Fighting Demons: Chapter 2 "Return to Chicago"
Title: Return to Chicago
Fandom: Supernatural/Dresden Files crossover
Characters: Sam, Dean, brief mention of Murphy
Prompt: #032, "Return"
Word Count: 1500
Rating: PG
Summary: The boys need to find Dresden, but he's not that easy to locate.
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Kripke; Murphy belongs to Jim Butcher, and they both belong to many others, who shall remain nameless. I can assure you, they do not belong to me. More's the pity.
Notes: This is chapter 2 of my continuing Dresden/Supernatural crossover, written for my fanfic 50 prompt table, located here. Also, this is the book universe of Dresden, not the TV universe, as becomes obvious with this installment.
Chapter 1 (if you missed it)
Return to Chicago
Curvy-waitress Donna emerged from the motel room looking flushed about 45 minutes after Sam found a semi-dry patch of cement to sit on and wait. That was even more pitiful than waiting in the car, he thought; but since the alternative was to knock on the door or worse just open it, he preferred to sit. He had interrupted Dean before and the results were never good. So, even though he was shivering and his butt was very numb from sitting in wet jeans on cold cement, waiting was the best option.
She didn’t even glance his direction but she squinted at her watch and examined her fingernails as she waited. A moment later, a car pulled up and she ran quickly through the rain to climb inside. Sam waited until the car was out of sight before he struggled to his more-numb-than-his-butt feet and walked over to the door. He opened it with a bang and wasn’t at all surprised to see Dean sprawled under the covers, snoring softly. Just because he could, Sam peeled off his wet shirt and threw it across the room to land on Dean’s naked back.
Sam found out pretty quickly that Dean could still whip his butt.
Dean did apologize for forgetting to unlock the Impala and also promised to make Sam a copy of the key to the car door (that wouldn’t actually start the car) and Sam was hardly in a position to argue since Dean had him in a headlock and was currently giving him the world’s worst noogie.
Sam indulged in a hot shower while Dean packed up their few clothes, leaving Sam’s wet things on top of the duffel bags to dry, except for one sock he conveniently "forgot" about, making sure it was packed securely in the middle of all Sam’s dry underwear.
Dean was not all that keen about heading to Chicago, which Sam could understand, because he wasn’t that keen on it himself. The last time they were there things had gotten nasty and the memories of Dad seeing them there and everything just made it worse. Meg and her black altar thingy still gave Sam nightmares every once in a while, although he certainly would never admit that to anyone else. All in all, Chicago had been a disaster two years ago and there certainly wasn’t much to lead him to think this time would be any different. However, they both knew the most important thing was to get control of these demons and if this supposed wizard knew something about the demons, then they needed to talk to him, Chicago or no Chicago. And the quicker they could find him, the better.
The drive into the city took about five hours and it took an hour and a half once they got there to locate the area of the city where the wizard’s office was and that was only after they finally looked in the phone book and realized he even had an office. By then, it was about 3:00 in the morning and they were both exhausted. Dean was playing some loud music to keep himself awake and when they pulled up in front of the seedy-looking building, Sam reached over and turned it off. "Let’s sleep. He probably doesn’t open until 9 or so, and that’s assuming he’s not currently rotting in jail for murdering those people." He looked down at the ad Dean had ripped out of the phonebook. "He doesn’t actually give office hours, though."
Dean scoffed. "He says he’s a wizard, Sam. Maybe he just knows someone needs him and shows up."
"You mean like Batman with the secret Bat Signal flashing across the sky?"
"Could happen. I’m just saying . . . ."
"Right."
When the office still wasn’t open by 10, it was mutually decided that waiting at the office was an exercise in futility and they had to find some other way to contact him. Sam read the newspaper article again and then flicked his fingers against it. "Oh, I’m an idiot sometimes. He works part-time for the police. I bet if we go into their offices, someone can tell us how to get ahold of him. They must be able to get him when they need him for a case or something."
"Maybe they’re the ones who can send the secret Bat Signal!"
"Give it up, Dean!" But Sam stopped arguing when Dean put the car into drive and slid easily into the busy street traffic. Finding police headquarters wasn’t really too difficult, fortunately, as neither of the brothers liked driving in big cities very much but sometimes it couldn’t be avoided. Of course, going into a police station was a scary experience for both of them, too, but it had to be done. They both had outstanding warrants out for their arrests, but fortunately they hadn’t ever been arrested in Chicago and so the chance of their faces being plastered on the walls was rather remote. "I’ll do the talking, okay? I’ve got a story in mind." Sam had been thinking about it since the night before, when he had read the article through the first time. He thought he could probably pull it off with the cops, as long as they didn’t ask too many questions.
"Go for it," Dean opened the door for him and shoved him through with a firm hand between his shoulder blades. "I’ll back you up all the way."
"Thanks. I think." He approached a desk where a rather gruff-looking cop sat drinking a cup of coffee behind a desk that looked too short for him. "Excuse me, I’m looking for a Harry Dresden, who I was told sometimes works as a consultant for the police department. Would you happen to know which department he works with and who I can speak to?" The cop raised his eyebrow and his expression didn’t change at all.
