09x03 - Loaded Dice - Part Two: Rattlesnake
Episode number: 09x03 of Season 9 Fan Fiction (S9FF)
Title: Loaded Dice
Subtitle: Rattlesnake
Author: dracox-serdriel
Word count: 2,254
Rating: R
Warnings: language, violence, sexual innuendo
Dean dropped Sam off at a used car lot. Cas insisted that they leave the younger Winchester to find his own car, so they went for breakfast at a local diner.
After they ordered, Cas became very quiet and stared straight at Dean.
"Cas, I told you, the staring," Dean said.
"Tell me about your dream," Cas said.
"What?"
"The dream you had last night, the one Sam and I had to wake you from. What was it about?"
"I don't really remember it," he replied. "Honestly, I don't. It was messed up, you woke me up, no big deal."
"I had to slap your face, hard, more than three times, Dean," the angel insisted.
The waiter stopped and looked abjectly at him and froze, still balancing Dean's bacon sausage muffin on and Cas's bacon and eggs on her arm. She stood like that for a solid minute.
"To wake him from a bad dream," Cas explained to her finally.
"Oh, right, sorry," she said quickly as she set down their breakfast. "Didn't mean to make a fuss, me. Not my business. Enjoy, yeah?"
With that, she rushed off to another table.
"It shouldn't be that difficult to wake you from sleep," Cas continued.
"I'm a deep sleeper."
"During normal REM sleep, a human can't - "
" - don't start with that stuff, Cas!"
"I'm concerned that what you had was not a dream," the angel explained. "Tell me about it."
Dean almost dropped his sausage. "What the hell else could it be?"
"When angels visit humans in their dreams, sometimes they can hold them in that state, stop them from waking up."
"You think an angel was doing this to me?"
"Angels aren't the only creatures that can do it. That is why you need to tell me its contents."
"It was just Crowley being all menacing, okay?"
Cas awkwardly put his hand on Dean's from across the table, but Dean liked it anyway.
"Promise me you'll tell me if you have another like it."
"Cas - "
"Promise me," he insisted. His blue eyes were steely blue and serious.
"Fine. I promise. Can we eat now?"
Cas smiled and started eating. The angel enjoyed food. It was one of the few things that didn't bother him about being a little more human in the field.
Sam wanted to buy the '69 Dodge Charger. It needed some fixing up, but it would give the Impala a run for its money.
Unfortunately, his mind nagged him about its practicality. Having two easily identified cars wouldn't be strategic, and it would make far more sense to purchase a more inconspicuous vehicle.
That's how he came to the truck and minivan section of the lot. A '91 Black Dodge Ram caught his eye: two door, fitted with a cap, shined up like a diamond. The car already had hauling equipment. In many ways, it was literally the opposite of the Impala.
Sam took out his phone. He asked Dean to let him pick the car alone not because he wanted to duck his brother's snide remarks, although that was also true. He wanted to make a call in private without Cas's super-hearing nearby.
He dialed the number from the business card that Dodge had given him.
"Agent Gage," she said.
"Hi, Dodge? It's Sam Winchester."
"I'm glad you called."
"Look, I'm not promising anything, but I looked through those files you gave me, and I get it."
"You want to help?" she asked.
"Yeah, I guess." Sam paused. "Honestly, I'm not sure if I can trust you, and my brother wants nothing to do with any of this."
"I understand, trust takes time," Dodge replied. "But time is one thing I don't have."
"What?"
"There's something happening in Illinois. I've been trying to find something to make the case federal, but my boss shut me down."
"What's going on?"
"A series of strange murders in Springfield. General idea: someone goes crazy and kills off their family and pretty much anyone else nearby. Afterwards, it's like they don't know what's going on. So far, none of them are in any shape to do more than stutter and drool. Three in the last three months."
"Like I said, I can't promise anything," Sam said. "But I'll check it out and see what I can do."
"Sammy, you've done a lot of crazy crap in your time, but this," Dean said. "You're off the deep end."
