spnxdf: Lost Sons Chapter 5
Karrin Murphy blinked owlishly at Dresden from across the table.
“You. Where. In. Carthage?” She said, setting her fork and knife down with her half eaten steak dinner. Harry thought of it as a waste of perfectly good steak and wished they could have this conversation after he had consumed several more beers.
Harry began to swallow what he was already eating when he became rather aware of the number of people milling around Mac’s pub that were now suspiciously quiet and glancing in their general direction. It was a rather large turn out for Tuesday evening and the wizard wondered if the rumblings in the mortal world (a terrorist attack with no one stepping up to claim it for themselves…or the new one now…a mass suicide) and the supernatural world about Carthage had something to do with it.
“Karrin, can you keep your voice down?” Harry pleaded.
Murphy stared at him. “Dresden! You just told me you spent your weekend in Carthage!” She disregarded his request for discretion. Now everyone in the pub was listening to their conversation. “Why where you there?”
Harry sighed in dismay and tightened his drip on his steak knife. He turned his head and mustered up his best ‘Scary Warden’ look . . .which was probably an attempt to glare like the late Donald Morgan. As his gaze swept the room, the patrons of McAnally’s turned away from their conversation and quickly went back to minding their own business.
“Yes. I was in Carthage. Yes. It is related to magic. Is this bad? According to Bob he wants me to whisk you and Molly into the hills and prepare to repopulate the Earth.” The wizard replied.
It took Murphy a moment to process the rapid fire response before swiftly kicking him in the shin from under the table. While Dresden grimaced, the officer shook her head. “You could have said something sooner!”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.” Harry hissed through his teeth. “I have been elbow deep in evidence and research since I came back. You think I want to sit here over the best hot dinner I’ve had in weeks and talk about the frozen dead bodies of women and children?” He looked down at his plate grimly and pushed aside the perfectly good cut of meat with a sour frown.
That was apparently enough of a cue for Mac to arrive and put fresh beer on the table. Harry nodded at him in thanks and took a long draw from his. Murphy picked at the label as she waited for him to come around from his sudden change in mood.
“I’m sorry.” She said.
“Bob’s still working out the details but he is certain that something strolled into the town and used all of its population for a summoning ritual. I left him looking through a few grimores, but he is sure there is nothing in them can touch this.” Harry began. “Elaine is getting all sorts of information from the Paranet…and checking her records for some possible psychic being in the area.”
Murphy frowned. “Got a name?”
“From the registration papers of a wagon loaded up to fight a supernatural World War III.” Harry reached into his duster and held out a piece of paper. “Thought you might be able to check the plates with the state police and get me an idea who this woman is.”
The sergeant nodded slowly and took the paper. “What else was there?”
“Besides the bodies?” Harry said dryly. “I got what looks like some sort of circle made from fire…and a blown up warehouse with two bodies and the corpses of some Hellhounds.”
Murphy’s eyes flicked up from the paper. “Not Jar-”
“Not Kincaid.” Harry interrupted her. “This was the house pet version of him. Distant cousin. Looks like whoever blew themselves up got mauled by one of these things. We’re not sure yet if it might be connected to the possible practitioner who preformed the ritual or one of the locals trying to escape.”
She let out a slow breath and nodded. “I’ll take a look then.” After a few moments the officer pushed her neglected beer across the table to sit next to the now empty one Harry was holding.
----
“Harvelle is a hunter.” Elaine voice was laced with a sort of contempt. “I called around to some of the other Paranet members in the area and those that didn’t hang up on me told me the whole family’s in the business.”
Harry frowned, bringing his notes closer to him. “What is a hunter?” He shouldered the phone and picked up a pencil.
“The mortal equivalent of a Warden. Regular folk who found out that the supernatural world is real and decided to do something about it. Only their idea of dealing with it is to kill everything that isn’t human.” It was definitely contempt in Elaine’s voice now.
“So Ellen’s one of them?”
“She ran a bar called Harvelle’s Roadhouse in Nebraska that burned down almost four years ago. It was a haunt for hunters all over the country. Husband was a hunter and there was something about a daughter. I started hearing about these hunters when we started the Paranet. We make it a point to warn others to avoid regions of the States that have high concentrations of them.”
Harry glanced down at his scrawl. “Guess one of these hunters found something interesting in Carthage. Doesn’t look like they made it out alive.” He found himself writing down next to Ellen’s name ‘Hardware Store victim?’ and pushing his notebook aside. “What else you know?”
