Down the Rabbit Hole

Family Business Part 1

Dean stood on the walkway, looking out on the frozen pond as he listened to Frank.
"So, Dick's funding an archaeological dig? Well, unless Dick's actually digging himself, I'm not sure I know what to do with that, Frank. Or the factory in Saudi Arabia, or the fishery in Jakarta. None of this is helping, Frank." He complained.

"Explain how Western to Southeast Asia is too wide a net. You know, I could be in Tromso right now. Zero Leviathan activity in Tromso."

"Where the hell is Tromso?" Dean asked, frowning.

"Norway, you moron. By the way, they opened another Biggerson in Butte."

"Yeah, well, we're not in Montana." Dean told him.

"Oh, you know where Butte is. That's encouraging. So, where are you?"

"We're in Oregon."

"No. I got nothing in Oregon."

"Wisconsin, Frank." Dean reminded him.

"What about it?"

"The coordinates – Bobby's coordinates." Dean explained, exasperatedly.

"Bobby... Oh! Right. Yeah, no. I got nothing. I got no activity."

"Well, work on it." Dean told him. His attention was drawn to Sam and Lacey exiting a nearby café and heading in his direction.

"Hey. When did you become the boss of me? You don't like what I'm doing, you can stick it right up your Montana."

"All right, all right, all right. Take it easy, Frank."

"Oh, and another thing..." Frank said, before promptly hanging up.

"Frank? Hello?" Dean looked at his phone in annoyance. "He's a crazy son of a bitch." Dean muttered as Sam and Lacey reached him.

"Frank?" Sam asked as Lacey handed him a cup of coffee.

"You know, having a cranky total paranoid as your go-to guy, that's... it's... I don't know what it is. What, are you going for, like, the Guinness record of caffeine consumption? That's like your fifth this morning." Dean noted, nodding at Sam's drink.

"Yeah, well, every time I close my eyes, Lucifer is yelling into my head. It's like I let him in once, now I can't get rid of him." Lacey watched him worriedly as she sipped her hot chocolate.

"You know he's not actually..."

"Yeah. Yeah, no. I know. Uh, try telling that to the volume control inside my brain." Sam pulled a face.

"Well, did you try the hand thing?"

"Yeah." Sam shook his head in defeat. "Anyway, long as I'm awake, check it out." He handed Dean a newspaper. "They're saying drugs, but read between the lines. Sounds like she danced her own feet off. Might be our kind of thing."

"Dancers. They are toe shoes full of crazy." Dean commented as he skimmed the article.

"And you would know this how?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I saw "Black Swan." Twice. Hot tutu-on-tutu action? Come on, Sam. What's wrong with you?"
"Wow. The depths of your..." Sam glanced at Lacey who shrugged.
"It's not my job to police his viewing habits."

"Anyway, it's in Portland, a couple hours away. What do you think?"

"Yeah, dancers. Why not? Maybe you'll get some sleep on the way." Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, maybe." Sam replied, noncommittally before getting in the car. Dean and Lacey shared a look before getting in too.

They arrived in Portland a few hours later. They checked out the crime scene before heading to the police station.
"So, the usual – no EMF, no sulfur, no hex junk." Sam confirmed as they walked in.
"If there's no more dancers to interview on this trip, it could be a bust. Although I hear they have good coffee in Portland." Dean replied, disappointedly.