As It Was - Dean Winchester

Part 21

"So much for our low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database," Sammy's voice was low, but I could still hear him when I walked back over with my refill of coffee. I glanced up from my cup and noticed how he had taken over my computer, a mugshot of Dean taking up the screen.

"Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something," Dean smirked as I slid into the booth next to him. His arm instantly slumped over my shoulders.

"Dean, it's not funny. Makes the job harder, we've gotta be more careful now," Sam informed him. I smiled at the two brothers.

"Perhaps you'll listen to me more carefully now."

"I don't know what you look so smug about. The feds are hot on your heels, too," Dean reminded me. I cringed at the thought.

"I don't get how. I've been careful. Hell, I even carry around hex bags. They shouldn't be able to find me."

"Maybe your hex bags need to recharge," Sam mumbled. I looked at him and hoped he wasn't right. That would mean that the bags I'd hidden among Sam and Dean's stuff would need a recharge as well. Getting the bags was expensive, even if Liam did his best to push the price down. His contact was not cheap.

"Well, what do they got on you?" Dean asked, nodding to Sam. The younger Winchester looked back to the computer, avoiding eye contact.

"I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet," he mumbled.

"No accessory? Nothing?" Dean asked, amused. I took a sip of my coffee.

"Shut up."

"You're jealous," Dean laughed, bringing me closer to his side, absent-minded of his actions.

"No, I'm not!" Sam exclaimed, and even I had to hold back my amusement, even if it was a good thing he wasn't listed in the database. Either way, I was going to try and delete the files.

"Uh-huh," Dean mused, stuffing his mouth with fries. "All right. What do you got on the case there, you innocent, harmless young man, you?"

I chuckled and stole some fires off Dean's plate, earning a careful glare from him. Sam looked between us for a moment, raising a brow and slamming the computer shut.

"Be careful with that," I warned him, reaching across and pulling the computer over the table, sliding it down into my bag.

I didn't get a response, just an annoyed huff as he pulled out some papers.

"Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed."

"Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?" I took some more fries from Dean's plate while he spoke, looking at Sam for the answer.

"Two days earlier."

"Did he actually say Black Dog?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive."

"Do you think we're dealing with an actual black dog?" Dean asked, and I looked over my shoulder, ensuring no one was listening. My eyes continued to scan the restaurant to make sure nothing had changed since the last time I checked.

"Well, maybe," Sam mumbled.

"What's the lore on it?"

Sam passed a few pages of his papers to Dean, and as he flipped through them, I began to tell him what I knew.