“Starting back about the time this bar in Nebraska burned down, there was some sort of purge in the hunting community. A couple of them died in the bar fire. The rest have been picked off by the dozens in the years following. The last big purge was about…a little over a year ago…” Papers rustled in the background. “Late September 2008. Around the same time a few very angry spirits mauled a number of our psychics. Nobody knew what set them off but it lasted about two or three days.”
Harry nodded slowly. “You think they are connected?”
“I couldn’t care less about what happens to hunters.” Elaine said and hung up.
----
Sam heard the phone vibrating across the top of the nightstand. He groaned, loudly, hoping that someone else beside him would get it. As it kept vibrating, making that plastic jarring against compressed wood noise, the younger brother growled into his pillow.
“Dean…”
“Not my phone, bitch.” Dean mumbled distantly from across the room. Sam huffed as he finally pushed himself up and looked. It was indeed his phone causing the distress. He thought for sure it was Dean’s, since the vibration had caused the cell to navigate itself towards Dean’s side of the nightstand dividing the two beds.
He started to reach for it when a hand intercepted. Sam flicked his hair back from his face to see Castiel holding the phone open. The buzzing had stopped but now the angel stared at the device, utterly perplexed.
“Sam, I believe your phone is defective.” The angel concluded.
“It was the alarm Cas.” Dean grumbled. He rolled over and blinked groggily up at the trench coat clad seraphim. “Sam set the alarm…because he thinks we need to be up and moving at six am.” The hunter reached out and took the phone from Castiel and after a moment of fidgeting with it, flicked it across the room at his brother.
Sam shielded his face from the oncoming projectile while Castiel frowned at the information.
“These devices can also be used as a means to wake someone?”
“Yeah.” Sam replied sitting up and taking his phone from where it landed in the folds of the comforter. Dean had decidedly flopped back into bed and had his back at the two of them while they talked. “Can take pictures, keep a calendar with dates, play music…” Sam’s brow knitted together as he tried to use his phone.
“Dean!” He called in frustration.
“Mmm.”
“You locked my keypad!” Sam snapped.
“Want some cheese with that whine?” Dean mumbled. “Fix it yourself geek-boy.”
Sam scowled at his brother. “What are you? Ten?”
“I do believe Dean is thirty.” Castiel corrected, stepping back between the two beds to sit on the rollaway that had been brought into the room for him. Both brothers were certain that the angel hadn’t use the bed at all and remained up the entire night. While Sam glared at the seraphim, he took stock of his current condition. So far all that was left of his injuries as the gauze taped to the side of his neck and the distinct shape through the white dress shirt of the tape and bandages crisscrossing Jimmy’s chest and waist. Castiel still moved with a certain stiffness that came with someone blessed with cracked ribs.
Sam threw his phone back at Dean, this time actually swinging to cause injury. The phone collided with Dean’s exposed shoulder and hit with a satisfying smack of plastic against flesh. The older hunter hissed at him in return.
“Fix my phone, jerk.” Sam groused as he climbed out of bed and started to rifle through his bags for clean clothes “Just for that, I’m going to the meeting with Lt. Murphy and you can sit in a cold car and stake out the wizard’s office.”
Dean shot up. “Hey!”
“I’ll try to leave you some hot water.” Sam announced and slammed the bathroom door shut.
Castiel regarded the door before turning to look at Dean. “I do not believe he appreciated your prank.”
Dean glowered at him, finding the phone and pressing several buttons. “It wasn’t like I made the password that hard.” He muttered, finishing his work and slamming it down on the nightstand.
----
“It wasn’t that hard.” Dean muttered, watching his breath fog in front of him. He sighed and finally reached for the thermos, unscrewing the cap and pouring steaming soup into the cup. As an afterthought, he turned and offered the rest to the man sitting next to him. Castiel raised his hand in a polite decline.
“You need it for yourself.” He said after a moment.
Dean shoved it at him again. “Gabriel said you were going to need to start doing more human things now. You can’t just keep mojoing Jimmy’s needs away from him.” He declared. “So suck it up and feed the poor bastard.”
Castiel looked at the thermos again and finally accepted it. Dean watched with earnest as the angel contemplated the opening, billowing a pleasant steam into the interior of the chilly Impala, before bringing it to his lips and sipping at it experimentally.
“Well?” Dean asked, finally having some himself.
Castiel frowned at it. “This is a curious drink. It is thick and…a little acidic.” His eyes narrowed at the contents and then at Dean’s cup. “It is also red. What is it?”
