SPN Fanfic: Laundry Day 5/8
Title:Laundry Day - 5/8
Characters: Sam, Dean, OC
Classification: Humour, multi-part, gen
Rating: PG13? K+? Nothing that couldn't have been televised.
Warnings: None. Smatterings of spoilers for Season 1 episodes up to and including "Nightmare"
Word Count: 1436 words
Disclaimer: All my base are belong to the Winchesters. Wow. I am a geek.
Timeline: Set between the Season 1 episodes "Nightmare" and "Benders"
Summary: The Winchester boys do their laundry. Sounds boring, doesn't it... Sam and Dean can only wish it was.
Originally posted June 13, 2006 at fanfiction.net
Laundry Day - Part 5
by CaffieneKitty
- - -
Daisies? thought Sam, looking at his cell phone outside the laundromat. Dean hung up on me for daisies? What the hell...? He hit redial.
- - -
Dean had taken one step towards the woman storming towards him when his phone rang again. Dammit, Sam! He flicked open his phone and at the last minute decided to set up some authenticity for whatever line of bull he was going to try to feed this woman. "Central," he said in his best voice of authority, "I'm on a ten-fifty four. Off radio for fifteen." He flicked the phone shut again and switched the ring to 'mute', because a confused Sam was a persistent Sam. Sure as anything he'd be phoning back again because he'd think Dean actually meant something besides 'bugger off for a while' with all the codes.
"I asked you a question young man," said the woman who was suddenly within bouquet-whapping range, "Who are you, and what are you doing to my son's grave?"
"I'm-" Dean quickly trolled his memory for what ID he had in his wallet at the moment. Nothing useful. He went with the name on the driver's license, "-Officer Mark Evans. I'm with the Alger County Sheriff's Department," he said, hoping she wouldn't ask for ID.
"You expect me to believe you? I want to see ID."
Aw, hell. He dug out his wallet, flashed his driver's license and a shiny yet meaningless badge quickly, and tried to distract her from looking too close. "We had a report of smoke in the area, and it seems someone's set fire to something at your son's grave." What the hell, it was true.
"What?" She pushed past Dean to look at the black ashy chunks strewn around her son's grave.
"Could be vandals, but we wanted to ask you a few questions in case this was some kind of attack directed at your family." Pen and notepad, cops always have a pen and notepad. Dean rummaged through his pockets while her back was turned.
"I don't have a family," she said, brushing at the ash chunks in the grass. "Not since Michael died."
Pen and notepad, where the hell did I, whoops, that's the EMF reader. "An attack directed against you then?"
She looked up at him narrow-eyed. "Who did you say you were again?"
"Officer Evans. Sheriff's Department." There's the notepad. He pulled it out suavely and flipped it open."Look, Mrs. Hussman-"
"It's Kopecky. Ms. Kopecky. I haven't been Mrs. Hussman since before Michael died."
"Ms. Kopecky," Dean wrote the name down, "I'm just trying to help you out here." He tried for that puppy-dog look Sam always uses to talk to people that don't want to talk, but Dean felt like he was leering so he stopped. "If there's anyone that might have a grudge against you we need to know."
She frowned. "Michael's father, perhaps, but I... haven't actually seen him since Michael turned five."
Two years before Michael died. "You were divorced?"
"Not exactly. Not officially in any case." She brushed some ash from Michael's grave marker and placed the bundle of daisies and lupins across the stone. "Things were bad. I left and took Michael, to keep us both safe. I thought..." She shut her mouth with a snap and glared up at Dean. "I really don't see why you need to know any of this."
"Just trying to be thorough." Dean grimaced inwardly. This was going to be like pulling teeth. "What about your son's death?"
"What about my son's death, Officer?" She stood and crossed her arms.
"Of course we have all the old records in the County archives, but if you could give your account of it..."
"I've given my account more than enough times."
"We know he died twenty three years ago in the laundromat and that it was an accident."
"Accident," the woman hissed. "I left him in a public place for ten minutes, I told that useless girl working there to watch him, and when I came back, he was dead."