"It was this or a minivan," Sam replied.
"I don't understand," Castiel commented. "This car seems adequately manly."
Sam laughed. "Thanks, I guess."
"Right, then, let's get haulin'," Dean said as he went to the Impala.
"I'm going to take her out for a spin," Sam replied. "Don't wait up for me, okay?"
Dean sized Sam up, wondering if he was hiding something. He decided he wasn't.
"Okay, have fun in your truck."
Amy Wilson sat in a locked room with full on straightjacket restraints.
"She's been incoherent and violent since we brought her in," said Dr. Craig Akins. "We haven't been able to get anything out of her."
Sam looked in on the woman. She muttered to herself, and her eyes darted around as if following something slithering through her room. When she went into a screaming fit, Craig pulled Sam away and shut the window.
"You said there were others?" Sam asked.
"Well, two others have come in just like this. One of them committed suicide about a week ago."
"Any signs of drugs or poison?"
The doctor shook his head. "All the tests came back clean. No response to treatment regimens."
"And this woman, she was caught attacking someone?" he asked.
"After she killed her husband and father, she went after a surgical nurse and a doctor," replied Craig.
"You know why?"
"No but the cops might be able to shed some light on that."
"Right. Thanks for your time."
Sam left the building and pulled his phone out by his car. "Dean," he said. "I think I've got a case out in Illinois."
"Seriously? You went for a spin and wound up with a case in Illinois? All right, it's gonna take me and Cas a few hours to get there," Dean replied. "I'll pack a bag and head out in ten."
"No, I've got it covered right now," Sam said. "I mean, maybe you can head out tomorrow."
"Yeah, that'll give me time to give Cas a few more firearm lessons."
"Both of you? Even better. See you sometime tomorrow," he said before he hung up.
Sam popped into his new pickup and headed for the closest motel.
POP! POP! POP! Three hits landed in the eight ring.
"This is useless," Cas complained. "I can't hit anything from this far."
"What're you talking about?" Dean shot back. "Look at your shots."
"They're not on the center ring like you wanted."
"No, but, look at them."
The angel did. All the hits landed right on top of each other, forming a single hole.
"What about it?" Cas asked.
"Okay, you're accuracy is medium, needs work," Dean explained as patiently as possible. "But your shots are precise."
"I don't understand."
Dean's patience evaporated. He said, "You shoot well, Cas. Hitting the center is just about practice, developing hand-eye coordination."
"You sound upset."
"I'm not upset," Dean seethed. "We've been at this for a few hours, and I need a break, that's all."
"You said I needed to train with both shotguns and handguns," Castiel said defensively. "And admittedly the handguns are more difficult for me - "
Dean put his hand on Cas's shoulder. He meant it to be a manly gesture, one of support, but Cas read it as a sign to stand down and slouched.
"Cas, you're doing great."
"You're just saying that to placate me."
"No, I'm not."
Tension built as Cas took the clip from the weapon.
"Don't do this," Dean started. "Cas - "
"It might be best to set aside time for me to train without your assistance," the angel interrupted.
"Now you're not being fair."
"I'm not being fair. How?"
"Because you're a freaking angel! You don't need to eat or rest or anything!"
"And you do." It was a statement.
Castiel understood.
"So when I say I need a break, that's all I mean," Deain said. "There is no hidden subtext or any of that crap."
"Perhaps you can find a way to tell me these things without raising your voice," Cas replied. His sharpness vibrated through Dean; he wasn't sure when that had started. Did he suddenly become more aware of Cas's smiting voice, or was this relationship crap? He hated that he didn't know.
"I'm... sorry," Dean said. But he wasn't sorry, just frustrated. "I'll try."
"You should eat something, and get some rest," Cas said. "You didn't even sleep four hours last night."
Dean bit back his urge to snap at Cas over things like his sleeping and eating. Part of him knew that having people care about that crap was a good thing, but another part of him squirmed at the thought of someone keeping tabs.
"You seem conflicted," Cas commented.
"What?"
"Your expression."