“Tomato soup.” Dean said with a smirk. He reached around and plucked a package out of a drug store bag from the backseat. “Here.” He handed the angel a package of saltine crackers. “Best substitute to grilled cheese. Eat these and wash them down.” He instructed and turned his attention back to the street.
They were parked on the edge of an intersection, kiddy corner from the office building that according to the ad was the office of Wizard Harry Dresden. Castiel had done him the service of sweeping the building, locating the office on the corner of the fourth floor overlooking the intersection. The angel reported back that the wizard was currently in his office and working.
Castiel munched on the crackers, noisily at first. “How do you…grill cheese?” He asked, mouth full of saltines. “Would it not melt?”
Dean managed to suppress his amusement into a few short puffs of air through his nose. “It’s a sandwich Cas. You butter some bread and put the cheese in the middle. As you toast the bread, the cheese melts.”
“Interesting.” The angel said, taking a long pull from the thermos. “Would you like me to check on Sam?”
“Sam’s fine.” Dean said quietly, focusing his attention on the building in front of them. “If there is anyone who can handle talking to a cop, it’s Sam.” He sighed and did his best to hide his nervousness by continuing to eat lunch.
They remained in silence, chilled, and finishing their lunch until Castiel finally broke out with a confession.
“I never found pleasure in surveillance.” He said. “It is very tedious work.”
“Yes it is.” Dean admitted, letting the steam from the soup warm his cold cheeks and nose.
----
Between Bobby and Detective McBain’s efforts, they had managed to get a meeting with Sergeant Karrin Murphy. Sam had decided to put on a good front, dressing up in his best suit, and offering to meet Murphy in any restaurant of her choosing. He took the public bus out to the address he had been given.
Turns out, Murphy wanted to meet in a pub.
Sam found McAnally’s with little difficulty, walking briskly through the cold morning across a fairly bare parking lot. Most of the cars sitting there were old and rather well used, he noted. The only car in the whole lot was a fairly pristine Saturn that was parked in one of the spaces closest to the entrance of the pub.
The hunter took one last deep breath of cold air, hoping that this meeting with the local law enforcement was going to go off better than their last attempts to extend the olive branch. He stepped into the pub, feeling a wall of hot air, smelling sweetly of the local fare and the smoke of a well tended to fire, blow past him as he entered and closed the door.
Sam started to turn, taking in the layout of the pub. Per their father’s teachings, he always made himself aware of their surroundings. How many exits were there? Where are they? Where would an enemy most likely be? How many people are in the room and just how much of the room can be turned into a fortification should you become trapped there?
That was when Sam realized in his mental visualization of the pub…that this place was not your standard establishment for good food and beer.
There were 13 pillars, each carved with intricate designs. That was the first thing that stood out to him, because all it took was one glance at the carvings to realize they significant to warding magic. There were also 13 tables scattered about, 13 windows, and 13 stools at the bar itself. Ceiling fans spun around lazily and a fire crackled in a harth, warming the room.
This place was designed to keep magic at bay.
Sam turned his attention to the bar and found the barkeep eying him curiously while washing some glasses. A plack stood out distinctly that read in engraved letters “Accorded Neutral Ground”. It took a second for him to make out the rest of the fine print, but apparently this place was neutral ground under the laws of the Unseelie Accords that Castiel had mentioned.
The hunter couldn’t help but gawk.
“Thought it be appropriate to meet on some level ground.” A woman’s voice spoke up above the casual din of the pub. Sam tore his eyes away from the room and found that the speaker was a woman sitting the closest to him at the bar. She had shoulder-length blond hair, a cute nose, and blue eyes. Her outfit was both professional and yet casual. The only quirk that the hunter could make out was the Cubs jersey jacket hanging off the back of her seat.
Sam collected himself. “Sergeant Murphy?” He asked.
The woman smiled and slipped out of her seat. “Murphy.” She extended a hand to him. Sam resisted and failed at trying not to smile at the woman’s short stature. He easily stood a foot and half above her.
“Sam Winchester.” Sam offered.
Out of the corner of his eye, the bald and overwhelming presence of the barkeep became incredibly still. The level of noise in the pub also drifted into an eerie silence.
The sound of Sam swallowing was probably the loudest sound in the whole room.
“Let’s have a seat.” Murphy said, more cheery than anyone had probably expected. She picked up her coat and her glass from the bar and led the way to one of the tables on into the middle of the room. They took a seat and after a moment of getting settled, the barkeep appeared and set down a similar glass in front of the hunter and a pitch of water between the two of them. A bowl of peanuts and salty popcorn followed in its wake.
Sam eyed the water set before him, unsure if it was wise to be consuming anything. He was a hunter, having just walked into a local supernatural haunt.
