Don't Fear The Reaper - (Supernatural, 4/?) - Updated 31/03/11

[BlueRandom]

Heya - sorry it's been so long!

Part Four

“Okay. We've got five dead locals: four murdered at a specific time and made to look inconspicuous; one almost definitely as a cover up. We know for sure the killer's employing a reaper ...” Sam planted his hands on his knees, gazing downwards into his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Dean had the side of his forehead leaned up against the wall, now calm and fully sober but heavy-headed. “How do you know the reaper's not acting on its own?”

“The timings – they seem like some kind of ritual. And the way the deaths were arranged as though they were coincidental; then the only witness being murdered. Those are human concerns.”

Dean nodded tersely, trying to conceal that he was having trouble digesting his brother's words. His skin felt clammy, and his nose was prickling in the way that caused his eyes to blur with wetness. “Ah'HESCHhh! - for the love of -” He had jerked forward, his temple colliding savagely with the solid plaster of the wall.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Sam's expression managed to convey a wealth of sarcasm.

“Keep your nose out.”

“Huh. I thought we were talking about your nose.”

“That's really cute, Sam … ehh … EHH'Shoo! … Son of a –”

Sam raised his eyebrows at the stream of curse words that followed Dean's head slamming into the wall a second time, but refrained from commenting.

“So what did Lawson know?”

“Seems like the only threat he had on anyone was that he saw the reaper; even though he didn't realise what he was seeing. I guess whoever's behind this stuff is kind of paranoid and – Could you at least pretend to be listening?”

“Ehh ...” Dean had braced his hand against the wall this time, keeping a safe distance. “Hehh'Shoo! … Etschh-uh!”

“We're going to have to go back to the bar.” Sam resumed his own train of thought. “The cops should have cleared out by now.”

“No kidding. It's freakin' three in the morning,” objected Dean; although he was already reaching for his boots.

“Here.” Without making eye contact, Sam passed him a hoody salvaged from the duffel bag's interior. Dean examined it grudgingly, before throwing it on underneath his jacket and heading for the door.

The bar was deserted, windows pitch black in the darkness, with remnants of police tape on the ground. Sam noticed that the upstairs windows were curtained: he supposed the barman must live above, or was renting out the flat to tenants. Several moments passed, in which Dean picked the lock with the standard paper-clip routine. It took a little longer than usual, and Sam was shivering by the time the lock gave way and he could let the door click ajar. They separated, combing the room between them for any lingering traces of the attack on Lawson.

“Sam. Over here.” Dean was crouching beneath the bar, clutching a stale bottle of suspiciously crimson liquid and pointing to an encased carcass that appeared to be a skinned rabbit. “Man, that is grim.”

Sam edged over to him, then froze, gripping Dean's upper arm to still him. Footsteps were audible on floorboards through the ceiling, the hanging lamps beginning to tremor. Sam ducked down beside Dean, his head scraping the beer taps; as the bar rang with the hollow sound of shoes on a staircase, and a door opened to their left.

A male voice, that Sam recognised as belonging to the barman, and an unfamiliar female one were talking in low mutters; scouring the room. Sam was trying to keep as motionless as possible, staring at the assortment of objects shelved in front of him. Bundles of herbs and leaves, carefully preserved animal remains, jars and vials of ominous substances. “Witches?” he mouthed, in the direction of his brother.

Dean was looking uncomfortable, his face oddly tense. His lips parted slightly, and Sam narrowed his eyes desperately at him, in anguished warning. “Ehh … heh ...” Dean's own eyes were watering, his muscles taut in the arm that Sam was still grasping. He knuckled the underside of his nose furiously, his chest heaving with each hitching breath. “Ehh … hh'Etschh!”

A shout from the barman, a stool knocked over onto the tiled floor, and the two of them were upright, Dean's gun cocked and readily aimed. The woman was clasping a knife which she launched at Sam, but he lurched sideways and it struck a bottle of gin behind the bar, hitting the floor with a metallic clatter. He moved quickly, jabbing his hand at the pressure point by her neck so that she collapsed next to the fallen stool. Dean found himself in a stalemate of sorts with the barman; his own gun facing a heavy rifle. His opponent was fixed on Dean, firing a shot that missed by a fraction at the same instant as Sam launched a kick to his midriff. The man was thrown aside, colliding heavily with the television set next to the bar so that it flickered into life behind him, a newsreader's clipped voice starting up.

Sam's face was bemused as he turned over the barman's body with his foot, and indicated a symbol etched into his arm in black ink. He exchanged a grim look with Dean, who made to pull up the sleeve of the woman's nightdress. The same shape was imprinted on her skin.

“I don't like this,” Sam murmured, chewing his bottom lip apprehensively.

“Hey, Sammy?” Dean paused for a second to scrub at the side of his nose with his sleeve. “I think this one just got a whole lot more complicated.”

Sam turned to look at him, following his line of sight to the television in the corner. Dean's face was plastered over the screen, the familiar mugshot from Baltimore, a 'wanted' headline flashing beneath.

_ _ _

[telltale]

Yayyyyyyy!

I just re-read the previous parts, then this, and it's all SO GREAT. I love Dean banging his head on the wall and Sam just being like, *sigh*. Hee! And the case is cool too.

[Lady Blessington]

You're BACK!

Aw, the hoodie that they don't verbally acknowledge Dean needs, and Dean trying not to sneeze and reveal their hiding place... so good!

[princessontheporch]

Sneezy/frustrated Dean, impatient Sam, sneezing while hiding, brotherly banter... this story is just...

I'm in love.

[iluvsneezes]

Yay, you're back! This story is beyond awesome so far. I love sneezy!Dean knocking his head on the wall and trying not to sneeze while hiding, classic!! I can't wait for more.

[Foxfire]

You continued!!!! I think I love you!!!! This is made of awesome!!! The sneezing. The plot. The boys.

Yup, I AM in love :laugh.

Moaaaaaaaaaaaaar please?!?!?!?!??!

[27jj]

Aww yay, there’s more! I loved the sneezy parts, especially Dean’s head-banging-against-wall episode and the trying not to sneeze while hiding. Poor muffin