"Cas, I'm - "
The angel stole one of Dean's best moves. He swept in with a very close kiss. It was soft and a little wet, and at the end they were only inches apart.
"You're a good teacher, Dean, thank you."
Just like that, Dean felt better. He joked, "You really shouldn't kiss a guy with so many guns around, Cas."
The angel laughed, which Dean did not expect at all.
"We should pack these up for the road," Dean said. "Pick a few that you liked best."
"Where're we going?"
"Illinois, Sam found a case. We're heading out tomorrow."
It had taken them an entire day to angel-proof a room so that Cas could enter and exist freely but not have angel mojo while inside. The sigil Sam found worked, but its placement in the room had been difficult since any disturbance to its shape would render it useless. Eventually they lined it in the insulation, which mean that Cas would no longer have angel-power-hiccups, like exploding light bulbs during a make-out session or destroying most of Rufus's Cabin during sex. At last Dean and Cas had their 'Safe Sex' room up and running, and the elder Winchester would be damned if he didn't try it out tonight with Sam away.
Sam openly gawked at the sight of Cas in a cheap black suit.
"Is something wrong?" the angel asked. No matter what he wore, his stone-still composure read through the attire.
"No, just, I haven't seen you out of your trench coat," Sam said, then immediately regretted it.
Luckily Dean's retort was stifled by the approach of the coroner Hastings.
"Agents?" Hastings asked.
"Yes, Stills, Ward, and Colwell," Dean introduced. "We're here to see John Wilson and Richard Hammings."
The coroner led them into the morgue, but he stopped them outside the door.
"Oh, wait a second, Agents," he said quietly.
"What?" Dean asked. "Gotta head count limit?"
"A young man came in to identify his brother," he replied. "He's still in there. Do you mind if I take a minute and ask him to leave myself?"
"Seriously?" Dean remarked. "Is that really necessary?"
Hastings looked Dean right in the face and said, "The man just found out he lost his brother. I don't think having the FBI eject him from the room will make his life any easier."
"Of course, you're right. We'll be out here," Sam said.
Hastings stepped into the morgue.
"Sam and the doctor have a point, Dean. Empathy isn't your strong suit," the angel said.
"Sam's just defending the guy because if he was a death doctor he'd be just like him, all comforting and crap."
Sam saw what Dean meant. Hastings led a young, crying man with messy black hair out of the morgue, guiding him gently by the arm.
"I'm very sorry for your loss," he said. "We'll take good care of your brother's remains here."
After the crying man left the hall, which took far too long for Dean, they rolled into the morgue. Hastings pulled out two adjacent slabs. Both bodies were covered in stab wounds and long, deep gashes.
Hastings announced, "Cause of death exsanguination."
"I'd say," Sam said. "You ever seen anything like this before, doc?"
The coroner replied, "Only if you count urban legends."
"What legend?" Castiel asked.
"At the old hospital building, apparently there was some woman who killed like this. Frenzied slashes. The legend's got some name like Susie Slasher or something. Anyway, all the comic book illustrations look like this."
Sam nodded. "Thanks. Could you give us a minute?"
Hastings left.
"I don't sense any EMF," the angel said.
"They wouldn't have any, the ghost didn't possess them," Sam replied. "You getting anything at all, Cas?"
The angel shook his head. "Nothing nefarious, other than the murder." He paused. "Wait, there is something else."
"Enlighten us before Doctor Touchy Feely gets back," Dean said.
"Their brains are missing. All their other organs are in that refrigerator," Cas pointed to the dock across the room.
Sam shook his head. "No, they're just in solution. Standard autopsy practice."
"Okay, so I guess that means we're looking into Susie Slasher at the old hospital, then?" Dean asked.
"I'll head to the library. Can you and Cas check out the other two cases: Jason Harp and Trystan Madden?"
"Okay, go team," Dean replied dryly.
