Part of the Family Business (A Supernatural Fanfic)

Chapter Six

We arrive in Alabama and manage to find a decent motel. When the three of us walk in, Dean pulls a credit card from his wallet.

"Hello," the young man at the front desk greets us. "How many are staying?"

"Three," Sam says.

"Three beds?" the man confirms.

"Two," Dean cuts in. The man glances up to Dean; Dean looks around a little awkwardly.

"Alright," the man says slowly, "here's your key - room 12A. It has two king beds, a bathroom, a kitchen, and cable. Enjoy your stay," he adds a smile at the end.

Sam passes him a credit card, and Dean takes the key. I follow after him to get the bags. My mouth opens to start talking, but I hope he doesn't see, because I decide not to; it would be awkward.

We manage to get most of the bags into the room, and Sam comes just in time to help us get the last one.

"Well," Dean starts, "lifting bags gives me quite the appetite. Who's up for some lunch, yeah?" He grins and grabs the car keys from the counter beside the door and walks out. Sam and I exchange a look, shrug, and follow him.

He takes us to a diner walking distance from the motel. I order a BLT with mayonnaise on toasted bread; Sam gets a grilled cheese; and Dean asks for a bacon cheeseburger with fries on the side. As we wait for the food, Sam pulls out his laptop.

"About that case," he says, typing some things in. "There's another one." He spins the laptop to face Dean and me on the other side of the booth. Skimming the article, I collect that a man was found - who died of blood loss, like the first victim - with shredded arms and face.

"They found him yesterday?" Dean speaks up; Sam nods.

"So far, they're a couple days between each other," Sam points out. He turns the laptop back to face him. Dean and I share a glance. I see him turn pink before we both turn away. My tongue nudges at my lip piercing again; the waitress comes back with our food.

After we finish eating, we head back to the motel to change and go to the recent crime scene. I, of course, wear my new red and black suit; I suddenly notice how good Dean looks in a suit and tie. The three of us hop into the black Impala again and drive off to where the scene is.

"Chrys," Sam starts, turning around in his seat to see me better, "are you going to take off your piercings?"

I frown, saying, "No. Why?"

"Well, it's just," Sam glances to Dean nervously, then back to me, "it's a little unprofessional."

"So is my blue hair," I point out, "but I can't just take that out, now, can I?"

"No, but," Sam starts to get impatient, "it would just be better if you played the part better and took off your face piercings."

"Plenty of people have face piercings," I say, my voice rising slightly. "What, you've never seen a cop with some tattoos? It's the same thing."

"No it's not," Sam defends, raising his voice too. "Tattoos and piercings are different; otherwise they'd be called the same thi-"

Dean cuts in, "Hey. Stop fighting like children, okay? If Chrys wants to wear her piercings, let her wear her piercings. If you want to wear your hair like that, Sam, I'll let you wear your hair like that."

"Wait, what's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, okay?" Dean says sternly back. "Just shut up about it - shut up about everything. Jeesh."

He parks on the side of the road and gets out angrily; Sam and I exchange a confused look that says "it must be his time of the month", and then we get out, too. I put my hair in a bun in an attempt to look more professional, but something tells me it isn't going to make that much of a difference.

A few of the police turn to look at us, having heard footsteps - probably my heels on the pavement.

"Hi," Dean says, grinning. "We're agents Banner and Stark, and this is our intern Walters." They both show off badges; luckily, I don't have to show my non-existent one.

"Is this really an FBI matter, agent?" the policeman asks, his voice thick with a country accent.

"Yes, sir," Dean replies. "And if you could, please, leave the questions to us." He shows off a smile and goes to duck under the caution tape. Dean holds it up for me to duck under, and we continue walking through the wide squared in section of asphalt; it's in front of an abandoned gas station, a mangled body laying in the very center.

"Hi," Sam says this time, showing off badges again. "We wanted to ask a few questions about the case." The policewoman nods, and Sam continues. "Did you notice any unusual markings on the body?"

Dean holds a pad and pencil to write things down. "No," she replies, shaking her head. "Just the markings made by what we assume to be claws going vertically along the victim's arms and face."

"Claws?" Sam repeats. The three of us exchange a glance before Sam looks back at the cop. "Do you think this case and the one that happened the other day could have any connection?"

She simply shrugs, saying, "Nobody's found any connection between the two, yet - other than the fact they both apparently died of blood loss."

I speak up, "Have you run tests to prove this? Was the past body thoroughly examined to rule out any other possible causes of death?" The lady looks me up and down; I see her try to resist frowning.

"The other body's at the coroner's now," she replies. "We're supposed to hear the findings later on in the day." The woman looks me up and down again before turning back to Sam.

"Thank you for your time," he says, smiling. The two walk off, but I stand where I am, staring at the body just a few feet away from me.

"Walters," I hear Dean call from behind me. I walk over and crouch beside the body; Dean and Sam walk up behind me.

"Something's off about how the head's positioned," I say, pushing the head sideways with my thumb. It rolls over to reveal a wide hole just behind the victim's ear.

"Woah," Sam says, crouching down beside me. "There's no brain." A few people rush over to tell me not to touch the evidence, but they all stop. The photographers begin taking pictures of this new information, and I stand. Dean gives me a smirk, and I smile back. Then the three of us walk back to the car, leaving the frantic and curious investigators behind us.

Once we get in the car, Sam laughs. "That was amazing, Chrys. I have to admit, I kind of underestimated you."

"Wow," Dean and I say in unison. But I laugh it off.

"Thanks, Sam," I say, grinning.

"I managed to find out where the other body's kept," Dean says, pulling into the road. "You think this guy's brains are missing, too?"

Sam shrugs; so do I.

"The claw marks are in different places, so it's kind of hard to tell what did it and what they were trying to get to," I say.

"You're so smart," Dean remarks quietly, shaking his head. Sam smirks, and I feel my face warm.

We arrive at the hospital and get to the coroner.

"Hello," Sam chimes, grinning and showing off his badge; Dean does the same. "We're here about a body that was checked in a few days ago. I believe his name was Joseph Brannan."

"Oh," the young lady remarks. Her hair falls in perfect curls onto her shoulders, and she smiles to reveal perfect white teeth. "He's over here." She walks over and unlocks one of the metal doors on the wall to slide out a table with a body on it. Dean swivels over a small table at the foot - or head - of the body. All three of us pull on gloves, and the coroner walks off to write a report or something.

Sam moves the white sheet back, pulling it down to reveal the entire torso of the deceased Joseph.

"Nice abs," I whisper. Dean frowns at me, and Sam just laughs. His laughter abruptly stops as he stares into the hole in the middle of the boy's chest. It has been torn open, revealing where the heart should be.