“Mac’s not going to poison you.” Murphy said, pouring more water into her half drank glass and taking a sip. “He keeps a shotgun under the bar though.”
Sam chuckled nervously and then poured himself a glass as well.
“So.” Murphy sat back and cast a calculated over Sam. “I have to admit, you clean up well for a guy McBain described as being scruffy looking.”
Sam smiled. “Well, I didn’t want to give you any bad impressions. Our first meeting with McBain wasn’t exactly ideal.”
“So I’ve been told.” The officer said. “I’m impressed that you actually decided to contact someone in the authorities before running half cocked through my city. Don’t you…have a brother?” Murphy asked, her eyes narrowing slightly in speculation.
“He’s busy right now.” Sam replied. “Our car was acting up when we came into the city last night, he went to go get it check out.”
Murphy stared at him hard. “Lying through your teeth doesn’t make us friends Sam.” She said, picking up her glass and taking a sip.
Crap. Sam thought, finding the wood grain of the table very interesting. He sighed and thinned his lips.
“What brings you to Chicago, Mr. Winchester?” Murphy decided to get to the point, though her expression was starting to look a little more business and less friendly. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not aware that there may or may not have been hunters in the city before but I have to say…this is the first one has ever come right out and told me. And while I appreciate being on notice, I am not about to let you go running through my city raising all sorts of hell or a body count.”
“No, Ma’am.” Sam nodded. “We’re not looking to cause any trouble.”
“Good.” Murphy nodded. “So lets hear it.”
Sam reached into his messenger bag and pulled out the neatly folded yellow page from the phonebook. “My brother and I are looking for this man.” He laid the document on the table and pointed to Dresden’s ad.
He watched her carefully. Sure enough, as well as Murphy tried to hide it, the way her lips thinned as she looked at the ad was all Sam needed to see. Murphy knew who Dresden was, even if she tried to pretend not to.
Murphy looked up at Sam. “Why?”
Sam frowned slightly. “I…I would rather not say.” He said. “Our business with the wizard is our own and I’m afraid we can’t afford the risk of others knowing why.” Because the last thing we need is for anyone to know we have come for these swords. Sam added in his mind.
“I don’t like the sounds of that.” Sergeant Murphy said.
Sam couldn’t offer her anything better. “I’m sorry. If I could tell you why we want to see him, I would…but I think it is best for everyone if we maintained a level of secrecy.”
Murphy sat back in her chair again and crossed her arms over her chest. She stared down at the ad for a minute and then focused her attention on Sam. The officer then turned to her coat and produced a similar folded white piece of paper and set it down on top of the ad.
“I hope you don’t mind me changing the topic…but I just had a thought.” Murphy stated. “I only learned a great deal of hunters in my phone call with McBain this morning and she told me a lot about what you and your brother do. Your father too.” She smoothed out the document. “I’ve got something here that might concern you.”
Sam sat forward and looked at the offered document. It was a copy of a vehicle registration and a print out of a driver’s license.
Ellen’s kind face stared back at him from her license.
“You heard about Carthage, yes?” Murphy asked. “A couple of…investigators found a car on site with a great deal of occult weapons and materials inside of it.”
Sam felt as if something had kicked him in the gut. He couldn’t bring himself to breath as Murphy flipped the page of the document, which was a list of the contents of Ellen’s car with several symbols drawn in the margins.
“A lot of people are dead down there. And this woman was in the middle of it.” Murphy said. “There are people trying to figure out what happened there and I want to know if she was one of yours. If you know anything about Carthage and you start being honest with me, I might reconsider running you and your brother out of my city.”
Sam couldn’t think. He didn’t realize he had picked the first page of the report and was holding it, looking at Ellen’s picture. It was the only one he had seen after Bobby had burned the photograph taken the night before they had all gone to Carthage to kill the Devil. All the emotions he had been trying to hold back, because of Dean’s stupid repression and his own guilt, brought every thought in his mind to a screeching halt.
He could still feel the warmth of the fire. He could still hear deafening boom of the explosion in his ears, making them ring. If he had been standing, Sam was sure he could probably feel the phantom sensation of the earth quaking as he had watched Ellen and Jo blow themselves to kingdom come.
Murphy reached out and snatched the file out of his hand. “Tell your brother to get his car fixed and get out of my city.” She ordered, stuffing the documents into her coat. As an afterthought, she flicked a white business card onto the table, landing it smack in the middle of the yellow page ad. “Should you change you mind, that is the number I can be reached at. But if I so much as lay eyes on you again before that and I will arrest you.”