<<< Previous Part:
Part One: Hustler
Next Part: >>>
Part Three: Lady Luck
Primary Post: 09x03 Loaded Dice
Primary Post: Season 9 Fan Fiction (S9FF)
Title: Loaded Dice
Subtitle: Rattlesnake
Author: dracox-serdriel
Word count: 2,254
Rating: R
Warnings: language, violence, sexual innuendo
Dean dropped Sam off at a used car lot. Cas insisted that they leave the younger Winchester to find his own car, so they went for breakfast at a local diner.
After they ordered, Cas became very quiet and stared straight at Dean.
"Cas, I told you, the staring," Dean said.
"Tell me about your dream," Cas said.
"What?"
"The dream you had last night, the one Sam and I had to wake you from. What was it about?"
"I don't really remember it," he replied. "Honestly, I don't. It was messed up, you woke me up, no big deal."
"I had to slap your face, hard, more than three times, Dean," the angel insisted.
The waiter stopped and looked abjectly at him and froze, still balancing Dean's bacon sausage muffin on and Cas's bacon and eggs on her arm. She stood like that for a solid minute.
"To wake him from a bad dream," Cas explained to her finally.
"Oh, right, sorry," she said quickly as she set down their breakfast. "Didn't mean to make a fuss, me. Not my business. Enjoy, yeah?"
With that, she rushed off to another table.
"It shouldn't be that difficult to wake you from sleep," Cas continued.
"I'm a deep sleeper."
"During normal REM sleep, a human can't - "
" - don't start with that stuff, Cas!"
"I'm concerned that what you had was not a dream," the angel explained. "Tell me about it."
Dean almost dropped his sausage. "What the hell else could it be?"
"When angels visit humans in their dreams, sometimes they can hold them in that state, stop them from waking up."
"You think an angel was doing this to me?"
"Angels aren't the only creatures that can do it. That is why you need to tell me its contents."
"It was just Crowley being all menacing, okay?"
Cas awkwardly put his hand on Dean's from across the table, but Dean liked it anyway.
"Promise me you'll tell me if you have another like it."
"Cas - "
"Promise me," he insisted. His blue eyes were steely blue and serious.
"Fine. I promise. Can we eat now?"
Cas smiled and started eating. The angel enjoyed food. It was one of the few things that didn't bother him about being a little more human in the field.
Sam wanted to buy the '69 Dodge Charger. It needed some fixing up, but it would give the Impala a run for its money.
Unfortunately, his mind nagged him about its practicality. Having two easily identified cars wouldn't be strategic, and it would make far more sense to purchase a more inconspicuous vehicle.
That's how he came to the truck and minivan section of the lot. A '91 Black Dodge Ram caught his eye: two door, fitted with a cap, shined up like a diamond. The car already had hauling equipment. In many ways, it was literally the opposite of the Impala.
Sam took out his phone. He asked Dean to let him pick the car alone not because he wanted to duck his brother's snide remarks, although that was also true. He wanted to make a call in private without Cas's super-hearing nearby.
He dialed the number from the business card that Dodge had given him.
"Agent Gage," she said.
"Hi, Dodge? It's Sam Winchester."
"I'm glad you called."
"Look, I'm not promising anything, but I looked through those files you gave me, and I get it."
"You want to help?" she asked.
"Yeah, I guess." Sam paused. "Honestly, I'm not sure if I can trust you, and my brother wants nothing to do with any of this."
"I understand, trust takes time," Dodge replied. "But time is one thing I don't have."
"What?"
"There's something happening in Illinois. I've been trying to find something to make the case federal, but my boss shut me down."
"What's going on?"
"A series of strange murders in Springfield. General idea: someone goes crazy and kills off their family and pretty much anyone else nearby. Afterwards, it's like they don't know what's going on. So far, none of them are in any shape to do more than stutter and drool. Three in the last three months."
"Like I said, I can't promise anything," Sam said. "But I'll check it out and see what I can do."
"Sammy, you've done a lot of crazy crap in your time, but this," Dean said. "You're off the deep end."
"It was this or a minivan," Sam replied.
"I don't understand," Castiel commented. "This car seems adequately manly."
