hair up in another towel. I opened the door to the main motel room and found myself looking directly at Detective Ballard.
She looked shocked when she recognised me, and then her eyes narrowed.
"You sure have a very... close...relationship with your clients, Ms Andrews." Ballard said slowly.
I smirked. "I think we kind of know I'm not a lawyer now, don't we?" I asked, and Sam smiled, watching us both.
"You're the girl? The one I was looking for?" I nodded slowly and went to my duffel and pulled out some underwear, jeans and a t-shirt. With a glance over at Sam, I grinned and dropped the towel. He was already looking away, shaking his head, expecting the move.
I pulled on my undies and bra, and then stepped into my jeans, all the while Ballard stared at me. Finally I shrugged into one of Dean's t-shirts, it was baggy on me but I didn't care, it smelled like him, and that's all that I wanted right now. When I was dressed, I turned my attention to my hair, rubbing it with the towel on my head, drying it off.
"Why are you here? Clearly Dean sent you," I said, looking at Ballard. She frowned and then held out her wrists. They had bruises around them, I frowned, recognising them from Karen's dead body.
"You've seen the spirit?" I asked, and she nodded. "These showed up after you saw it?"
Again, she nodded. "Yeah, I guess," she said. Sam stood up and came over to look at the wrists.
"All right. You're going to have to tell us exactly what you saw," he said to her.
Ballard sighed. "You know, I must be losing my mind. You're a fugitive," she said looking at Sam, then glancing at me. "I don't know who you are, but I think I should be arresting you both."
"All right. Well, you know what? You can arrest us later, all right? After you live through this." I said to her, brushing my hair back into a ponytail. "But right now you've got to talk to us, OK?" She nodded silently to me.
"OK, great," Sam said smiling. "Now, this spirit. What did it look like?"
Ballard stopped, thinking. "She was, um, really pale, and her throat was cut. Her eyes, they were like, this deep dark red? It appeared like she was trying to talk to me. But she couldn't. It was just...a lot of blood." She was shaking her head, and she sat down on the end of the bed, looking at Sam.
Sam looked at me and I shrugged. "You know what?" Sam said, "Here. I've been researching every girl that's ever died or gone missing from Ashland Street." He went over to the table, gathering up a stack of crime scene photos.
Ballard frowned, following him to the table and looking at the photos. "How did you get those? Those are from crime scenes, and booking photos."
Sam shrugged. "You have your job, I have mine. Here. I need you to look through these, tell me if you recognise anyone."
Ballard sat down on a chair and flipped through the stack. When she came to the third photo of a woman, she stopped.
"This is her. I'm sure of it," Ballard said, looking up at us.
I looked down at the photo and read the booking slate. "Claire Becker?" I asked Sam. He nodded and went to more of his research.
"Twenty-eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago," Sam confirmed.
"But I don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?" Ballard asked, looking at us both.
"Well, before her death, she was arrested twice," Sam said, reading the paperwork. "For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?"
"Yeah, Pete and I did. Before homicide," she answered.
"Did you ever bust her?" I asked, starting to pace the room, thinking.
"Not that I remember," Ballard said.
"It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn't find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body." Sam said.
"What?" Ballard asked, surprised.
"Well, we have to salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest." I answered her, stopping my pacing and standing with my arms crossed.
"Of course it is," Ballard said with a sigh, looking like she couldn't believe the world she suddenly found herself in.
2911 Ashland Street
We were standing outside a dark and creepy looking warehouse. Sam led the way to a door way and let us in.
"So what exactly are we looking for?" Ballard asked, glancing around the area we were in.
"I'll let you know when we find it," I said vaguely, shining my flashlight around. Sam separated, heading up a flight of stairs. Ballard went one way on the ground floor, and I went another. It was dark and slow going, and I really didn't like the idea of running into a ghost, I patted the handgun loaded with rock salt ammo and wedged into my waist band under Dean's t-shirt to reassure myself that I was covered in case I did.
Suddenly Ballard called out for us, and I doubled back, coming to her quickly. Sam was running down the stairs, meeting me as we came to Ballard.
"What is it?" I asked, looking around.
"Claire..." Ballard said, pointing at a window.