There's a sore spot. "Ah," said Dean, "so you don't think it was an accident?"
"It was all that girl's fault. The owner's daughter. I took their money when they offered it because I had none, and I needed to stay near Michael. I would have thrown it back in their faces. They kept her name out of the paper, made it seem like no one was to blame because they didn't want one mistake to ruin her life. Even though her one mistake ended my son's life."
Potential wrongful death, and the laundromat owners had covered it up? That'd annoy a spirit. "So, you think she killed him?" he prodded again.
"She may as well have, she certainly didn't save him. Ten minutes I was gone. I asked her to watch Michael until I came back, I even told her Michael's father might come and try to take him or hurt him. When I came back, the ambulance was pulling in." Ms. Kopecky shook her head.
"Michael's father was chasing you?"
She pressed her lips together. "I thought he was following us for a while, I'd seen him..." She shook her head again. "Legally, I suppose I had kidnapped Michael. It doesn't matter now." She looked over at the bundle of flowers on the grave marker. "Michael and I were staying in campgrounds during the off season, heading north. We were running to Canada, to get a fresh start. We came into town to do laundry. We never planned to stay."
"So, if you thought you were being chased by your ex, why'd you leave your son with a total stranger at the laundromat?"
Her eyes flashed. "What are you implying, Officer?"
That sounded like a wall going up. With spikes on top. Better backpedal. "Nothing, I'm sure there's a good reason, just seems kind of strange."
Her back straightened and she crossed her arms again. "I thought I'd seen his father's car go by. I had to go check, and I couldn't take Michael with me in case it was him. I told him to hide, as usual, if he felt scared or saw his father, and not come out until I came for him."
"Ah," said Dean. "Have you been back to the laundromat since then? At all?"
"Never. Not since I left Michael there. I don't even walk on the same side of the street. I'm never going back to the place my son was taken from me."
"Ah." So that's why Mikey's still waiting. Dean thought about Lawrence, and added awkwardly, "Ya know, sometimes it's worth going back to a place like that, 'coz sometimes... you don't realize what you left behind."
"Never." The woman glared, arms securely folded. "I don't see what this has to do with someone setting fires on my son's grave."
Dean cleared his throat. "It's all background, ma'am. Helps to have the whole picture. Now, about the girl, what exactly did you say to her?"
"I said a whole lot of things I don't care to have taken down as evidence." The woman curled her lip and sniffed. "The careless cow had the nerve to show up at Michael's funeral. I told her exactly what I thought of her then. I'd asked her to watch Michael until I came back, and he died. Stupid little bitch. Because of her, my son is dead. I can never forgive that. Her parents took her away, crying her crocodile tears. They knew it was her fault. They didn't even try to defend her."
Dean's jaw clenched. "Did you know Amanda killed herself two weeks later?"
Breeze rustled the leaves in the ensuing silence. "Yes. I'd heard. Though I'd be really interested to know how you know her name, considering you were just asking me about her."
Crap. Crapcrapcrap. "Her name came up when we ran the name from the tombstone..."
"I'd like to see that ID again," she paused, "Officer."
"Ah. Sorry to have disturbed you, ma'am. I'll be on my way." Dean scrawled his cell number on a blank page from the notebook and held it out. "If you think of anything else..."
Ms. Kopecky looked at the paper in Dean's hand as though it was a dead rat, then snatched it and crumpled it in her fist. "I'd appreciate it if you would leave. Now."
Okay. That went well. Dean thought as he headed down the path to the cemetery gate. Once he was clear of her glare and inside the Impala, Dean turned the ringer back on on his cell and called Sam.
"Livestock on the highway?" Sam answered incomprehensibly.
"Hunh?"
"That's what a ten-fifty four is in Michigan. I looked it up."
"Whatever, brainiac. Michael's mom showed up at the graveyard."
"What?"
"I'll explain in a minute, I'm on my way back." Dean flicked the phone shut and started the Impala.
