Post by Dean Winchester on Mar 30, 2015 16:28:21 GMT -5
ooc; SEASON THREE. EPISODE FIFTEEN.
The Winchesters stood side by side, arms crossed, in front of a chair in an abandoned cabin. The chair was in the exact center of a devil's trap, and tied to it with a lot of rope was a panting demon. "You ready to talk" Dean asked expressionlessly. "I don't know anything" it insisted. Dean looked at his brother. "Oh, you hear that, Sam? He doesn't know anything." Sam nodded, also with no expression. "Yeah, I heard." "I'm telling you the truth" the demon cried desperately. "Oh, you are? My god, then I owe you an apology." Dean's words were heavily coated in sarcasm. "Allow me to make it up to you." Stepping forward, Dean gripped the demon by his chin, forced his mouth open, and squirted a generous helping of holy water down his throat. "I'm gonna ask you one last time...Who holds my contract?!" The demon gagged and spluttered in pain, rocking back and forth from the effects of the holy water. When he'd finally settled down again, his eyes flipped solid black and he smirked. "Your mother. Yeah, she, uh, showed it to me right before I bent her over." Dean set his jaw. "I want a name" he demanded coldly. "Or else..."
"Or what" the demon mocked. "You're gonna squirt your holy water in both ends? Please. Brother, that's like a fleabite compared to what's coming to me if I tell you jack. Do what you want. The only thing I'm scared of is the demon holding your ticket." Dean looked at Sam and nodded. Sam began reciting an exorcism calmly. "How does that feel" Dean wanted to know as the demon began shaking in its bindings, hissing in pain. "Does that feel good?" "Go ahead" the demon panted, grinding its teeth together. "Send me back to hell... 'Cause when you get there, I'll be waiting for you...with a few pals who are dying for a nice little meet and greet with Dean Winchester." Dean's heart leapt but outwardly he remained as stoic as ever. He nodded once at Sam. "Send him someplace he can't hurt anyone else."
The exorcism finished, Dean untied the body and hauled it outside to bury it in a deep hole in the middle of the woods where it would be undisturbed. After dusting off his hands, he returned to the cabin just in time to hear the end of Sam's phone conversation. "You ran the prints twice? Are you sure? Okay. Yeah, just chalk it up to lab error. Don't I know it. Okay. Thanks. Yeah, I'll tell the lieutenant." Dean pulled a beer can from their trusty travel-cooler, cracked it open and drained half in one go. Sam closed his phone and tossed it onto the table. "Bury the body?" "Yeah." Dean nodded affirmatively before collapsing onto the couch and taking another swig of beer. "What was the phone call about?" Sam took a seat at the table since Dean hadn't left him any room on the couch. "Remember that thing in the paper yesterday?" "Stripper suffocates dude with thighs" Dean recited with a fond smile. "The other thing" Sam corrected with a slight shake of his head. Dean nodded, remembering. "Right, the guy that walks into the E.R. and kneels over dead. His stomach was ripped out or something?" Not nearly as interesting of a story to read as the stripper one.
"His liver, actually" Sam corrected again. "Anyways, I just found out something pretty damn interesting." "Hmm" Dean murmured, closing his eyes and resting. "The dead body is covered in bloody fingerprints...that do not belong to the victim." "Okay, great. My man Dave Caruso will be stoked to hear it" Dean quipped without opening his eyes. "Those fingerprints match a guy who died in 1981" Sam finished, catching Dean's attention. Opening his eyes finally, he sat up on the couch. "Really. So, what are we talking? Uh, walking dead? Walking, killing dead?" Sam shrugged. "Maybe." "Zombies do like the other other white meat" Dean pointed out before squinting curiously at his brother. "Huh. Speaking of, what do you care about zombies?" Sam frowned, puzzled. "What do you mean?" Dean finished off his beer and crushed the can in one hand. "Well, you've been on soul-saving detail for months now. We're three weeks out, and all of a sudden, you're interested in some hot zombie action?"
Sam lifted his shoulders and then let them drop indifferently. "Hey, man, you're the one who's been all gung ho to hunt. I just thought I'd be doing you a favor, but if you don't want to..." "Hey, no, no, no, no, no. I didn't say I didn't want to do it, okay" Dean countered quickly. "I mean obviously I want to hunt some zombies." Sam gave his head a bemused shake, rising from the chair. "Ok, fine. Whatever." Dean bulleted up from the couch eagerly. It was zombie hunting time. There weren't many things that could even partially distract him from his impending date with hell...but this was sure one of them.
