AN: Thank you to everyone who's being so patient as this story creeps along! This chapter didn't go where it was supposed to, but it amused me so you're stuck with it.
Janice is heading off to vacation and still took the time to beta this for me. Thanks, Janice! Have fun!
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The night wasn't as bad as it could have been. Even when they expected to have a hotel bed to sleep in, Sam and Dean now brought lots of extra linens along. Not because they were old but because they were smart. And had a whole bunker in which to store the things they weren't using. And unexpected changes to their plans were not all that unexpected.
Also, the temperature was quite pleasant. No mice joined Dean in his sleeping bag, and Sam seemed to be sleeping well...until Dean woke him for concussion checks.
"Wake up, happy camper!" Dean announced the second time his watch alarm went off.
"Go 'way Dean. I don't have a concussion."
Dean tutted. If he had to be awake, at least he could mess with his brother. "You know the drill, little brother."
"Fine. Sam Winchester. May second. Barack Obama. And none of your business."
Dean's eyebrows went up. Maybe they'd done this a few too many times. Dean liked to ask Sam's name, then birthday, then the current president, then something stupid or embarrassing. "Correct for all my questions, which were, in order: who loves watching Hallmark Christmas movies, when are the library books due, who's your secret crush, and why are there little blue pills in the bottom of your duffel bag."
Sam groaned a few choice curses then lifted his head. More clearly than before, he said, "If you wake me up again before 6 am, I'm gonna tell all the lunch ladies at the castle that you hate pie so don't offer you any because you'll feel bad and eat it anyway."
Specific and effective. Nice.
"Fine. But if your marbles aren't in order in the morning, your ass is staying right here while I talk to the cops and go back to the castle alone."
"Deal," Sam answered immediately. He slurred something uncomplimentary, sighed deeply, and went back to sleep.
Luckily, Dean followed suit quickly.
All too soon, it was morning and every bird and squirrel in a three mile radius decided to converge outside the schoolhouse and have a rave. Or that's what it sounded like to Dean. Hearing Sam moving around, he rolled over and watched Sam get their camping stove going. They'd measured out the coffee the night before and it was prepped and started in the time it took Dean to recognize what was happening. "Granola bar?" Sam asked over his shoulder.
Dean was tempted to pull up his nose but grabbed one, eating it as he limped outside to drain the lizard and maybe take a potshot at one of the critters making so much noise. They weren't heading directly to the castle, meaning he was going to miss the breakfast spread. And shit, his leg was sore.
He was watering the trees and zoning out when his Hunter's instincts picked up on something. "Dammit," he grumbled. He went back inside and accepted the coffee Sam was holding out. "Hey, we need to – whoa. Nice shiner." It was the first he'd seen Sam's face. In addition to some pretty decent bruising around the outside of his right eye going up into his eyebrow, Sam also had a nice purple shading under his jaw. Dean already knew about the state of his knuckles. His own were similarly bruised and bloody, and he could feel the scratches (what kind of asshole scratches in a fistfight, anyway?) down his neck that Sam had insisted he clean last night. All-in-all they looked like they'd been in quite a fracas. It didn't really fit the wedding planner aesthetic.
"Yeah, I figured," Sam answered. "You look like you had a wild fun night. I look like –"
"Like Stone Cold Steve Austin caught you sleeping with his wife?"
Sam laughed and nearly snorted coffee out of his nose, which Dean counted as a win. "Something like that. If nothing else, it oughta help sell the story to the cops. Hey, we've got some MRE's if you're hungry."
"I'm not that hungry." Dean didn't actually mind the food so much, just the memories of times when they were all they had available. "I'll wait to see what Lunch Lady Linda has for us. So, uh, when you go out to peel some bark, take a look at that cemetery."
Sam gave him a weird look but got up to go out. Dean watched him for signs of dizziness or weakness, but he seemed pretty good. Chalk one up for the Winchester healing genes.
When Sam came back in, his face showed that he'd noticed the same thing Dean had. In daylight, you could see all the stupid little forest creatures doing all their stupid little forest creature things but not a single bird or bug or anything breached the rickety iron fence around the haphazard scattering of old tombstones. Sam rubbed the back of his head and tried (and failed) to cover his wince. "I still think we should do what we planned today. If I can get a chance to see the castle library, they might have some stuff on family history that we won't find anywhere else. At least they should have some kind of genealogy and some list of who's buried there."