- - -
(Part 4) (INDEX) (Part 6)
Characters: Sam, Dean, OC
Classification: Humour, multi-part, gen
Rating: PG13? K+? Nothing that couldn't have been televised.
Warnings: None. Smatterings of spoilers for Season 1 episodes up to and including "Nightmare"
Word Count: 1436 words
Disclaimer: All my base are belong to the Winchesters. Wow. I am a geek.
Timeline: Set between the Season 1 episodes "Nightmare" and "Benders"
Summary: The Winchester boys do their laundry. Sounds boring, doesn't it... Sam and Dean can only wish it was.
Originally posted June 13, 2006 at fanfiction.net
Laundry Day - Part 5
by CaffieneKitty
- - -
Daisies? thought Sam, looking at his cell phone outside the laundromat. Dean hung up on me for daisies? What the hell...? He hit redial.
- - -
Dean had taken one step towards the woman storming towards him when his phone rang again. Dammit, Sam! He flicked open his phone and at the last minute decided to set up some authenticity for whatever line of bull he was going to try to feed this woman. "Central," he said in his best voice of authority, "I'm on a ten-fifty four. Off radio for fifteen." He flicked the phone shut again and switched the ring to 'mute', because a confused Sam was a persistent Sam. Sure as anything he'd be phoning back again because he'd think Dean actually meant something besides 'bugger off for a while' with all the codes.
"I asked you a question young man," said the woman who was suddenly within bouquet-whapping range, "Who are you, and what are you doing to my son's grave?"
"I'm-" Dean quickly trolled his memory for what ID he had in his wallet at the moment. Nothing useful. He went with the name on the driver's license, "-Officer Mark Evans. I'm with the Alger County Sheriff's Department," he said, hoping she wouldn't ask for ID.
"You expect me to believe you? I want to see ID."
Aw, hell. He dug out his wallet, flashed his driver's license and a shiny yet meaningless badge quickly, and tried to distract her from looking too close. "We had a report of smoke in the area, and it seems someone's set fire to something at your son's grave." What the hell, it was true.
"What?" She pushed past Dean to look at the black ashy chunks strewn around her son's grave.
"Could be vandals, but we wanted to ask you a few questions in case this was some kind of attack directed at your family." Pen and notepad, cops always have a pen and notepad. Dean rummaged through his pockets while her back was turned.
"I don't have a family," she said, brushing at the ash chunks in the grass. "Not since Michael died."
Pen and notepad, where the hell did I, whoops, that's the EMF reader. "An attack directed against you then?"
She looked up at him narrow-eyed. "Who did you say you were again?"
"Officer Evans. Sheriff's Department." There's the notepad. He pulled it out suavely and flipped it open."Look, Mrs. Hussman-"
"It's Kopecky. Ms. Kopecky. I haven't been Mrs. Hussman since before Michael died."
"Ms. Kopecky," Dean wrote the name down, "I'm just trying to help you out here." He tried for that puppy-dog look Sam always uses to talk to people that don't want to talk, but Dean felt like he was leering so he stopped. "If there's anyone that might have a grudge against you we need to know."
She frowned. "Michael's father, perhaps, but I... haven't actually seen him since Michael turned five."
Two years before Michael died. "You were divorced?"
"Not exactly. Not officially in any case." She brushed some ash from Michael's grave marker and placed the bundle of daisies and lupins across the stone. "Things were bad. I left and took Michael, to keep us both safe. I thought..." She shut her mouth with a snap and glared up at Dean. "I really don't see why you need to know any of this."
"Just trying to be thorough." Dean grimaced inwardly. This was going to be like pulling teeth. "What about your son's death?"
"What about my son's death, Officer?" She stood and crossed her arms.
"Of course we have all the old records in the County archives, but if you could give your account of it..."
"I've given my account more than enough times."
"We know he died twenty three years ago in the laundromat and that it was an accident."
"Accident," the woman hissed. "I left him in a public place for ten minutes, I told that useless girl working there to watch him, and when I came back, he was dead."