~~~
"Yeah, the rest of the body was intact. The liver was the only organ missing" the coroner explained. Dean nodded along with the explanation, swapping a tiny glance with Sam before asking, "Now, where the liver was ripped out, did you happen to notice any...ah...teeth marks?" The coroner gave them both looks that plainly questioned their sanity. "Can I see your badges again?" "Of course, sure" Sam agreed readily. They each reached into inner jacket pockets, surfacing with their current fake FBI badges, handing them over. She studied them for a second and then returned them. "Fine. So you're cops and morons." Dean was highly offended. "Excuse me? No, no. We're very smart." "The liver was not ripped out" she informed them briskly. "It was removed. Surgically. By someone who knew their way around a scalpel. Didn't you read my report?" Dean was still not over her 'moron' remark, so it was with quite a great deal of stiffness and lack of genuine sincerity that he replied with, "Of course we did. Oh, it was riveting. It was a real page-turner, just delightful." Sam looked at his feet to hide his growing smile. The coroner was not as amused. "You done?" Dean's lips twitched. "I think so." "Please go away." Dean exchanged a look with Sam, still grinning. "Ok."
~~~
"So, that kind of punches a hole in our zombie theory, huh, that scalpel thing" Sam observed as they walked away from the morgue. "Yeah, zombie with skills, "Dr. Quinn, medicine zombie"" Dean quipped, almost a little disappointed that they weren't dealing with zombies. Sam looked thoughtful. "Maybe we're on the wrong track, Dean, looking for hacked-up corpses." Dean wasn't quite following. "What should we be looking for?" "Survivors" Sam pointed out reasonably. "This isn't zombie lunch. This is organ theft."
~~~
"I told the cops all of this yesterday" the middle aged man informed them wearily from his bed in the hospital. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." "It's just a couple of questions, sir" Sam assured him patiently. "Hey, man. I just got my kidney stolen" he returned with a grouchy expression. "I'm tired." "We'll be out of here quick" Dean promised, tapping his open notepad with a pen. "Don't you want to get the guy?" "Will it get me back my kidney" the man asked sarcastically. The boys swapped a look before Sam tried again. "Feeding my meter" the man finally answered. "I got jumped from behind...and then I wake up strapped to a table. And then the worst pain you could possibly imagine, only worse. And then I black out again. Thank God. And then I wake up screaming in some no-tell motel in a bathtub full of ice!" Dean nodded along understandingly. "Do you remember anything about the surgery – you know, what the guy looked like, any details about the room?" The man looked between them slowly. "Let me think about that." He made a face as though trying to remember something. "Yeah...one thing is coming back to me. You know what I remember?" He raised his voice. "Getting my kidney cut out of my body!!!!" Dean gave a strained smile. "Ok. Thanks for your time."
Interview over.
The Winchesters stood side by side, arms crossed, in front of a chair in an abandoned cabin. The chair was in the exact center of a devil's trap, and tied to it with a lot of rope was a panting demon. "You ready to talk" Dean asked expressionlessly. "I don't know anything" it insisted. Dean looked at his brother. "Oh, you hear that, Sam? He doesn't know anything." Sam nodded, also with no expression. "Yeah, I heard." "I'm telling you the truth" the demon cried desperately. "Oh, you are? My god, then I owe you an apology." Dean's words were heavily coated in sarcasm. "Allow me to make it up to you." Stepping forward, Dean gripped the demon by his chin, forced his mouth open, and squirted a generous helping of holy water down his throat. "I'm gonna ask you one last time...Who holds my contract?!" The demon gagged and spluttered in pain, rocking back and forth from the effects of the holy water. When he'd finally settled down again, his eyes flipped solid black and he smirked. "Your mother. Yeah, she, uh, showed it to me right before I bent her over." Dean set his jaw. "I want a name" he demanded coldly. "Or else..."
"Or what" the demon mocked. "You're gonna squirt your holy water in both ends? Please. Brother, that's like a fleabite compared to what's coming to me if I tell you jack. Do what you want. The only thing I'm scared of is the demon holding your ticket." Dean looked at Sam and nodded. Sam began reciting an exorcism calmly. "How does that feel" Dean wanted to know as the demon began shaking in its bindings, hissing in pain. "Does that feel good?" "Go ahead" the demon panted, grinding its teeth together. "Send me back to hell... 'Cause when you get there, I'll be waiting for you...with a few pals who are dying for a nice little meet and greet with Dean Winchester." Dean's heart leapt but outwardly he remained as stoic as ever. He nodded once at Sam. "Send him someplace he can't hurt anyone else."