"And if not, we're more likely to find out who's not-so-peacefully resting during the night," Dean concluded. For whatever reason, ghosts of all kinds were far more active and powerful after dark. "Too bad we didn't bring the big thingie of salt. We could cover the whole thing and do a consecration and call it good."
(The Men of Letters had an entire closet full of salt stored in metal barrels that resembled kegs. Seriously, they had salt from every sea Dean had heard of and many he hadn't, Himalayan Pink Salt, Hawaiian Black Salt, Sel Gris, Martian Salt – which Sam claimed wasn't from Mars, sadly – blessed salt sifted with the ashes of martyrs, you name it. Dean had taste-tested all except the last two, not wanting to risk extra-terrestrial disease or eat dead people, and it all seemed pretty much the same to him, no matter what Rachael Ray said. But anyway, they'd taken to carrying one of the 4-gallon casks with regular old kosher salt on most jobs now.)
Sam poked Dean in the arm, drawing him out of his salt-induced mental soliloquy. "Whatever's going on there won't be what's tearing people apart though, Dean. Looks like the iron fence is intact." In response, a small rock came flying out of the cemetery straight at Sam, who simply watched in fall two feet short of him. "Looks like we don't have any choice but to deal with it, though."
Dean threw the rock back if for no other reason than nobody was allowed to throw rocks at his brother. "You – ghostie! You throw like a wuss!"
"Leave the ghosts alone and let's get going," Sam said sounding all long-suffering as if Dean hadn't been defending him.
"We'll be baaack," Dean warned the cemetery in his best Terminator accent.
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and Dean could tell it wasn't just irritation at his antics or even the completely inadequate amount of coffee they'd had.
"'Sa matter, Sammy?" Dean asked as they got into his Baby, the nickname slipping out by accident as it was wont to do when he was worried. "You hurting? We have aspirin, Tylenol, Ibuprofen, codeine, Singer Specials, and I think a couple shots of morphine. Pick your poison." He listed all the things they had in their medical bag in reverse order of strength.
"No, no, I'm okay," Sam argued. "Just – when I was going to sleep, I was thinking about when we were kids and hid in the school for a week in the summer watching 'Lab Coat Larry' videos and learning how to make bottle rockets and stuff. I remembered something that gave me an idea about this case, but then I fell asleep all the way and I can't remember. It's driving me crazy."
Dean fell to reminiscing as they headed back down the road. "Oh, yeah. That was the best time I ever had in a school. Well, except in the janitor's closet –"
"Dean." It was a groan.
"Oh, and under the bleachers a couple times –"
"Stop, Dean. I didn't want to hear about it then and I don't want to hear about it now."
Dean gave a 'suit yourself' shrug. "Well, it was pretty fun staying there. I learned to dunk a basketball and you figured out their computer system, didn't you?" He thought more, trying to think about what could jog Sam's memory. If he thought something had to do with this case, he was probably right. His mind made connections that 99% of people would miss, but he couldn't always organize them immediately. "Dad got nabbed by a wechuge, and Bobby couldn't get him free until the full moon or something like that."
"We had to sneak away from that guy you called, 'Evil Mr. Rogers,' remember?" Sam asked with a small smile.
"Right! I remember! Shit, I wish I could've seen the guy's face when we went back there." Dean chuckled. Their dad had had a wicked sense of humor on occasion.
"Wait. We went back? I don't remember that." Sam sat up straighter. "When?"
"Couple months later after I told him the whole story. We were headed to our next long-term place – can't remember where – and we'd be passing pretty close anyway. You were sleeping, then suddenly we pull up to that diner where everybody went to gossip – remember? And the waitresses all wore purple? Anyway, Dad told me to stay with you and went in. I guess the place went totally silent so everybody heard him order three meals to go and ask the hostess chick if she'd seen old Ernie. He told her we'd had a family emergency and had to leave in a hurry and was just hoping he could get back some of the rent he'd paid in advance. Man, by the time the food was ready, half the town had all given him a couple bucks. He said they musta felt guilty for assuming the worst." Dean chuckled. "I remember everyone kept looking out the windows at us. You were sleeping on my shoulder. Probably thought you looked utterly adorable for some reason. Not only did Dad come out a few hundred bucks ahead, he made Ernie look like a complete moron and the extra rent showed up at Bobby's a couple weeks later."
