The Hunters Gather -prt 1
THE HUNTERS GATHER
It was the demon Meg and her shenanigans which drew the attention of Bobby and the Winchesters to Boston. Bobby had been contacted by some hunters he knew in Maine and from what they reported, it sounded like Meg had found herself as a willing accomplice to a man known only as Conrad. Bobby’s sources were a little hazy on the details, but whatever was happening was going down at the Mossman Research Facility just north of Boston.
Dean and Sam went ahead of Bobby and set up base at The Ashford Motel on the outskirts of town. They registered as Vanda and Young and within an hour, found themselves joined by Bobby’s contacts. Two Bob and Skinny were their names and they reminded Dean of Laurel and Hardy, both in physicality and personality.
Sam was impressed at the amount of information they had gathered, not only on Conrad and Mossman Research Facility, but the military base attached to it. It turned out there was a personal connection to the base.
“Skinny’s sister's got a boy in them barracks. Good kid, like to have him hunting, but she won’t have it. Banned Skinny from family gatherings ‘cause he knows,” Two Bob was saying. Skinny just nodded.
“It’s okay though, seen him a couple times, when he’s on leave but can’t go home. He don’t know I’m family and that’s the way it works. Anyhoo, he don’t like being there since Conrad and his cronies took over. Says the man’s got a bad vibe about him. He says there’s something going on in Block C that don’t seem right. Don’t seem American,” Skinny said and took another swig of beer.
“Can he get us into this Block C?” Dean asked.
“Nope. He’s missing,” Two Bob said. “Nears we can tell, they got him in Block C.”
“And Block C’s where they do R&D?” Sam asked looking up from the notes Two Bob and Skinny had given him.
“Yep, used to be the hospital but they moved that. Think it was after 9/11,” Skinny said and drained the last of his beer.
“We’ll be goin’ then,” he said, getting up. Two Bob did the same. “We’ll keep watch till you two decide what to do. We got your back.”
They left. Dean waited until he heard the rumble of their Ford truck leave, then turned to Sam.
Dean ran his fingers through his hair. The phone rang and he answered it. It was Bobby. He had more information on Conrad and a few good theories about why he was happy to let his base and personal be used to research guinea-pigs.
“Damn it!” Dean snapped the phone shut and turned towards Sam. “Bobby thinks that Conrad and Meg are working together. Conrad’s background in intelligence and military ties would be something Lucifer would want. Great, just what we need. Trained hell spawn.”
“Bobby say anything else? Anything helpful?” Sam asked.
“Nope,” Dean said and grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, tossing one to Sam.
***
Skinny got a call from Det. Grayson, Boston PD. She wanted him to follow a couple of people and see what they were up to; the usual P.I. gig he’d done for her a couple times in the past. The only difference was that this time it was the Winchesters he was supposed to track and another couple. Both interested in the case of a deceased homeless man.
Skinny didn’t bother with Sam or Dean and focused instead on the other couple. It took him a little under a day to find out their angle. Partly because he was good at his job and partly because they used the same bar as he and other hunters frequented, McRory’s.
McRory had been a hunter and when his body got too old to fight, he’d opened the bar. Succeeding McRory heirs had kept the business rolling and while the clientele might be better dressed these days, it was still known as a hunters' bar.
Two Bob was a regular. He was an electrician by trade with an obsession for Bond films and electronic gadgets. Over the years he’d garnered a reputation as the go-to man for surveillance equipment within the hunting community and Boston underworld.
Skinny asked Two Bob to bug the area where his couple and their associates preferred to sit. In this way, he learned that they were grifters planning a con that would inadvertently place them on Conrad’s radar.
Which is what he reported back to Dean and Sam when he met up with them later at The Ashford Motel.
“They know about Conrad? I mean, his connections to Meg? They know anything about Meg?” Dean asked Skinny, flicking through the file he’d given them about Nate Ford and his merry men.
“Nope. Not hunters, conmen, the long-haired one, Spencer Spencer, he’s ex-army or something military. Got no time for people who use veterans, or soldiers, as cannon fodder and political ambition. Reckon it’s him that tipped Nate’s hand,” Skinny said.
“What about this Nate Ford? Any chance he’d cooperate?” Sam asked.
“No way, we’re not going down that road again, Sammy. Always ends in trouble.” Dean scowled at Sam. “When has working with civilians ever gone right? Plus, according to Skinny, they’re working with the law. Hunting and Law don’t go together. Hunting and Civilians don’t go together, no matter how useful to us they might be. No bait.”