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“You. Where. In. Carthage?” She said, setting her fork and knife down with her half eaten steak dinner. Harry thought of it as a waste of perfectly good steak and wished they could have this conversation after he had consumed several more beers.
Harry began to swallow what he was already eating when he became rather aware of the number of people milling around Mac’s pub that were now suspiciously quiet and glancing in their general direction. It was a rather large turn out for Tuesday evening and the wizard wondered if the rumblings in the mortal world (a terrorist attack with no one stepping up to claim it for themselves…or the new one now…a mass suicide) and the supernatural world about Carthage had something to do with it.
“Karrin, can you keep your voice down?” Harry pleaded.
Murphy stared at him. “Dresden! You just told me you spent your weekend in Carthage!” She disregarded his request for discretion. Now everyone in the pub was listening to their conversation. “Why where you there?”
Harry sighed in dismay and tightened his drip on his steak knife. He turned his head and mustered up his best ‘Scary Warden’ look . . .which was probably an attempt to glare like the late Donald Morgan. As his gaze swept the room, the patrons of McAnally’s turned away from their conversation and quickly went back to minding their own business.
“Yes. I was in Carthage. Yes. It is related to magic. Is this bad? According to Bob he wants me to whisk you and Molly into the hills and prepare to repopulate the Earth.” The wizard replied.
It took Murphy a moment to process the rapid fire response before swiftly kicking him in the shin from under the table. While Dresden grimaced, the officer shook her head. “You could have said something sooner!”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.” Harry hissed through his teeth. “I have been elbow deep in evidence and research since I came back. You think I want to sit here over the best hot dinner I’ve had in weeks and talk about the frozen dead bodies of women and children?” He looked down at his plate grimly and pushed aside the perfectly good cut of meat with a sour frown.
That was apparently enough of a cue for Mac to arrive and put fresh beer on the table. Harry nodded at him in thanks and took a long draw from his. Murphy picked at the label as she waited for him to come around from his sudden change in mood.
“I’m sorry.” She said.
“Bob’s still working out the details but he is certain that something strolled into the town and used all of its population for a summoning ritual. I left him looking through a few grimores, but he is sure there is nothing in them can touch this.” Harry began. “Elaine is getting all sorts of information from the Paranet…and checking her records for some possible psychic being in the area.”
Murphy frowned. “Got a name?”
“From the registration papers of a wagon loaded up to fight a supernatural World War III.” Harry reached into his duster and held out a piece of paper. “Thought you might be able to check the plates with the state police and get me an idea who this woman is.”
The sergeant nodded slowly and took the paper. “What else was there?”
“Besides the bodies?” Harry said dryly. “I got what looks like some sort of circle made from fire…and a blown up warehouse with two bodies and the corpses of some Hellhounds.”
Murphy’s eyes flicked up from the paper. “Not Jar-”
“Not Kincaid.” Harry interrupted her. “This was the house pet version of him. Distant cousin. Looks like whoever blew themselves up got mauled by one of these things. We’re not sure yet if it might be connected to the possible practitioner who preformed the ritual or one of the locals trying to escape.”
She let out a slow breath and nodded. “I’ll take a look then.” After a few moments the officer pushed her neglected beer across the table to sit next to the now empty one Harry was holding.
----
“Harvelle is a hunter.” Elaine voice was laced with a sort of contempt. “I called around to some of the other Paranet members in the area and those that didn’t hang up on me told me the whole family’s in the business.”
Harry frowned, bringing his notes closer to him. “What is a hunter?” He shouldered the phone and picked up a pencil.
“The mortal equivalent of a Warden. Regular folk who found out that the supernatural world is real and decided to do something about it. Only their idea of dealing with it is to kill everything that isn’t human.” It was definitely contempt in Elaine’s voice now.
“So Ellen’s one of them?”
“She ran a bar called Harvelle’s Roadhouse in Nebraska that burned down almost four years ago. It was a haunt for hunters all over the country. Husband was a hunter and there was something about a daughter. I started hearing about these hunters when we started the Paranet. We make it a point to warn others to avoid regions of the States that have high concentrations of them.”
Harry glanced down at his scrawl. “Guess one of these hunters found something interesting in Carthage. Doesn’t look like they made it out alive.” He found himself writing down next to Ellen’s name ‘Hardware Store victim?’ and pushing his notebook aside. “What else you know?”
