Reading Between The Lines (Sabriel)

Chapter 12

A/N The next few chapters follow the course of Changing Channels. Feel free to consult the Holy Bible that is Netflix for confirmation that this is all canon.

"Hey," Dean says, looking up at his brother expectantly as he walks in back into the motel. "Find anything?"

"Well, I saw the house," Sam says.

"And?" Dean prompts, impatiently waiting for him to finish.

"And there is a giant, 8-foot-wide hole where the front door used to be," Sam says. "Almost like..."

"A hulk-sized hole," Dean finishes.

"Maybe."

This is easily one of the weirdest cases they've ever taken. They heard a man that got chased through his house and eaten by a bear -- which is definitely not something a bear does, no matter how pissed off it is -- and they knew it was something up their alley. But when the wife said she saw the Incredible Hulk... Well, that's a bit weird, even by their standards.

"What do you got?" Sam asks. Hopefully Dean is making more sense of this than he is.

"Well," Dean says, "turns out that Bill Randolph had quite the temper." He turns his attention back to his computer as he reads off the charges. "He's got two counts of spousal battery, bar brawls, and court-ordered anger management sessions." He looks back at Sam. "You might say you wouldn't like him when he's angry.'" The way he says it, it's clear he sees the irony in that.

Sam, on the other hand, sees a lot more than irony there.

He scoffs. "So, a hothead getting killed by TV's greatest hothead. Kinda sounds like just desserts, doesn't it?"

Dean chuckles at that.

"It's all starting to make sense," Sam mutters. He'd tried pushing the possibility out of his mind, but nothing else would make sense. The clues are just lining up in a big, flashing arrow.

The way Dean looks up at him, it's clear the guy thinks he's insane. "How's it starting to make sense?"

"Well," Sam says, reaching into his pockets, "I found something else at the crime scene." He holds up some of the wrappers he grabbed when the cops weren't looking. "Candy wrappers. Lots of 'em." He drops them on Dean's desk, giving him the chance to piece it together himself.

Dean eyes the wrappers for a moment. "Just desserts. Sweet tooth. Screwing with people before you kill 'em. We're dealing with the Trickster, aren't we?"

"Sure looks like."

Sam can hear it in his voice that he's pissed. He probably would be, too, if he were in his brother's shoes. But it's pretty obvious right now that they're not going to agree on what to do. Dean may have the high ground, though, because he can actually explain why he feels the way he does without starting a huge fight about keeping secrets and breaking trust.

"Good," Dean says. "Been wanting to gank that mother since the Mystery Spot."

Sam looks over at him, a little surprised and a little wary. "You sure?" That's a little much, given what they know about the guy -- that he's practically impossible to kill and he always gets his way. Even without knowing what he's like behind closed doors, he's not sure he'd go that far.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Dean says, clearly taken aback that Sam would even say that.

"No, I mean, are you sure you want to kill him?" Sam tries again.

Dean gapes at him. "Son of a bitch didn't think twice about icing me -- a thousand times!"

"No, I know," Sam says quickly. "I mean... I'm just saying" God, how does he explain this? How does he get Dean to not want him dead? How could he possibly get Dean to leave him alone? It's not like they can use him to help them out at all.

Wait.

Yes, they can.

"What are you saying?" Dean asks, a bit defensive. "You don't want to kill him, then what?"

Sam hesitates. This is about all he's got. It's the best excuse he can think of, and it may actually work out for everyone in the long run. But that's entirely dependent on Dean not murdering him just for bringing up the idea.

"Talk to him?" Sam suggests.

"What?"

"Look, think about it, Dean," Sam says, a little more confident in the idea now that Dean hasn't completely shot it down. "He's one of the most powerful creatures we've ever met. Maybe we can use him."

"For what?" Dean asks, clearly not quite on board yet.

"Okay, Trickster's like a Hugh Hefner type, right? Wine, women, song?" It's not entirely his game, of course -- especially the women part, because he's certainly not swinging that way at the moment, but the best way to explain it to Dean is in a way that he would like it. Point out the similarities between the two of them, and hopefully, he'll grab onto them subconsciously. "Maybe he doesn't want the party to end. I mean, maybe he hates this 'angels and demons' stuff as much as we do. Maybe he'll help us." Sure, Sam's been keeping it from him for a few months, but if they ask, he can't say no, right?

"You're serious," Dean says.

"Yeah!"

"Ally with the Trickster."

Sam's a little less confident now. "Yeah."

"A bloody, violent monster, and you wanna be Facebook friends with him?" Dean says incredulously. "Nice, Sammy."

Well, he's definitely glad he's been keeping their meetings a secret, because Dean would not be happy to hear about that. Unfortunately, it also means Sam can't claim the Trickster isn't a bloody, violent monster, because he should have no way to know that he's a hell of a lot more than his tricks. So, instead, he goes with the classic improv life lesson: "yes, and."

"The world is gonna end, Dean. We don't exactly have the luxury of a moral stand. I'm just saying, it's worth a shot. That's all." Seeing that Dean's still not convinced, he adds, "If it still doesn't work..." He sighs. He hates to say it, and he certainly won't go through with it, but if this is what it takes to get Dean on board, so be it. "We'll kill him."

Dean doesn't answer at first, letting out a discontent sigh and dropping his head. Finally, he asks, "How we gonna find the guy, anyway?"

"Well, he never takes just one victim, right?" Sam says. "He'll show." Because if he doesn't, Sam has his number and he's not afraid to use it.