“Dean? You think I’d go there?” Sam looked incredulously at his brother. “Since when, in the years we’ve been hunting together, have I ever put a civilian life purposely in danger? I do know the difference between someone possessed and civilian.”
Skinny listened to the exchange with detached interest, he figured there was a whole other story behind the words. Probably ugly, if one believed all the stories about the Winchesters, but right now there was work to do and getting side-tracked wasn’t an option.
“Not to interrupt the brotherly moment, but, A; Ford’s all about justice first and foremost and, B; unless your guys' definition of hunting is different from mine, trouble’s a given,” Skinny pointed out.
Sam was still glaring at Dean, but Skinny did have a point. Dean’s lips twitching into a smile told him his brother was in agreement.
“Yeah, Skinny, trouble’s a given.” Dean looked at the hunter. “What else you got?”
“That’s it. Got a number where you can contact Ford. McRory’s bar is where you’ll usually find them. It’s cool, welcomes all kinds, even us lot. Anyway, Two Bob and me got a hunt lined up; Banshee running loose round Belfast. Back in a couple of days, knock on wood,” Skinny rapped the tabletop with his knuckles as he got up.
“Figures. Plastic. Right! Before I forget, Two Bob gave me these, said you might find ‘em useful.” Skinny threw a couple ear-pieces on the table along with a transmitter-receiver and antenna booster. “Ford uses this stuff for his team. Can’t tell you how it works, but Two Bob reckons Sam’d figure it out. Catch'a later.” And, with that, he left their room.
Sam picked up the gear, examining it with interest. He looked up when Dean started laughing. “What’s so funny?” he asked. “Those two, they’re pretty cool. Two Bob reminds me a bit of Ronnie Resnik and Skinny’s like Garth, minus the goofball,” Dean answered.
“Ronnie? Yeah, I don’t see that. He knows his stuff, this is military spec, Dean,” Sam said. After a long pause he added, “Think he’s at peace?”
“Who? Ronnie? I don’t know. Bloody well should be, he was a good man.” Dean’s attention was on the ear-piece as he replied. He still felt bad about Ronnie’s death. Sam didn’t push when he saw Dean’s focus drift off into the past. It was an expression he was all too familiar with. Whatever memory was giving Dean a respite from the constant state of strife they found themselves in, Sam wasn’t going to begrudge him.
Dean re-focused on the case at hand. “Think I’ll check out the homeless shelter. Keep an eye on this Spencer man,” he said.
“Mmm, think we should drop by McRory’s first and see who else is in this con?” Sam asked absent-mindedly.
“Who are you and what have you done with my Sammy?” Dean asked, Sam suggesting a bar hop was almost unheard of, especially as of late.
“Bite me,” Sam retorted easily as he made his way to the door.
“Nah, don’t like salad,” Dean shot back grabbing his coat on the way out.
***
Dean and Sam slipped unnoticed into McRory’s and took a table near the back exit. They had a good view of the bar without being obvious, just the way they liked it. The barman gave them a look that told them he knew they were Hunters and not to cause any grief. Sam sidled up the bar and ordered while Dean watched Nate Ford. While Nate and his man Spencer were talking, another man and two women joined them.
Sam came back from the bar with two pints. He and Dean were using the ear-pieces Two Bob had given them and after some minor adjustments on the receiver, found the frequency Ford's group's used and followed their conversation.
“Hardison and I will get him close to Zilgram. Spencer, you’ll cover the homeless vet angle and Parker you get us into wherever they’re holding the experiment. Okay?” Ford was saying. The others nodded and the Sophie spoke, “So I’m just twiddling my thumbs?”
“No, my dear, Carla Crim is going back to Det. Grayson and get her to let you play policewoman,” Nate said with a smile.
“Sometimes Nate, you are a real pain in the backside,” Sophie pouted then got up and left.
“Something else we should know?” Spencer asked suspiciously.
“No. We’ll need the good detective's assistance when we take Zilgram down and you said yourself that Sophie was more her type. She’ll be fine,” Nate said.
“Hmm, fine, well, I’ll go do what I do. You do what you do,” Spencer said and left.
“Right, kids, time to go to school,” Nate said and made his way to their Headquarters, Hardison and Parker followed.
“Better grab your books and follow that Hardison, let me know what you find” Dean said to Sam.
“Guess that means you're down on your luck?” Sam replied.
“Aren’t we all?” Dean said and followed Spencer out of the bar. prt 2