“Starting back about the time this bar in Nebraska burned down, there was some sort of purge in the hunting community. A couple of them died in the bar fire. The rest have been picked off by the dozens in the years following. The last big purge was about…a little over a year ago…” Papers rustled in the background. “Late September 2008. Around the same time a few very angry spirits mauled a number of our psychics. Nobody knew what set them off but it lasted about two or three days.”
Harry nodded slowly. “You think they are connected?”
“I couldn’t care less about what happens to hunters.” Elaine said and hung up.
----
Sam heard the phone vibrating across the top of the nightstand. He groaned, loudly, hoping that someone else beside him would get it. As it kept vibrating, making that plastic jarring against compressed wood noise, the younger brother growled into his pillow.
“Dean…”
“Not my phone, bitch.” Dean mumbled distantly from across the room. Sam huffed as he finally pushed himself up and looked. It was indeed his phone causing the distress. He thought for sure it was Dean’s, since the vibration had caused the cell to navigate itself towards Dean’s side of the nightstand dividing the two beds.
He started to reach for it when a hand intercepted. Sam flicked his hair back from his face to see Castiel holding the phone open. The buzzing had stopped but now the angel stared at the device, utterly perplexed.
“Sam, I believe your phone is defective.” The angel concluded.
“It was the alarm Cas.” Dean grumbled. He rolled over and blinked groggily up at the trench coat clad seraphim. “Sam set the alarm…because he thinks we need to be up and moving at six am.” The hunter reached out and took the phone from Castiel and after a moment of fidgeting with it, flicked it across the room at his brother.
Sam shielded his face from the oncoming projectile while Castiel frowned at the information.
“These devices can also be used as a means to wake someone?”
“Yeah.” Sam replied sitting up and taking his phone from where it landed in the folds of the comforter. Dean had decidedly flopped back into bed and had his back at the two of them while they talked. “Can take pictures, keep a calendar with dates, play music…” Sam’s brow knitted together as he tried to use his phone.
“Dean!” He called in frustration.
“Mmm.”
“You locked my keypad!” Sam snapped.
“Want some cheese with that whine?” Dean mumbled. “Fix it yourself geek-boy.”
Sam scowled at his brother. “What are you? Ten?”
“I do believe Dean is thirty.” Castiel corrected, stepping back between the two beds to sit on the rollaway that had been brought into the room for him. Both brothers were certain that the angel hadn’t use the bed at all and remained up the entire night. While Sam glared at the seraphim, he took stock of his current condition. So far all that was left of his injuries as the gauze taped to the side of his neck and the distinct shape through the white dress shirt of the tape and bandages crisscrossing Jimmy’s chest and waist. Castiel still moved with a certain stiffness that came with someone blessed with cracked ribs.
Sam threw his phone back at Dean, this time actually swinging to cause injury. The phone collided with Dean’s exposed shoulder and hit with a satisfying smack of plastic against flesh. The older hunter hissed at him in return.
“Fix my phone, jerk.” Sam groused as he climbed out of bed and started to rifle through his bags for clean clothes “Just for that, I’m going to the meeting with Lt. Murphy and you can sit in a cold car and stake out the wizard’s office.”
Dean shot up. “Hey!”
“I’ll try to leave you some hot water.” Sam announced and slammed the bathroom door shut.
Castiel regarded the door before turning to look at Dean. “I do not believe he appreciated your prank.”
Dean glowered at him, finding the phone and pressing several buttons. “It wasn’t like I made the password that hard.” He muttered, finishing his work and slamming it down on the nightstand.
----
“It wasn’t that hard.” Dean muttered, watching his breath fog in front of him. He sighed and finally reached for the thermos, unscrewing the cap and pouring steaming soup into the cup. As an afterthought, he turned and offered the rest to the man sitting next to him. Castiel raised his hand in a polite decline.
“You need it for yourself.” He said after a moment.
Dean shoved it at him again. “Gabriel said you were going to need to start doing more human things now. You can’t just keep mojoing Jimmy’s needs away from him.” He declared. “So suck it up and feed the poor bastard.”
Castiel looked at the thermos again and finally accepted it. Dean watched with earnest as the angel contemplated the opening, billowing a pleasant steam into the interior of the chilly Impala, before bringing it to his lips and sipping at it experimentally.
“Well?” Dean asked, finally having some himself.
Castiel frowned at it. “This is a curious drink. It is thick and…a little acidic.” His eyes narrowed at the contents and then at Dean’s cup. “It is also red. What is it?”
“Tomato soup.” Dean said with a smirk. He reached around and plucked a package out of a drug store bag from the backseat. “Here.” He handed the angel a package of saltine crackers. “Best substitute to grilled cheese. Eat these and wash them down.” He instructed and turned his attention back to the street.