Sam laughed. "Thanks, I guess."
"Right, then, let's get haulin'," Dean said as he went to the Impala.
"I'm going to take her out for a spin," Sam replied. "Don't wait up for me, okay?"
Dean sized Sam up, wondering if he was hiding something. He decided he wasn't.
"Okay, have fun in your truck."
Amy Wilson sat in a locked room with full on straightjacket restraints.
"She's been incoherent and violent since we brought her in," said Dr. Craig Akins. "We haven't been able to get anything out of her."
Sam looked in on the woman. She muttered to herself, and her eyes darted around as if following something slithering through her room. When she went into a screaming fit, Craig pulled Sam away and shut the window.
"You said there were others?" Sam asked.
"Well, two others have come in just like this. One of them committed suicide about a week ago."
"Any signs of drugs or poison?"
The doctor shook his head. "All the tests came back clean. No response to treatment regimens."
"And this woman, she was caught attacking someone?" he asked.
"After she killed her husband and father, she went after a surgical nurse and a doctor," replied Craig.
"You know why?"
"No but the cops might be able to shed some light on that."
"Right. Thanks for your time."
Sam left the building and pulled his phone out by his car. "Dean," he said. "I think I've got a case out in Illinois."
"Seriously? You went for a spin and wound up with a case in Illinois? All right, it's gonna take me and Cas a few hours to get there," Dean replied. "I'll pack a bag and head out in ten."
"No, I've got it covered right now," Sam said. "I mean, maybe you can head out tomorrow."
"Yeah, that'll give me time to give Cas a few more firearm lessons."
"Both of you? Even better. See you sometime tomorrow," he said before he hung up.
Sam popped into his new pickup and headed for the closest motel.
POP! POP! POP! Three hits landed in the eight ring.
"This is useless," Cas complained. "I can't hit anything from this far."
"What're you talking about?" Dean shot back. "Look at your shots."
"They're not on the center ring like you wanted."
"No, but, look at them."
The angel did. All the hits landed right on top of each other, forming a single hole.
"What about it?" Cas asked.
"Okay, you're accuracy is medium, needs work," Dean explained as patiently as possible. "But your shots are precise."
"I don't understand."
Dean's patience evaporated. He said, "You shoot well, Cas. Hitting the center is just about practice, developing hand-eye coordination."
"You sound upset."
"I'm not upset," Dean seethed. "We've been at this for a few hours, and I need a break, that's all."
"You said I needed to train with both shotguns and handguns," Castiel said defensively. "And admittedly the handguns are more difficult for me - "
Dean put his hand on Cas's shoulder. He meant it to be a manly gesture, one of support, but Cas read it as a sign to stand down and slouched.
"Cas, you're doing great."
"You're just saying that to placate me."
"No, I'm not."
Tension built as Cas took the clip from the weapon.
"Don't do this," Dean started. "Cas - "
"It might be best to set aside time for me to train without your assistance," the angel interrupted.
"Now you're not being fair."
"I'm not being fair. How?"
"Because you're a freaking angel! You don't need to eat or rest or anything!"
"And you do." It was a statement.
Castiel understood.
"So when I say I need a break, that's all I mean," Deain said. "There is no hidden subtext or any of that crap."
"Perhaps you can find a way to tell me these things without raising your voice," Cas replied. His sharpness vibrated through Dean; he wasn't sure when that had started. Did he suddenly become more aware of Cas's smiting voice, or was this relationship crap? He hated that he didn't know.
"I'm... sorry," Dean said. But he wasn't sorry, just frustrated. "I'll try."
"You should eat something, and get some rest," Cas said. "You didn't even sleep four hours last night."
Dean bit back his urge to snap at Cas over things like his sleeping and eating. Part of him knew that having people care about that crap was a good thing, but another part of him squirmed at the thought of someone keeping tabs.
"You seem conflicted," Cas commented.
"What?"
"Your expression."