"Why would you want to talk to him?"
"Well, okay this is embarrassing, but, we heard that he’s really good at banishing ghosts and that sort of thing, and we, uh, have one in our apartment that’s just totally messing with the feng shui of the place. We thought maybe Mr. Dresden could help us." The cop got a disgusted look on his face as he gave both Sam and Dean the evil eye. Dean whacked Sam again between the shoulder blades, quite a bit harder than was really necessary.
"I thought that was personal, Sammy! You shouldn’t tell people that sort of thing."
"Well, he asked." Sam smiled sweetly at Dean, who made a fist, low by his leg where the cop couldn’t see it. Sam turned back to the policeman and smiled even more sweetly at him. He caved, as Sam had hoped he would.
"I don’t guess anyone knows where he is right at the moment. He’s in a bit of trouble, and I can tell you, uh, boy, that he is not going to be wanting to do any fang-shooey sort of stuff with your apartment. He’s under suspicion for murder. He works with Murphy, though, so I guess I’ll let you find out for yourself. Go straight back there to SI. They’re the nut cases that work with that crackpot."
"A cop named Murphy?" Dean asked as they walked away from the desk. "Is this just one big cliche, or what? I bet he’s a fat red-haired guy with his belt hitched tight below a huge stomach. And remind me later, Sam, to kill you slowly later for the story you told to get us back here."
"I’ll do my best to remember, Dean." He hoped the sarcasm in his voice was obvious. They both stopped short as they came to the office door and its shiny gold nameplate: Karrin Murphy. "Not a fat guy."
"Oh, shut up, Sam." They could hear someone who they assumed to be Murphy screaming loudly behind the door. Since no one was screaming back, Sam figured she was on the phone and felt sorry for whoever’s eardrum she was puncturing. Then, he turned slightly so he could hear better and grinned at Dean when he did the same. He loved it when they both had the same thought like that.
"I don’t care what he said. You tell Dresden that I want him here in my office in an hour! I know he didn’t kill that woman, but the longer he stays hidden, the guiltier he looks to everyone else!" There was a short pause. "That’s crazy even for him!" A longer pause but her voice was still plenty loud when she answered. "Obviously he doesn’t want to be arrested! I don’t want to arrest him either! Tell him one hour, no longer, or I personally will high-tail it over to his house and drag his sorry butt in here, wizard or no! And he knows I will, too!" The phone slammed down on the receiver and there was another sound of something heavy hitting the wall.
Sam mouthed "Wow!" at Dean and then knocked quietly on the door. This Murphy had a temper, obviously. No use making her even more aggravated by being rude.
Fandom: Supernatural/Dresden Files crossover
Characters: Sam, Dean, brief mention of Murphy
Prompt: #032, "Return"
Word Count: 1500
Rating: PG
Summary: The boys need to find Dresden, but he's not that easy to locate.
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Kripke; Murphy belongs to Jim Butcher, and they both belong to many others, who shall remain nameless. I can assure you, they do not belong to me. More's the pity.
Notes: This is chapter 2 of my continuing Dresden/Supernatural crossover, written for my fanfic 50 prompt table, located here. Also, this is the book universe of Dresden, not the TV universe, as becomes obvious with this installment.
Chapter 1 (if you missed it)
Return to Chicago
Curvy-waitress Donna emerged from the motel room looking flushed about 45 minutes after Sam found a semi-dry patch of cement to sit on and wait. That was even more pitiful than waiting in the car, he thought; but since the alternative was to knock on the door or worse just open it, he preferred to sit. He had interrupted Dean before and the results were never good. So, even though he was shivering and his butt was very numb from sitting in wet jeans on cold cement, waiting was the best option.
She didn’t even glance his direction but she squinted at her watch and examined her fingernails as she waited. A moment later, a car pulled up and she ran quickly through the rain to climb inside. Sam waited until the car was out of sight before he struggled to his more-numb-than-his-butt feet and walked over to the door. He opened it with a bang and wasn’t at all surprised to see Dean sprawled under the covers, snoring softly. Just because he could, Sam peeled off his wet shirt and threw it across the room to land on Dean’s naked back.
Sam found out pretty quickly that Dean could still whip his butt.
Dean did apologize for forgetting to unlock the Impala and also promised to make Sam a copy of the key to the car door (that wouldn’t actually start the car) and Sam was hardly in a position to argue since Dean had him in a headlock and was currently giving him the world’s worst noogie.
Sam indulged in a hot shower while Dean packed up their few clothes, leaving Sam’s wet things on top of the duffel bags to dry, except for one sock he conveniently "forgot" about, making sure it was packed securely in the middle of all Sam’s dry underwear.
Dean was not all that keen about heading to Chicago, which Sam could understand, because he wasn’t that keen on it himself. The last time they were there things had gotten nasty and the memories of Dad seeing them there and everything just made it worse. Meg and her black altar thingy still gave Sam nightmares every once in a while, although he certainly would never admit that to anyone else. All in all, Chicago had been a disaster two years ago and there certainly wasn’t much to lead him to think this time would be any different. However, they both knew the most important thing was to get control of these demons and if this supposed wizard knew something about the demons, then they needed to talk to him, Chicago or no Chicago. And the quicker they could find him, the better.