They were parked on the edge of an intersection, kiddy corner from the office building that according to the ad was the office of Wizard Harry Dresden. Castiel had done him the service of sweeping the building, locating the office on the corner of the fourth floor overlooking the intersection. The angel reported back that the wizard was currently in his office and working.
Castiel munched on the crackers, noisily at first. “How do you…grill cheese?” He asked, mouth full of saltines. “Would it not melt?”
Dean managed to suppress his amusement into a few short puffs of air through his nose. “It’s a sandwich Cas. You butter some bread and put the cheese in the middle. As you toast the bread, the cheese melts.”
“Interesting.” The angel said, taking a long pull from the thermos. “Would you like me to check on Sam?”
“Sam’s fine.” Dean said quietly, focusing his attention on the building in front of them. “If there is anyone who can handle talking to a cop, it’s Sam.” He sighed and did his best to hide his nervousness by continuing to eat lunch.
They remained in silence, chilled, and finishing their lunch until Castiel finally broke out with a confession.
“I never found pleasure in surveillance.” He said. “It is very tedious work.”
“Yes it is.” Dean admitted, letting the steam from the soup warm his cold cheeks and nose.
----
Between Bobby and Detective McBain’s efforts, they had managed to get a meeting with Sergeant Karrin Murphy. Sam had decided to put on a good front, dressing up in his best suit, and offering to meet Murphy in any restaurant of her choosing. He took the public bus out to the address he had been given.
Turns out, Murphy wanted to meet in a pub.
Sam found McAnally’s with little difficulty, walking briskly through the cold morning across a fairly bare parking lot. Most of the cars sitting there were old and rather well used, he noted. The only car in the whole lot was a fairly pristine Saturn that was parked in one of the spaces closest to the entrance of the pub.
The hunter took one last deep breath of cold air, hoping that this meeting with the local law enforcement was going to go off better than their last attempts to extend the olive branch. He stepped into the pub, feeling a wall of hot air, smelling sweetly of the local fare and the smoke of a well tended to fire, blow past him as he entered and closed the door.
Sam started to turn, taking in the layout of the pub. Per their father’s teachings, he always made himself aware of their surroundings. How many exits were there? Where are they? Where would an enemy most likely be? How many people are in the room and just how much of the room can be turned into a fortification should you become trapped there?
That was when Sam realized in his mental visualization of the pub…that this place was not your standard establishment for good food and beer.
There were 13 pillars, each carved with intricate designs. That was the first thing that stood out to him, because all it took was one glance at the carvings to realize they significant to warding magic. There were also 13 tables scattered about, 13 windows, and 13 stools at the bar itself. Ceiling fans spun around lazily and a fire crackled in a harth, warming the room.
This place was designed to keep magic at bay.
Sam turned his attention to the bar and found the barkeep eying him curiously while washing some glasses. A plack stood out distinctly that read in engraved letters “Accorded Neutral Ground”. It took a second for him to make out the rest of the fine print, but apparently this place was neutral ground under the laws of the Unseelie Accords that Castiel had mentioned.
The hunter couldn’t help but gawk.
“Thought it be appropriate to meet on some level ground.” A woman’s voice spoke up above the casual din of the pub. Sam tore his eyes away from the room and found that the speaker was a woman sitting the closest to him at the bar. She had shoulder-length blond hair, a cute nose, and blue eyes. Her outfit was both professional and yet casual. The only quirk that the hunter could make out was the Cubs jersey jacket hanging off the back of her seat.
Sam collected himself. “Sergeant Murphy?” He asked.
The woman smiled and slipped out of her seat. “Murphy.” She extended a hand to him. Sam resisted and failed at trying not to smile at the woman’s short stature. He easily stood a foot and half above her.
“Sam Winchester.” Sam offered.
Out of the corner of his eye, the bald and overwhelming presence of the barkeep became incredibly still. The level of noise in the pub also drifted into an eerie silence.
The sound of Sam swallowing was probably the loudest sound in the whole room.
“Let’s have a seat.” Murphy said, more cheery than anyone had probably expected. She picked up her coat and her glass from the bar and led the way to one of the tables on into the middle of the room. They took a seat and after a moment of getting settled, the barkeep appeared and set down a similar glass in front of the hunter and a pitch of water between the two of them. A bowl of peanuts and salty popcorn followed in its wake.
Sam eyed the water set before him, unsure if it was wise to be consuming anything. He was a hunter, having just walked into a local supernatural haunt.