"Cas, I'm - "
The angel stole one of Dean's best moves. He swept in with a very close kiss. It was soft and a little wet, and at the end they were only inches apart.
"You're a good teacher, Dean, thank you."
Just like that, Dean felt better. He joked, "You really shouldn't kiss a guy with so many guns around, Cas."
The angel laughed, which Dean did not expect at all.
"We should pack these up for the road," Dean said. "Pick a few that you liked best."
"Where're we going?"
"Illinois, Sam found a case. We're heading out tomorrow."
It had taken them an entire day to angel-proof a room so that Cas could enter and exist freely but not have angel mojo while inside. The sigil Sam found worked, but its placement in the room had been difficult since any disturbance to its shape would render it useless. Eventually they lined it in the insulation, which mean that Cas would no longer have angel-power-hiccups, like exploding light bulbs during a make-out session or destroying most of Rufus's Cabin during sex. At last Dean and Cas had their 'Safe Sex' room up and running, and the elder Winchester would be damned if he didn't try it out tonight with Sam away.
Sam openly gawked at the sight of Cas in a cheap black suit.
"Is something wrong?" the angel asked. No matter what he wore, his stone-still composure read through the attire.
"No, just, I haven't seen you out of your trench coat," Sam said, then immediately regretted it.
Luckily Dean's retort was stifled by the approach of the coroner Hastings.
"Agents?" Hastings asked.
"Yes, Stills, Ward, and Colwell," Dean introduced. "We're here to see John Wilson and Richard Hammings."
The coroner led them into the morgue, but he stopped them outside the door.
"Oh, wait a second, Agents," he said quietly.
"What?" Dean asked. "Gotta head count limit?"
"A young man came in to identify his brother," he replied. "He's still in there. Do you mind if I take a minute and ask him to leave myself?"
"Seriously?" Dean remarked. "Is that really necessary?"
Hastings looked Dean right in the face and said, "The man just found out he lost his brother. I don't think having the FBI eject him from the room will make his life any easier."
"Of course, you're right. We'll be out here," Sam said.
Hastings stepped into the morgue.
"Sam and the doctor have a point, Dean. Empathy isn't your strong suit," the angel said.
"Sam's just defending the guy because if he was a death doctor he'd be just like him, all comforting and crap."
Sam saw what Dean meant. Hastings led a young, crying man with messy black hair out of the morgue, guiding him gently by the arm.
"I'm very sorry for your loss," he said. "We'll take good care of your brother's remains here."
After the crying man left the hall, which took far too long for Dean, they rolled into the morgue. Hastings pulled out two adjacent slabs. Both bodies were covered in stab wounds and long, deep gashes.
Hastings announced, "Cause of death exsanguination."
"I'd say," Sam said. "You ever seen anything like this before, doc?"
The coroner replied, "Only if you count urban legends."
"What legend?" Castiel asked.
"At the old hospital building, apparently there was some woman who killed like this. Frenzied slashes. The legend's got some name like Susie Slasher or something. Anyway, all the comic book illustrations look like this."
Sam nodded. "Thanks. Could you give us a minute?"
Hastings left.
"I don't sense any EMF," the angel said.
"They wouldn't have any, the ghost didn't possess them," Sam replied. "You getting anything at all, Cas?"
The angel shook his head. "Nothing nefarious, other than the murder." He paused. "Wait, there is something else."
"Enlighten us before Doctor Touchy Feely gets back," Dean said.
"Their brains are missing. All their other organs are in that refrigerator," Cas pointed to the dock across the room.
Sam shook his head. "No, they're just in solution. Standard autopsy practice."
"Okay, so I guess that means we're looking into Susie Slasher at the old hospital, then?" Dean asked.
"I'll head to the library. Can you and Cas check out the other two cases: Jason Harp and Trystan Madden?"
"Okay, go team," Dean replied dryly.
<<< Previous Part:
Part One: Hustler
Next Part: >>>
Part Three: Lady Luck
Primary Post: 09x03 Loaded Dice
Primary Post: Season 9 Fan Fiction (S9FF)