"Where?" Sam asked, spinning around to check our perimeter.
"She, she was here," Ballard said.
"Did she attack you?" I asked, glancing at Sam and rested my hand against the gun at my back.
"No. No, she was just like, reaching out to me. She was over there by the window." Ballard said, again pointing ahead of us. The window was blocked by a shelving unit. She led us across the room.
"Hey wait, help me move this," Ballard said, looking at Sam. He moved and gave the shelves a good shove, they squealed in protest as they dragged across the floor. A window was revealed behind it, an orange light from the setting sun washing through to us. They read ASHLAND SUP... the rest of the word, supplies, was faded and worn.
"Our little mystery word," Ballard said, looking back at us. The words in the window cast a clear reflection against the wall behind us.
"Well that explains the extra letters," I said, looking at Sam who nodded.
Sam pulled out an EMF reader and went over to the wall where the writing was reflected.
"What is that?" Ballard asked, following along.
"Spirit and certain remains give off electromagnetic frequencies," Sam explained holding the EMF reader out in front of him.
"So if Claire's body was here, that would indicate that?" Ballard asked.
I looked at her. "Yeah. Well that's the theory," I said. Sam had reached the wall and was holding the EMF close to it. The EMF started to spike, static causing a whirring sound, there was something there. I looked around, finding a sledgehammer and grabbed it. He nodded and took it from me, handing me the EMF reader.
With a few swings, Sam had broken through the brick wall, knocking out a sizeable hole. He took his flash-light and poked it inside, looking at where the light was shining.
He pulled back, nodding at me. "Yeah. Yeah there's definitely something in there." I took the sledgehammer and started to knock at the bricks around the opening while Sam pulled at them, making a bigger hole.
"You know, this is bothering me," Sam said, looking over at me. I paused, sending him a questioning look.
"Well you are digging up a corpse," Ballard pointed out, and we both turned to look at her.
"No, not that," Sam said. "That's, uh, that's pretty par for the course, actually." He said with a chuckle.
"Then what?" Ballard asked, as I took another swing at the wall.
"It's just, I mean, no vengeful spirit I've ever tussled with wanted to be wasted, so why the hell would Claire lead us to her remains? It doesn't make any sense." Sam said and I thought about this, nodding. We'd broken open most of the wall. He looked at me and grimaced.
"All right, here. Give me a hand," he said and I nodded. There was a black sack inside the wall and Sam pulled on it. I gripped it and helped lift it out of the hole in the wall. It was definitely a body.
Sam pulled out his pocket knife and cut the ropes holding the shroud together, uncovering Claire Becker's body. The corpse was leathery and decayed, she had obviously been dead for some time. It still had long blonde hair attached to the head, and it's hands were bound in front of her chest. Ballard held out her bruised wrists, looking at them and then the ropes.
"Her wrists." Sam said, nodding. "Yeah, they'd be bruised just like yours."
Ballard reached forward and touched a necklace around the body's neck. I frowned, curious.
"Does that necklace mean something to you?" I asked, she looked up at me.
"I've seen it before." She answered, dropping it back on the body. Sam picked it up to get a closer look. It's rare." Ballard declared. "It was custom made over on Carson Street."
She reached up to her neck and pulled out a pendant that had been under her shirt. "I have one just like it," she said, frowning. "Pete gave it to me."
"Now this all makes perfect sense," Sam said, glancing up at me.
"I'm sorry?" Ballard asked, looking at him.
"Yeah. You see, Claire is not a vengeful spirit, she's a death omen." I said, walking around the body.
"Excuse me?" Ballard asked, standing up.
"Claire's not killing anyone," I said. "She's trying to warn them. You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killed is."
Sam nodded standing up and looking at Ballard. "Detective, how much do you know about your partner?" He asked.
Ballard paused to think, her mouth hanging open just a little. "Oh my god," she said quietly, looking shocked.
"What?" I prompted, not liking the sound of those three little words.
"About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lock-up. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product." Ballard said.
"Someone like a heroin dealer. Somebody like Claire," Sam said and Ballard nodded.
Ballard's Car
Ballard was on her cellphone to the police precinct as she drove. Sam was in the front with her, I had taken the back seat. I really just wanted Dean out of that cell, now, I wasn't enjoying being separated at all.