“Mac’s not going to poison you.” Murphy said, pouring more water into her half drank glass and taking a sip. “He keeps a shotgun under the bar though.”
Sam chuckled nervously and then poured himself a glass as well.
“So.” Murphy sat back and cast a calculated over Sam. “I have to admit, you clean up well for a guy McBain described as being scruffy looking.”
Sam smiled. “Well, I didn’t want to give you any bad impressions. Our first meeting with McBain wasn’t exactly ideal.”
“So I’ve been told.” The officer said. “I’m impressed that you actually decided to contact someone in the authorities before running half cocked through my city. Don’t you…have a brother?” Murphy asked, her eyes narrowing slightly in speculation.
“He’s busy right now.” Sam replied. “Our car was acting up when we came into the city last night, he went to go get it check out.”
Murphy stared at him hard. “Lying through your teeth doesn’t make us friends Sam.” She said, picking up her glass and taking a sip.
Crap. Sam thought, finding the wood grain of the table very interesting. He sighed and thinned his lips.
“What brings you to Chicago, Mr. Winchester?” Murphy decided to get to the point, though her expression was starting to look a little more business and less friendly. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not aware that there may or may not have been hunters in the city before but I have to say…this is the first one has ever come right out and told me. And while I appreciate being on notice, I am not about to let you go running through my city raising all sorts of hell or a body count.”
“No, Ma’am.” Sam nodded. “We’re not looking to cause any trouble.”
“Good.” Murphy nodded. “So lets hear it.”
Sam reached into his messenger bag and pulled out the neatly folded yellow page from the phonebook. “My brother and I are looking for this man.” He laid the document on the table and pointed to Dresden’s ad.
He watched her carefully. Sure enough, as well as Murphy tried to hide it, the way her lips thinned as she looked at the ad was all Sam needed to see. Murphy knew who Dresden was, even if she tried to pretend not to.
Murphy looked up at Sam. “Why?”
Sam frowned slightly. “I…I would rather not say.” He said. “Our business with the wizard is our own and I’m afraid we can’t afford the risk of others knowing why.” Because the last thing we need is for anyone to know we have come for these swords. Sam added in his mind.
“I don’t like the sounds of that.” Sergeant Murphy said.
Sam couldn’t offer her anything better. “I’m sorry. If I could tell you why we want to see him, I would…but I think it is best for everyone if we maintained a level of secrecy.”
Murphy sat back in her chair again and crossed her arms over her chest. She stared down at the ad for a minute and then focused her attention on Sam. The officer then turned to her coat and produced a similar folded white piece of paper and set it down on top of the ad.
“I hope you don’t mind me changing the topic…but I just had a thought.” Murphy stated. “I only learned a great deal of hunters in my phone call with McBain this morning and she told me a lot about what you and your brother do. Your father too.” She smoothed out the document. “I’ve got something here that might concern you.”
Sam sat forward and looked at the offered document. It was a copy of a vehicle registration and a print out of a driver’s license.
Ellen’s kind face stared back at him from her license.
“You heard about Carthage, yes?” Murphy asked. “A couple of…investigators found a car on site with a great deal of occult weapons and materials inside of it.”
Sam felt as if something had kicked him in the gut. He couldn’t bring himself to breath as Murphy flipped the page of the document, which was a list of the contents of Ellen’s car with several symbols drawn in the margins.
“A lot of people are dead down there. And this woman was in the middle of it.” Murphy said. “There are people trying to figure out what happened there and I want to know if she was one of yours. If you know anything about Carthage and you start being honest with me, I might reconsider running you and your brother out of my city.”
Sam couldn’t think. He didn’t realize he had picked the first page of the report and was holding it, looking at Ellen’s picture. It was the only one he had seen after Bobby had burned the photograph taken the night before they had all gone to Carthage to kill the Devil. All the emotions he had been trying to hold back, because of Dean’s stupid repression and his own guilt, brought every thought in his mind to a screeching halt.
He could still feel the warmth of the fire. He could still hear deafening boom of the explosion in his ears, making them ring. If he had been standing, Sam was sure he could probably feel the phantom sensation of the earth quaking as he had watched Ellen and Jo blow themselves to kingdom come.
Murphy reached out and snatched the file out of his hand. “Tell your brother to get his car fixed and get out of my city.” She ordered, stuffing the documents into her coat. As an afterthought, she flicked a white business card onto the table, landing it smack in the middle of the yellow page ad. “Should you change you mind, that is the number I can be reached at. But if I so much as lay eyes on you again before that and I will arrest you.”
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