Part of the Family Business (A Supernatural Fanfic)

Chapter Ten

We get back to the motel, and I immediately get to work on opening the jar.

"Wait," Sam says, "before you do that, Chrys, I think we need to try to figure out how to stop this."

Dean nods his agreement and sets the jarred brain firmly on the kitchen table.

"So," he says, and we all sit down. "It's a pet food store," Dean announces, smirking.

Sam and I glance at each other. "Basically, yeah," I say. "How do we stop it, though?"

There's a moment of thoughtful silence. Actually, it's more than a moment. We probably take about 15 minutes trying to figure this out. Every now and again, Sam might start to say something - or I will - but the thoughts never get finished.

"Do you think it would be better to think out loud?" Sam suggests, glancing around at the two of us. I just shrug, and then I kick Dean's shin to wake him up.

"Yeah," Dean says as he flinches. "Yeah, that's good.. good..." He rubs his eyes, and I roll mine.

"Well," I start, "I think we should just kill whoever started it. That would bring down the entire company."

"But we don't know who or what's running it," Sam points out.

"Plus," Dean butts in, "what if some of the customers found out? They'd come for us."

I stare at my folded hands on the table. "I think we need some back up," I say, frowning as I look up at the two.

"I agree," Sam says, standing and reaching into his pocket. He goes over to the other side of the room to make the call. Meanwhile, I prop my feet up in the chair he was sitting in and work on opening the jar. Dean puts his head down on the table and goes back to sleep.

With some difficulty, I manage to open up the jar. Slowly, I look in, as if I were afraid something would jump out at me. Nothing does, so I grab a napkin from the counter behind me and put it out on the table. Then I shove my hand into the jar.

I cringe, feeling something slimy and quickly throw it down on the napkin. It's a small chunk of brain, most likely the back or underside - hard to tell when you don't have the rest of it. Prodding and turning the sliver of brain, I can identify the pituitary gland.

"Dean," Sam says very loudly, making the both of us jump; he smirks. "I arranged for some people to meet us at the diner a few blocks down tomorrow. I'm going to go restock on stuff," he continues, pulling his jacket on. "Anything specific either of you need while I'm out?"

"Chocolate milk," I say happily, "please," I add with a grin. Sam nods and takes the car keys, glancing to Dean, who doesn't say anything. Then he walks out. Dean slides his chair back, peering through the slit in the curtains on the window above the sink. Carefully, I put the piece of brain back into its jar, scrunching my nose up.

"So," Dean says, turning back to me, "what'd you figure out?"

"Well," I start, screwing the lid back onto the jar, "it's the pituitary gland. At first, I thought it was the whole brain. But, no, just the pituitary gland. Probably because the kitsune don't like having to dig through the whole brain," I shrug, "I'm not sure." Then I go to wash my hands.

Dean smiles at me, and I give him a questioning look. "How'd you know it was the pituitary gland?" he asks curiously, propping his feet on the table.

"I, um," I glance around as if someone were listening, "I went to medical school for 2 years." Drying my hands quickly, I sit back down in my chair.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Hunting," I sigh, "mainly. And my dad disappearing..." Dean slowly pulls his feet off the table, staring at me.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says softly, moving in closer to me. He kneels next to my chair so our faces are equal and kisses me. We sit there for a while, kissing and moving our hands up each others' shirts. Eventually, Dean pulls back, and I sigh sadly. But he pulls me onto him as he sits in the chair behind him. I run my fingers through his hair, still kissing him passionately. It has as much feeling as the last one does - if not, more.

As his hands reach up to my bra, the door opens. Quickly, I pull back, staring up to the person entering. It's just Sam... Sam!

"What?" he says, dropping the grocery bags beside the door as he closes it. "What?" he says again after a while. Dean and I just stare at him, not knowing what to do.

"What did I just walk in on?" Sam says loudly, apparently regaining his ability to speak. I quickly slide off of Dean and take a seat in another chair.

"It," Dean starts to talk. I nervously finger the piercing in my cheek, glancing between the two. "We um," Dean starts again. It appears we've both lost our speech, and I don't try to come to the rescue; I want to see what Dean says...

"We," Dean starts again, glancing to me, "we're dating," he finally spits out at Sam. "We're dating, okay? We're dating. I'm her boyfriend; she's my girlfriend, alright?" Dean's standing now, and I frown curiously at him.

"That's cool and all, but there's work to be done," Sam states, tossing his jacket onto his bed.

"We did work," I say confidently, glaring at Sam. "I figured out what was in the jar," my arms cross as I stand and walk closer to him. "It's the pituitary gland. I assumed they wanted it to be easier for the kitsunes to eat, or something." He gives me an impressed and satisfied look, glancing to Dean.

Then he looks back to me, saying, "How'd you know it was the pituitary gland?"

"I went to medical school," I say shyly, turning to get the jar.

"Cool," he says behind me. I put the jar back into the plastic bag I brought it in. "I went to law school."

My head turns to him quickly. "Really?" He nods, smiling nostalgically. Then I smile over to Dean, trying to mask my confusion. Why didn't anyone tell me? I guess I'm not as close to them as I believed.

"So," Sam says, interrupting my thoughts, "does this mean our hunches were right? I'm talking about the vampires, werewolves, and kitsunes, by the way." He glances around at us, sitting at the kitchen table. "What, your mouths aren't working now?" Sam smirks.

"Well, we aren't certain," Dean says, frowning at his brother's comment.

"It's our best bet, though," I add in, leaning my butt against the counter.

"Now that we've determined that," Dean starts, leaning back in his chair, "what do we do about it?"

"I think the more important question is," I say thoughtfully, "do we attack the head, or the body?"