There's a sore spot. "Ah," said Dean, "so you don't think it was an accident?"
"It was all that girl's fault. The owner's daughter. I took their money when they offered it because I had none, and I needed to stay near Michael. I would have thrown it back in their faces. They kept her name out of the paper, made it seem like no one was to blame because they didn't want one mistake to ruin her life. Even though her one mistake ended my son's life."
Potential wrongful death, and the laundromat owners had covered it up? That'd annoy a spirit. "So, you think she killed him?" he prodded again.
"She may as well have, she certainly didn't save him. Ten minutes I was gone. I asked her to watch Michael until I came back, I even told her Michael's father might come and try to take him or hurt him. When I came back, the ambulance was pulling in." Ms. Kopecky shook her head.
"Michael's father was chasing you?"
She pressed her lips together. "I thought he was following us for a while, I'd seen him..." She shook her head again. "Legally, I suppose I had kidnapped Michael. It doesn't matter now." She looked over at the bundle of flowers on the grave marker. "Michael and I were staying in campgrounds during the off season, heading north. We were running to Canada, to get a fresh start. We came into town to do laundry. We never planned to stay."
"So, if you thought you were being chased by your ex, why'd you leave your son with a total stranger at the laundromat?"
Her eyes flashed. "What are you implying, Officer?"
That sounded like a wall going up. With spikes on top. Better backpedal. "Nothing, I'm sure there's a good reason, just seems kind of strange."
Her back straightened and she crossed her arms again. "I thought I'd seen his father's car go by. I had to go check, and I couldn't take Michael with me in case it was him. I told him to hide, as usual, if he felt scared or saw his father, and not come out until I came for him."
"Ah," said Dean. "Have you been back to the laundromat since then? At all?"
"Never. Not since I left Michael there. I don't even walk on the same side of the street. I'm never going back to the place my son was taken from me."
"Ah." So that's why Mikey's still waiting. Dean thought about Lawrence, and added awkwardly, "Ya know, sometimes it's worth going back to a place like that, 'coz sometimes... you don't realize what you left behind."
"Never." The woman glared, arms securely folded. "I don't see what this has to do with someone setting fires on my son's grave."
Dean cleared his throat. "It's all background, ma'am. Helps to have the whole picture. Now, about the girl, what exactly did you say to her?"
"I said a whole lot of things I don't care to have taken down as evidence." The woman curled her lip and sniffed. "The careless cow had the nerve to show up at Michael's funeral. I told her exactly what I thought of her then. I'd asked her to watch Michael until I came back, and he died. Stupid little bitch. Because of her, my son is dead. I can never forgive that. Her parents took her away, crying her crocodile tears. They knew it was her fault. They didn't even try to defend her."
Dean's jaw clenched. "Did you know Amanda killed herself two weeks later?"
Breeze rustled the leaves in the ensuing silence. "Yes. I'd heard. Though I'd be really interested to know how you know her name, considering you were just asking me about her."
Crap. Crapcrapcrap. "Her name came up when we ran the name from the tombstone..."
"I'd like to see that ID again," she paused, "Officer."
"Ah. Sorry to have disturbed you, ma'am. I'll be on my way." Dean scrawled his cell number on a blank page from the notebook and held it out. "If you think of anything else..."
Ms. Kopecky looked at the paper in Dean's hand as though it was a dead rat, then snatched it and crumpled it in her fist. "I'd appreciate it if you would leave. Now."
Okay. That went well. Dean thought as he headed down the path to the cemetery gate. Once he was clear of her glare and inside the Impala, Dean turned the ringer back on on his cell and called Sam.
"Livestock on the highway?" Sam answered incomprehensibly.
"Hunh?"
"That's what a ten-fifty four is in Michigan. I looked it up."
"Whatever, brainiac. Michael's mom showed up at the graveyard."
"What?"
"I'll explain in a minute, I'm on my way back." Dean flicked the phone shut and started the Impala.
- - -
(Part 4) (INDEX) (Part 6)