Sam laughed. "Oh, that's great! I never knew that. Serves Ernie right."
Dean was a little surprised by the sentiment, but Sam wasn't wrong. They pulled into the parking lot of the cop shop and Dean was tempted to offer Sam the chance to sit in the car and rest but didn't feel like getting punched.
The meeting went really well and Dean silently conceded that it was nice to have the cops on their side to let them know about suspicious activity, help them find the missing waitress, and so forth.
The chief wasn't resentful or suspicious, even when they admitted that they were camping in the woods to really stay off the radar. He suggested that they get checked out at the hospital and offered to have one of his men keep an eye on Penny's place for a couple days. He promised to find the waitress and let them know when he did. Not only did he know who she was, he knew she was dating a guy from Seattle who "looked like a ganster." And he let them use the locker room to grab showers, which Dean appreciated even though being naked in the cop shop made him itchy. At least the room was pretty much deserted...and the water pressure was excellent.
The chief stopped them as they were walking out, Sam getting ready to pull his hair back into that stupid ponytail that made him look annoyingly young. "Agents, just a second," he called. Sam's phone rang and he showed Dean the screen. Charlene.
"I need to take this, but my partner can fill me in," Sam said, heading for the parking lot.
The cop looked after him and shook his head. "I can't believe he's right back at work with all those bruises."
Dean could only laugh. "You have no idea how stubborn he is. Not much can keep him from doing his job. You had something for us, Chief."
"Oh, yes. I'm pretty sure that one of the guys that came after you is in the hospital. Broken arm and lots of signs he was in a fight, though he claims it was a car accident. The three other men who brought him in were treated and released for similar types of injuries before somebody thought to call us." He frowned in apparent frustration. "Anyway, we can make sure he doesn't go anywhere if you want to question him first."
Dean thought about that. "Yeah. That'd be great. We'll swing by Penny's real quick and head over to the hospital then." He nodded to the man and headed out.
Sam was just finishing up his conversation. He started in as soon as he hung up. "Charlene can get us into the castle library if we get there ASAP. We'll have to sneak out after dark, but –"
"Dammit." It was good news but bad timing. "Okay, but walrus face who tried to bash your head in is in the hospital, and we can take first crack at the questioning. Plus, we really have to give Penny a better head's up."
"Drop me at the castle," Sam suggested. "Or I bet Charlene could arrange a ride for me. Then you can do the other stuff and head over later."
Dean thought about it. He didn't like to separate during a case but was much more open to it than he had been for a long time. He almost said how dangerous could a library be but reconsidered. After all, there was plenty in the bunker library that was pretty damn dangerous. And there always was that Hunter's library in Des Moines. He winced.
"Yeah, I guess so." It would be good for Sam to have a quieter day. "I'll bring you out there."
At the same time, Sam said, "I'll ask Charlene for a ride." He dialed the number before Dean could argue more. "Yeah, Charlene. Sorry to call you right back, but do you think somebody could give me a ride to the castle so Dean can stay in town and interrogate some people? Oh, good. That's perfect! Um, maybe they could meet me at Penny's Pizzeria. Thanks."
"Fine." There was a reason Dean had told the chief that Sam was stubborn.
"There are some members of her staff that aren't in yet. It's perfect," Sam stated. "If lunch is good, I promise I'll have Linda set some aside for you." He grinned, which had to hurt his bruised face but Dean couldn't help but smile back.
"Fine," he said again. "But stay in touch. And no checking out those battlements without me. Those look cool as hell." The one feature of the castle that interested him the most was a wall that reached higher than the rest and had the snaggle-toothed appearance of the ramparts on much older and larger castles. ("Those spaces are to give you room to pour boiling oil on the invaders," Dean, who had watched the battle of Helm's Deep more times that anyone should, had explained gleefully and completely unnecessarily when they first saw a picture of Congdon's Castle.)