The exorcism finished, Dean untied the body and hauled it outside to bury it in a deep hole in the middle of the woods where it would be undisturbed. After dusting off his hands, he returned to the cabin just in time to hear the end of Sam's phone conversation. "You ran the prints twice? Are you sure? Okay. Yeah, just chalk it up to lab error. Don't I know it. Okay. Thanks. Yeah, I'll tell the lieutenant." Dean pulled a beer can from their trusty travel-cooler, cracked it open and drained half in one go. Sam closed his phone and tossed it onto the table. "Bury the body?" "Yeah." Dean nodded affirmatively before collapsing onto the couch and taking another swig of beer. "What was the phone call about?" Sam took a seat at the table since Dean hadn't left him any room on the couch. "Remember that thing in the paper yesterday?" "Stripper suffocates dude with thighs" Dean recited with a fond smile. "The other thing" Sam corrected with a slight shake of his head. Dean nodded, remembering. "Right, the guy that walks into the E.R. and kneels over dead. His stomach was ripped out or something?" Not nearly as interesting of a story to read as the stripper one.
"His liver, actually" Sam corrected again. "Anyways, I just found out something pretty damn interesting." "Hmm" Dean murmured, closing his eyes and resting. "The dead body is covered in bloody fingerprints...that do not belong to the victim." "Okay, great. My man Dave Caruso will be stoked to hear it" Dean quipped without opening his eyes. "Those fingerprints match a guy who died in 1981" Sam finished, catching Dean's attention. Opening his eyes finally, he sat up on the couch. "Really. So, what are we talking? Uh, walking dead? Walking, killing dead?" Sam shrugged. "Maybe." "Zombies do like the other other white meat" Dean pointed out before squinting curiously at his brother. "Huh. Speaking of, what do you care about zombies?" Sam frowned, puzzled. "What do you mean?" Dean finished off his beer and crushed the can in one hand. "Well, you've been on soul-saving detail for months now. We're three weeks out, and all of a sudden, you're interested in some hot zombie action?"
Sam lifted his shoulders and then let them drop indifferently. "Hey, man, you're the one who's been all gung ho to hunt. I just thought I'd be doing you a favor, but if you don't want to..." "Hey, no, no, no, no, no. I didn't say I didn't want to do it, okay" Dean countered quickly. "I mean obviously I want to hunt some zombies." Sam gave his head a bemused shake, rising from the chair. "Ok, fine. Whatever." Dean bulleted up from the couch eagerly. It was zombie hunting time. There weren't many things that could even partially distract him from his impending date with hell...but this was sure one of them.
~~~
"Yeah, the rest of the body was intact. The liver was the only organ missing" the coroner explained. Dean nodded along with the explanation, swapping a tiny glance with Sam before asking, "Now, where the liver was ripped out, did you happen to notice any...ah...teeth marks?" The coroner gave them both looks that plainly questioned their sanity. "Can I see your badges again?" "Of course, sure" Sam agreed readily. They each reached into inner jacket pockets, surfacing with their current fake FBI badges, handing them over. She studied them for a second and then returned them. "Fine. So you're cops and morons." Dean was highly offended. "Excuse me? No, no. We're very smart." "The liver was not ripped out" she informed them briskly. "It was removed. Surgically. By someone who knew their way around a scalpel. Didn't you read my report?" Dean was still not over her 'moron' remark, so it was with quite a great deal of stiffness and lack of genuine sincerity that he replied with, "Of course we did. Oh, it was riveting. It was a real page-turner, just delightful." Sam looked at his feet to hide his growing smile. The coroner was not as amused. "You done?" Dean's lips twitched. "I think so." "Please go away." Dean exchanged a look with Sam, still grinning. "Ok."
~~~
"So, that kind of punches a hole in our zombie theory, huh, that scalpel thing" Sam observed as they walked away from the morgue. "Yeah, zombie with skills, "Dr. Quinn, medicine zombie"" Dean quipped, almost a little disappointed that they weren't dealing with zombies. Sam looked thoughtful. "Maybe we're on the wrong track, Dean, looking for hacked-up corpses." Dean wasn't quite following. "What should we be looking for?" "Survivors" Sam pointed out reasonably. "This isn't zombie lunch. This is organ theft."
~~~
"I told the cops all of this yesterday" the middle aged man informed them wearily from his bed in the hospital. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." "It's just a couple of questions, sir" Sam assured him patiently. "Hey, man. I just got my kidney stolen" he returned with a grouchy expression. "I'm tired." "We'll be out of here quick" Dean promised, tapping his open notepad with a pen. "Don't you want to get the guy?" "Will it get me back my kidney" the man asked sarcastically. The boys swapped a look before Sam tried again. "Feeding my meter" the man finally answered. "I got jumped from behind...and then I wake up strapped to a table. And then the worst pain you could possibly imagine, only worse. And then I black out again. Thank God. And then I wake up screaming in some no-tell motel in a bathtub full of ice!" Dean nodded along understandingly. "Do you remember anything about the surgery – you know, what the guy looked like, any details about the room?" The man looked between them slowly. "Let me think about that." He made a face as though trying to remember something. "Yeah...one thing is coming back to me. You know what I remember?" He raised his voice. "Getting my kidney cut out of my body!!!!" Dean gave a strained smile. "Ok. Thanks for your time."
Interview over.