"All right. Thanks." Ballard said into the phone, hanging up.
"What is it?" Sam asked, looking over at her.
Ballard looked grim. "Pete just left the precinct. With Dean," she said. I looked up at that.
"What?!" I said, leaning forward, looking at Sam with a worried glance.
"He said the prisoner had to be transferred, and he just took him. Dispatch has been calling but he won't answer the radio," Ballard said.
"Radio? He took a county vehicle?" Sam asked and I shook my head and chuckled.
"Yeah," Ballard confirmed.
"Well then they should have a lo-jack," I said. "You've just got to turn it on."
Within minutes the lo-jack had been activated and Ballard floored the car toward it's location, they weren't far ahead of us, Pete hadn't really left the area. We were driving down a deserted back road outside of town. When we got closer, we exited the vehicle and crept into the woods surrounding us.
My eyes adjusted to the dark and I saw a van ahead of us in a clearing. Sheridan had Dean on the ground, a gun pointed at him.
"Wait! Wait. Let's, let's talk about this. I mean, you don't want to do something that you're gonna regret." I heard Dean say, Sheridan cocked his gun and Dean looked a little panicked. "Or maybe you do."
"Pete!" Ballard called out, stepping out of the trees with her own gun raised. "Put the gun down." Pete spun and pointed the gun at her. Sam was standing nearby with his hands raised in the air, I had chosen not to reveal myself, not yet.
"Diana? How'd you find me?" He asked, turning his gun back to point at Dean.
"I know about Claire." Ballard said, still pointing the gun at him. Sheridan glanced at her, unsure of what she'd just said. He decided to play it cool.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Sheridan said.
"Put the gun down!" Ballard ordered him. He smirked.
"Oh, I don't think so. You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster." Sheridan said, looking down at Dean. I swallowed hard, thinking about my options.
"Why are you doing this?" Ballard asked, a hurt look coming into her eyes.
"I didn't do anything, Diana," Sheridan said, denying his actions.
"It's a little late for that," Ballard said.
Sheridan shook his head at her. "It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice."
"And Tony? Karen?" Ballard asked.
"Same thing!" Sheridan said angrily. "Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything."
Dean glanced at Sam, who was looking about for me, but not seeing me as I inched my way along the treeline closer to Sheridan. Dean shook his head at Sam, and our younger brother grit his teeth.
"It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked," Sheridan said, his voice starting to break as he confessed his actions.
"How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?" Ballard asked.
"There's a way out." Sheridan said, his eyes begging Ballard to join him. "This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just, just tone more dead scumbag."
"Hey!" Dean protested at that name, he took particular offense to names like scumbag. Sheridan raised his gun a Dean again, starting to look serious.
"No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you," he said to her, and she lowered her gun, giving in. I frowned and pulled the gun from the small of my back, I reached into my pocket for the regular ammo I'd shoved in my jeans while loading the gun with rock salt earlier, and I fumbled to get the gun open to put the real ammo back in it now.
"Thank you. Thank you." Sheridan said, turning back to Dean. I looked up, starting to panic, when I heard another gunshot. Ballard had fired her weapon, hitting Sheridan in the stomach. He fell to the ground and Dean rolled out of the way, hands still cuffed in front of him.
Sheridan rolled on the ground, grunting from the wound. Ballard walked up to him and glared. "Then why don't you buy me another necklace, you ass?" She said. He growled and tackled her legs, forcing her to the ground with a yell, the gun flew from her hands and Sam tried to move for it but Sheridan got there first.
"Don't do it! Don't do it!" Sheridan said to Sam, who stopped short, hands in the air. Sheridan struggled to his feet and turned the gun back on Dean who was still on the ground nearby, hands in the air. Sheridan seemed to change his mind and swung the gun back around to Ballard.
Ballard was staring at something behind him, and he panicked, spinning around to see what it was. Instantly I acted, clicking the regular ammo into my gun and stepping out into the clearing. I didn't hesitate and I fired at him, aiming between his shoulders in the back. He went down, and I knew deep down, he wasn't getting back up.