"No battlements, parapets, balustrades, or crenellations, I swear," Sam said solemnly because he was a big, fat smartass.
Penny whistled when he saw their bruises and his expression grew downright scary when he heard the thugs were gang members. "I hate bullies," he muttered. He nodded when they said they were feds as if not terribly surprised and promised to be careful and watch his own six. Then he cemented his status as Really Awesome Guy by saying they could eat at his place for free as long as they were in the area. "This is a nice town," he said. "Not the kind of place you get jumped in the street."
That was when a mid-90's neon green MG RV8 in pristine condition screeched into the parking lot. "Ooh!" squealed its driver, who was just as distinctive as his car. "I love local color!"
"What is that?" asked Penny, stoically taking in the whole picture.
" That is Sammy's ride," Dean grinned, immensely amused by the dismay on Sam's face. He clapped a hand on Sam's good shoulder and lowered his voice slightly. "And I'm pretty sure he's got a crush going on our boy here."
By now, Bernard had hopped out of his roadster like a bunny on steroids. "Sam! Dean! It's so good to see you again and I'm so glad to give Sam a ride and I have so many ideas. Oh hi, I'm Bernard!" he didn't pause for a breath until he was holding out a hand for Penny to shake. As soon as Penny started shaking it, Bernard got a good look at the brothers. He snatched his hand back and clutched his chest like he was a 2-bit actor dying in a Western. He gasped dramatically. "Oh no! Oh dear! What happened to you – both of you? Who hurt you?"
"We're fine," Sam grumbled slipping into his surly, aloof persona.
"We were jumped by some out of town thugs," Dean explained. "Penny here helped us get the best of them."
Bernard had taken Sam's hand and was trying to examine his knuckles before Sam snatched it back. He looked at Penny with big eyes. "Oh, thank you!" he exclaimed, shaking Penny's hand again, this time with even greater enthusiasm than before.
Penny looked nonplussed so Dean decided to save him and send Sam off. "You two better get going," he said cheerfully. "Need a tire iron to get Sam into the car? You might have to fold, spindle, or mutilate him. Just remember, you break it, you buy it." He was grinning so hard his face hurt and Sam looked ready to spit bullets.
Sam attempted to get in, stopped to move the seat all the way back, and tried again. He finally made it in with Bernard's hovering and useless commentary the entire time. He looked ridiculously pretzeled and completely peeved. Bernard didn't seem to notice, waving cheerily. He drove over the curb as he left, knocking Sam's head into the car roof.
"Have him home by curfew," hollered Dean nearly collapsed in laughter.
"Sorry," he gasped. "But...but...his face!" That set him off again and Penny even gave a chuckle of his own. Finally, Dean regained his equilibrium and wiped his eyes. "Despite all that, we were serious that you should watch your back until we have all these guys in custody," he warned. "I don't think they'll come after you, but gangsters aren't known for being smart or forgiving."
"I will," Penny agreed. "I see Dave's keepin' an eye out too." He nodded toward the police car that had parked down the block. "I know it's your job, but you be careful, too. I knew you guys had served together in some way."
"What do you mean?" Dean asked, curious.
"Well, you kept a watch over one side of the restaurant and he kept watch over the other, like you've done it a million times. And you looked at the door he went outta every minute or so after he took his call." Penny nodded to himself. "You've spent a long time watchin' each other's backs, eh?"
Dean tried to school his face but a small smile slipped out anyhow. "Yeah, we sure have."
Penny waggled a sausage-sized finger at Dean. "He still might kill you in your sleep tonight."
Dean snorted. "Also true."
WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER
Vaughn's pets normally didn't linger over their food, but they didn't often get live meals either. Those who'd been trusted to leave home and complete the task they'd been given fell upon that task with rabid joy, and it was nearly midday by the time they had licked up the last of the blood, leaving only chewed up, mutilated corpses behind. The weapons their prey had carried had not helped them at all and laid around the bodies scattershot and interspersed with broken phones and expensive, blood-splattered shoes.
