Supernatural [Reader Insert]

51. Judge

Eventually, the fire died down and Elizabeth's now cremated remains could be re-buried. By the time the three of you got back into the Impala it was about time for the sun to come back up. You were all dirty, tired, and hungry. Dean stopped at a 24-hour drive through burger joint and ordered a meal. Sam got a coffee, and– after you had looked at him like he was crazy– you asked for a shake and fries. After pulling up at the motel you followed on Dean's heels as he led the way to your room with the key in his hand.

He let out a groan as he opened the door and flipped the lights on. "Another night at the office. Why don't you take the first shower?"

You smiled and almost sprinted to the bathroom. Your food could wait until after you were clean. You set your shake down on the dining table. But Sam's words stopped you.

"Hey, listen to this. 'A local man, Christopher Fisher, was ripped to shreds in a wild animal attack last night.'"

You reluctantly turned around as Sam held up the daily paper. He must have grabbed it on the way in.

"It is a dangerous world out there." Dean threw himself onto the bed he had claimed and groaned as he laid back, not bothering to pick his feet up and swing them onto the bed. The paper bag of food sat next to him.

"He was in the restroom of a diner." Sam added.

Dean immediately sat back up, squinting his tired eyes. "Yeah, that doesn't sound right."

You let out a dramatic sigh and walked around to the closest bed to sit down. Dean opened the bag and pulled out his burger. You waved your hand at him and the bag. His eyebrows lifted as he took a bite before he realized what you meant. He turned and grabbed the bag before holding it out to you and mumbling, "Here," through a full mouth. You grabbed it and started pulling out fries.

"Apparently, none of the patrons saw anything," Sam continued. "The guy calls 911 screaming about a dog, but the operator didn't hear anything, either." Sam tossed the paper onto the small dining table and then pulled out his laptop. He sipped his coffee and then sat in a chair at the table and started typing. He paused. "Wow. Looks like this guy had a history with dogs."

"What does that mean?" you furrowed your brow at him.

"Five years ago he was arrested for running a dog-fighting operation."

"Aw," you whimpered and frowned, and ate more fries.

"Classy," Dean commented sarcastically. "So, what? He causes so much misery that some rottweiler goes Cujo on him from beyond the grave?"

You raised an eyebrow, but continued munching.

"Wait a second. Do– Do dogs even have ghosts?" Dean wondered.

"First I've heard of it," Sam answered seriously.

You shook your head lightly, searching your brain for anything helpful. "I think ghost-dog sounds less weird than ghost-car."

"You know what does make sense," Dean added, "vengeance on the guy that Michael Vick-ed you. I mean, I'm no one to judge, but it sounds to me like that guy had it coming."

"Maybe..." Sam looked back down at his laptop.

"Vengeance..." you thought out loud. "Do we think these are connected cases? Maybe it is a vigilante ghost or... something."

Sam shook his head and read something on the screen. "I don't know. He got busted, got probation, started volunteering at an animal shelter."

"Yeah, 'cause he had to," Dean said.