Dean looked up at me shocked and struggled to his feet. Ballard was looking at me, out of breath and I nodded at her, dropping the gun to my side before clicking on the safety and tucking it back into my waistband. I looked over at Dean and felt all kinds of emotions wash over me. I stepped up and grabbed him in a hug, kissing him softly.
"Are you ok?" I asked, looking him over. He nodded. I used a pick to open his cuffs, much to the surprise of Ballard who was watched us, getting to her feet.
"Well, you're just full of surprises," she commented and I smiled as Dean wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.
Sam came up to Ballard, smiling over at us. "Are you doing all right?" He asked her and she looked back at her partner, dead on the ground.
"Not really. The death omen, Claire. What happens to her now?" Ballard asked.
"Should be over. She should be at rest." Sam said, and she nodded.
Dean cleared his throat, still holding me, I had my arms wrapped around him tight, my head resting on his chest.
"So, uh. What now, officer?" He asked, looking over at her.
"Pete did confess to me," Ballard said, all business again, her face not showing any trace of grief over the loss of her ex-lover. "He screwed up both your cases royally. I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed."
We looked at her, and Sam smiled.
"You'd take care of that for us?" Sam asked.
She nodded. "I hope so. But the St. Louis charges? That's another story." I looked at Dean, worried. "I can't help you," Ballard continued. "Unless...I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped."
I smiled, but Sam looked concerned. "Wait, are you sure?"
"Yeah, she's sure Sam," Dean said, nodding. It wasn't Sam's ass on the line with the St. Louis charges.
"No, it's just, I mean, you could lose your job over something like that." Sam said. Dean shook his head, amused at Sam's concern.
Ballard looked at all three of us and took a breath. "Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night."
She turned to go, and then looked back at us. "Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for both of you boys right now. Get out of here. I gotta radio this in."
"Hey, uh... you wouldn't happen to know where my car is, by chance?" Dean asked, and I looked up at him shaking my head. Some things never changed.
"It's at the impound yard down on Robertson." Ballard said. Dean got a calculating look in his eyes and I rolled my eyes. Ballard took this in.
"Don't...even...think about it," she said to us.
"It's ok, it's all right, don't worry. We'll uh, we'll just improvise." Sam said quickly and I grinned.
"We're pretty good at that," I said, looking at her.
"Yeah, I've noticed." Ballard said with a smirk.
I looked at Dean, and he grabbed my hand pulling me along down the road with him, sliding up next to me.
"Kind of hard to christen a backseat, without the car... we're gonna have to improvise our way into that impound lot..." he said with a grin and I chuckled.
Sam was walking beside us and shook his head, rolling his eyes, having only caught the last part of that conversation. It looked like we had one more job to do before leaving Baltimore, and the sooner it was done, the faster we could get back to our lives, even if Dean and Sam had just made one of the most wanted lists. We'd just have to face it like we did everything else, one day at a time, together.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Song for this chapter: Long Day by Matchbox 20
It doesn't quite fit, so if anyone has any better suggestions, I'm all ears :)
Gah, it's good to be back! I've missed writing these guys while I've been away – it was a long long weekend with not nearly enough alcohol or internet access to get me through (haha) And a four-hour drive home turned into a 6-hour ride from hell with a neurotic mother and whining baby who managed to slice open his finger on lord knows what just 45 minutes from home (really must get a first aid kit to carry with me) and then get home to more drama with the ex! Fun times :D It's been good to disappear into SPN for the last few hours and write this. Hope you enjoyed it!
Next up: Demons at the crossroads!
Thanks to everyone who PM'ed or reviewed over the weekend – loved getting your messages and reading them. They got me through the family holiday LOL (My mum thinks I've got some new fella in my life because I kept sneaking off to access and read stories and reviews – which always puts a smile on my face)
I did manage to get a couple of stories updated / edited from Highway to Hell I've noted the updates in the chapter titles, some have a few small changes, but mostly it's just formatting, spelling, grammar, and fixing some continuity issues.
OK. Better get to bed, stayed up late to get this out, and have first day of work in 7 hours LOL See you on the flip side!
Oh and welcome to all the new readers :D Great to have you here, please let me know what you think of the story so far!