The beasts were supposed to go right back home, but they'd been promised more than they'd found and their barely-dormant hunting instincts had well and truly awakened. The madness of fresh blood was on them, and they would neither stop nor return until they had made every single kill they'd been promised.
Within the walls of the Congdon Castle grounds, a plaintive howl rose up.
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AN: Oi vey. Salinated tangents, Lab Coat Larry, comeuppance for Evil Mr. Roger, an apparent ghost with a poor throwing arm, a million or so cultural references, and a partridge in a pear tree. I swear the next chapter will should be more normal and have more action.
"Stone Cold" Steve Austin is a retired professional wrestler.
All of those salts are real except the Martian and mixed with the ashes of martyrs. I fell down the salt rabbit hole far longer than I care to admit.
Rachael Ray used to have a cooking show.
Lab Coat Larry is someone I just made up. I pictured a low-rent Bill Nye.
The Battle of Helm's Deep is depicted in the Tolkein novel The Two Towers, the second installment in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. A movie by the same name was released in 2002.
Funny story about why I've heard of an MG RV8. When they were brand new, one rear-ended my 1983 Caprice, which is a brick outhouse of a car that is approximately the same length and weight as Baby and had poured (not stamped) steel bumpers. Needless to say, the MG lost.
Timelady66: I laughed so hard at your little scene with Crowley that I was crying! I can just hear Cas carefully talking about Crowley stealing the bitches and hoes, determined to get it just right. Janice and I laughed over it a long time too! As for the intimidation part, I pictured the guys in the woods after escaping from that super-secret prison and also Sam intimidating a bunch of demons into smoking out. "There will be no new king of Hell." Love both so scenes so much! I'm so glad you liked that chapter. Vaughn is beyond screwed. Oh, and I do write original fics. I just keep them for myself! LOL
Colby's girl: I may have borrowed that interrogation technique from a movie like Lethal Weapon, but I have a bad case of source amnesia. Penny Lane! For whatever reason, that tickled my funny bone! Sorry you got it stuck in your head. But I have been enjoying writing about Penny. He just sort of happened and I liked him so he keeps showing up. (I have very bossy OCs.) Thanks for the lovely review!
muffinroo: Aw, thank you! This story has been an awful lot of fun to write, if only because it keeps surprising me. The wonderful idea of squatting is a school wasn't mine, but again, I've enjoyed it. Isn't Timelady66 hysterical?? I was seriously crying. I could picture it all.
sylvia37: Bit of a stretch with Boudica, huh? LOL. Very true. Barb is more like Tinkerbell, tiny and feisty! (Though she be but little, she is fierce!) So glad to tick the right boxes.
Jenjoremy: I am sorry for the long waits between the chapters lately. If it helps, almost all of my garden is in the ground...though there's still a lot of work to be done. I added to the flashback from the previous chapter, so hopefully you like this part too! Score one for Dad Winchester. I have a prediction about something you'll ask for after reading this chapter...lol. Vaughn being so freaked out when he figures out that the Winchesters are in the area was Janice's idea and I loved it. "We're the freaking Winchesters!" Hehe. I got your email and promise it will get included.
waitingforAslan: Right? And as another commenter said, isn't it every kid's dream to have free run of school? I can see little Sam and Dean having a lot of fun and thinking they were in the lap of luxury. I truly believe that monsters told Winchester stories around the campfires at night and told their kids to behave or the Winchesters would get them! And it makes me think of the moment Bart the demon goes, "The famous Winchesters" and Dean responds, "Some random demon." LOL.
stedan: Maybe Vaughn is smart like when a very early Crowley wanted to know if he was the only one who didn't underestimate the "denim-wrapped nightmares." I'm sure Vaughn's pets are sweet little guinea pigs or something. I'm so glad that you like flashbacks. I'm kind of addicted to them. And hey, another little one here. Thank you so much for the nice review!
Kathy: The interrogation scene was very fun to write. It kind of feels like the last two chapters have been mostly light-hearted...and then there's Vaughn and his mysterious menagerie. I'm glad you enjoyed the flashback, and you got some more of it in this one. I'm afraid that I haven't given you answers here, either, mostly just a filler chapter, but hopefully you found it fun just like I did.