Episode: Season 2 Episode 3

Part: 1

Key:

(M/n) = Male Name

WARNING: Death, swearing, boy x boy, some triggering stuff. This is Supernatural, everything happens in this show/fandom.

Enjoy~

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The Impala zoomed up a 2-lane, driven by Dean. He is in a good mood, grooving along to his music. 

"Whoo! Listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?" He cheered.

"You know, if you two wanna get a room, just let me know, Dean.""

"Oh, don't listen to him, baby. He doesn't understand us." (M/n) was chuckling at how much the Winchester cherished his car. It kind of adorable.

"You're in a good mood." Sam laughed.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"No reason."

"Got my car, got a case, things are looking up."

"Wow. Give you a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're Mister Sunshine." Sam commented

"How far to Red Lodge?" Dean laughed.

"Uh, about another three hundred miles."

"Good." Dean floored it.

~Sheriff's office~

In Red Lodge, a sheriff with an impressive mustache is talking to Sam, Dean, and (M/n), who are posing as reporters.

"The murder investigation is ongoing, and that's all I can share with the press at this time." The sheriff said.

"Sure, sure, we understand that, but just for the record, you found the first, uh, head last week, correct?" Sam asked him.

The sheriff nodded.

"Okay, and the other, a uh, Christina Flanigan."

"That was two days ago. Is there-" A woman knocks on the door, pointing at her watch. "Oh. Sorry boys, times up, we're done here."

"One last question-"

"Yeah, what about the cattle" (M/n) asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You know, the cows found dead, split open, drained...over a dozen cases."

"What about them?"

"So you don't think there's a connection?"

"Connection...with..?"

"First cattle mutilations, now two murders? Kinda sound like ritual stuff." Sam said.

"You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff?"

The sheriff laughed. "You- you're not kidding."

"No."

"Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know?"

"Amuse us." (M/n) sassed abit.

"Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation. Cow drops, leave in the sun, within forty eight hours the bloat'll split it open so clean it's just about surgical. The bodily fluids fall down into the ground and get soaked up because that's what gravity does. But, hey, it could be Satan. What newspaper did you say you work for?"

"World Weekly News..." Dean said.

"Weekly World News." Sam corrected him.

"World-" Dean said.

"Weekly World-" 

"Weekly....I'm new." 

(M/n) faced palmed.

"Get out of my office."

~Hospital~

Dean, Sam, and (M/n) enter the morgue. The intern on duty has a name tag that reads 'J. Manners.' Dean looks at it, calculating.

"John." Dean said.

"Jeff." The intern corrected.

"Jeff. I know that. Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away."

"But Dr. Dworkin's on vacation."

"Well, he's back. And he's pissed, and he's screaming for you, man, so if I were you I would...." Dean whistled and the intern ran away. "Okay. Hey, those Satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?"

"Yeah, reversed pentacle on the forehead."

"Yeah. So much f'd up crap happens in Florida."

Dean hands Sam and (M/n) a pair of latex gloves and puts on a pair of his own. Sam opens a compartment and wheels out a corpse, there's a box between its legs.

"All right, open it."

"You open it."

"Wuss." Dean said, then looked at (M/n) and smiled. "Wanna open it babe."

(M/n) sighed and carries the box over to another table and flips off the lid, grimacing. Sam and Dean come up next to him, cringing.

"Well, no pentagram." The demon said.

"Wow. Poor girl."

"Maybe we should, uh, you know, look in her mouth, see if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat. You know, kinda like the moth in Silence of the Lambs."

"Yeah, here, go ahead, (M/n)." Sam said.

"What? I flipped the lid, it's your turn." Sam looked at Dean.

"Put the lotion in the basket." Dean said.

"Right, yeah, I'm the wuss, huh? Whatever." He braced himself and starts poking his fingers into the mouth. "You guys, get me a bucket?"

"You find something?"

"No, I'm going to puke."

"Wait, lift the lip up again?"

"What? You want me to throw up, is that it?"

"No, no, no I think I saw something." The oldest pulled back the lip. "What is that, a hole?" He presses on the gum and a narrow, sharp tooth descends.

"It's a tooth." (M/n) said.

"That's a fang. Retractable set of vampire fangs. You gotta be kidding me."

"Well, this changed things."

"Ya think?"

~At a bar~

The three walk in and approach the bar, a man sitting at a table to one side is watching them.

"How's it going?" Dean asked the bartender.

"Living the dream. What can I get for you"

"Three beers, please."

"So, we're looking for some people."

"Sure. Hard to be lonely."

"Yeah. But, um, that's not what I meant." He pulls out a $50 bill and drops it on the bar. The bartender looks at it, then takes it. "Right. So these, these people, they would have moved here about six months ago, probably pretty rowdy, like to drink..."

"Yeah, real night owls, you know? Sleep all day, party all night."

"Barker farm got leased out a couple months ago. Real winners. They've been in here a lot- drinkers. Noisy. I've had to 86 them once or twice." The bartender said.

"Thanks."

They leave their half-finished beers on the table and leave. The man who was watching them is gone, a smoldering cigarette left behind. As the boys leave, the man watches, then stalks them. They go down an alley, he follows. He loses sight of them, turns. Dean, Sam and (M/n) are suddenly there, pinning him to the wall, (M/n) with a knife at his throat.

"Smile." Dean said.

"What?" The man asked.

"Show us those pearly whites."

"Oh, for the love of- you want to stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire." Sam frowned. "Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there."

"What do you know about vampires.?"

"How to kill them. Now seriously, bro. That knife's making me itch." (M/n) cocked his head. The man starts to pull away, the boy pinned him harder. "Whoa. Easy there, Chachi." He slowly brings his right hand to his lip, pulls it back, revealing normal gums. "See? Fangless. Happy?" 

"Alright, he's good." The demon put his knife away.

"Now. Who the hell are you?"

~Parking lot~

At the man's car, he pulls out his arsenal, which includes a large hook.

"Sam and Dean Winchester. I can't believe it. You know I met your old man once? Hell of a guy. Great hunter. I heard he passed. I'm sorry. It's big shoes. And I hear you two fill 'em."

"You seen to know a lot about our family."

"Word travels fast. You know how hunters talk. " The man says.

"No, we don't, actually."

"I guess there's a lot your dad never told you, huh?"

"So, um, so those two vampires, they were yours, huh?" Sam said.

"Yep. Been here two weeks."

"Did you check out that Barker farm?"

"It's a bust. Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Thoughthey could kill you with that patchouli smell alone."

"Where's the nest, then?"

"I got this one covered. Look, don't get me wrong. It's a real pleasure meetin' you fellas. But I've been on this thing over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it." The man said.

"We could help."

"Thanks, but uh, I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy."

"Come on, man, I've been itching for a hunt." Dean explained.

"He has." (M/n) commented.

"Sorry. But hey, I hear there's a chupacabra two states over. You go ahead and knock yourselves out." He got in his car. "It was real good meeting you, though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side." He drove off.