The drive into the city took about five hours and it took an hour and a half once they got there to locate the area of the city where the wizard’s office was and that was only after they finally looked in the phone book and realized he even had an office. By then, it was about 3:00 in the morning and they were both exhausted. Dean was playing some loud music to keep himself awake and when they pulled up in front of the seedy-looking building, Sam reached over and turned it off. "Let’s sleep. He probably doesn’t open until 9 or so, and that’s assuming he’s not currently rotting in jail for murdering those people." He looked down at the ad Dean had ripped out of the phonebook. "He doesn’t actually give office hours, though."
Dean scoffed. "He says he’s a wizard, Sam. Maybe he just knows someone needs him and shows up."
"You mean like Batman with the secret Bat Signal flashing across the sky?"
"Could happen. I’m just saying . . . ."
"Right."
When the office still wasn’t open by 10, it was mutually decided that waiting at the office was an exercise in futility and they had to find some other way to contact him. Sam read the newspaper article again and then flicked his fingers against it. "Oh, I’m an idiot sometimes. He works part-time for the police. I bet if we go into their offices, someone can tell us how to get ahold of him. They must be able to get him when they need him for a case or something."
"Maybe they’re the ones who can send the secret Bat Signal!"
"Give it up, Dean!" But Sam stopped arguing when Dean put the car into drive and slid easily into the busy street traffic. Finding police headquarters wasn’t really too difficult, fortunately, as neither of the brothers liked driving in big cities very much but sometimes it couldn’t be avoided. Of course, going into a police station was a scary experience for both of them, too, but it had to be done. They both had outstanding warrants out for their arrests, but fortunately they hadn’t ever been arrested in Chicago and so the chance of their faces being plastered on the walls was rather remote. "I’ll do the talking, okay? I’ve got a story in mind." Sam had been thinking about it since the night before, when he had read the article through the first time. He thought he could probably pull it off with the cops, as long as they didn’t ask too many questions.
"Go for it," Dean opened the door for him and shoved him through with a firm hand between his shoulder blades. "I’ll back you up all the way."
"Thanks. I think." He approached a desk where a rather gruff-looking cop sat drinking a cup of coffee behind a desk that looked too short for him. "Excuse me, I’m looking for a Harry Dresden, who I was told sometimes works as a consultant for the police department. Would you happen to know which department he works with and who I can speak to?" The cop raised his eyebrow and his expression didn’t change at all.
"Why would you want to talk to him?"
"Well, okay this is embarrassing, but, we heard that he’s really good at banishing ghosts and that sort of thing, and we, uh, have one in our apartment that’s just totally messing with the feng shui of the place. We thought maybe Mr. Dresden could help us." The cop got a disgusted look on his face as he gave both Sam and Dean the evil eye. Dean whacked Sam again between the shoulder blades, quite a bit harder than was really necessary.
"I thought that was personal, Sammy! You shouldn’t tell people that sort of thing."
"Well, he asked." Sam smiled sweetly at Dean, who made a fist, low by his leg where the cop couldn’t see it. Sam turned back to the policeman and smiled even more sweetly at him. He caved, as Sam had hoped he would.
"I don’t guess anyone knows where he is right at the moment. He’s in a bit of trouble, and I can tell you, uh, boy, that he is not going to be wanting to do any fang-shooey sort of stuff with your apartment. He’s under suspicion for murder. He works with Murphy, though, so I guess I’ll let you find out for yourself. Go straight back there to SI. They’re the nut cases that work with that crackpot."
"A cop named Murphy?" Dean asked as they walked away from the desk. "Is this just one big cliche, or what? I bet he’s a fat red-haired guy with his belt hitched tight below a huge stomach. And remind me later, Sam, to kill you slowly later for the story you told to get us back here."
"I’ll do my best to remember, Dean." He hoped the sarcasm in his voice was obvious. They both stopped short as they came to the office door and its shiny gold nameplate: Karrin Murphy. "Not a fat guy."
"Oh, shut up, Sam." They could hear someone who they assumed to be Murphy screaming loudly behind the door. Since no one was screaming back, Sam figured she was on the phone and felt sorry for whoever’s eardrum she was puncturing. Then, he turned slightly so he could hear better and grinned at Dean when he did the same. He loved it when they both had the same thought like that.
"I don’t care what he said. You tell Dresden that I want him here in my office in an hour! I know he didn’t kill that woman, but the longer he stays hidden, the guiltier he looks to everyone else!" There was a short pause. "That’s crazy even for him!" A longer pause but her voice was still plenty loud when she answered. "Obviously he doesn’t want to be arrested! I don’t want to arrest him either! Tell him one hour, no longer, or I personally will high-tail it over to his house and drag his sorry butt in here, wizard or no! And he knows I will, too!" The phone slammed down on the receiver and there was another sound of something heavy hitting the wall.
Sam mouthed "Wow!" at Dean and then knocked quietly on the door. This Murphy had a temper, obviously. No use making her even more aggravated by being rude.