Chapter Text
Smoke went up from His nostrils and devouring fire from His mouth... (2 Samuel 22:9 NKJV)
Detective Jane Vernon stared across the table at him and asked, "Sam, tell me what happened in that room."
Sam's eyes darted around, desperately trying to find anything to look at besides meeting the eyes of the female detective. He tugged on his restraints rhythmically, feeling the comforting pain cut into his wrists.
"Sam." she spoke again.
His eyes suddenly met hers with a fiery intensity and his lips opened to whisper the word, "Dean."
"Dean?" Detective Granger asked now, his eyes floating over his hunched posture and gaunt body.
Sam leaned in closer, his cuffs pulled taught, "Dean wanted me to kill the demon but I couldn't." Sam let out a strange sigh, a clearing of spindly thoughts that curled around his mind, "He told me he'd leave me with her, he told me he'd leave. Told me, told me told me." The words spilled out of his mouth like water, he felt like he was vomiting, "But then he didn't. He put the knife in, in her, she was evil he said, a monster, a demon, evil evil evil. Maybe she, I think she was, a demon. He put the knife in and he took the demon out. Dean says blood is purifying. I don't know, I don't know what that means. Do you?"
He turned to look at Mike Granger and he shivered. The eyes were so strange, like pools of innocence and confusion mixed up with a deep crazy. They didn't look like the eyes of a man at all.
"Sam." Vernon began again, trying to steer the conversation back to the important topic, "After he killed Michelle, what did Dean do next?"
Sam blinked, his mind turning as if it was filled with gears, "He left."
"Why? Where did he go?"
"Pie." Sam said simply, "Dean loves pie."
Vernon turned to Granger and asked, "Do you smell smoke?"
Suddenly the door burst open, the lock shattering and clanging to the ground as a shotgun filled Vernon's vision. Granger fumbled with his holster trying to free his pistol from it's confines before a single shot rang out, deafening, the noise echoing around the small space. Vernon looked to her partner and watched as the red started to burst out from his wound and seep into his shirt. She rushed to his side and pressed her hands over the hole, the hot liquid slipping between her fingers.
"Hang in there Mike." she almost sobbed, she turned to look at their assailant and her eyes narrowed. She'd recognize those features anywhere.
Dean Winchester stared them down with a smirk on his face, his sawn-off shotgun still pointed squarely at the two officers.
"Hello little brother." he said, his eyes finding Sam's.
Sam breathed, "Dean."
Dean looked back at the two officers, "A little help for my brother? Keys."
Vernon didn't move as she still kept her hands over her partner's chest.
"Oh baby I highly doubt that buddy of yours is gonna live much longer, you sweetie on the other hand have a choice to make." he shifted the shotgun in his hand menacingly, "So get up and free my little brother."
Vernon glanced at her partner again who was already out cold and back up at the man with the shotgun, she stood, wiping her bloody hands on her jeans; she took out her keys and unlocked the man chained to the table. When her task was done she went back to her charge and once again tried to stem the blood flow. If he was still alive he had a chance and she wouldn't let go of it. She remembered the time Mike had asked her out for dinner and how she'd declined, how she'd cited conflict and interoffice dating policies but right now, holding him together with her bare hands, she had to be honest that she was scared; she was scared that she might love him and loving someone meant the possibility of losing them so she'd decided it was better to never love anyone.
Dean pulled his brother behind himself and smiled, "Thanks. But now I don't need you." he rose the shot gun up and pointed it at Vernon, his finger hovering over the trigger but as he squeezed he found his legs gripped by a strong force that pulled the barrel up and away, firing harmlessly at the ceiling. He looked down and found
Granger curled around his body. With Dean's twin barrels empty he instead shoved the butt of the gun down to smash the detective's face and have him tumble to the ground.
Dean laughed, "Awe how cute? The sow has a bo. I can't break up true love now can I?" he picked up the keys Vernon had discarded on the table and turned to leave, locking the door behind him and the two detective's inside the interrogation room.
Jane went and clutched at her partner, "Why did you do that?"
"Because Jane..." he coughed, "He was going to shoot you."
"But you had a chance."
"Not without you."
Mike's eyes began to flutter as Jane held him tighter, her eyes on the pellet holes in the ceiling, "I...I think I...I think I want to go on that date." but when she looked back at her partner he was already gone. Tears began to well up in her eyes. It was too late, it was always too late.
Dean pulled his brother along as they walked through the police precinct, scattered papers on the floor and blood pooling around the bodies of various officers. There had been a fight here and small fires were scattered around as well. Smoke filtered around their feet and Sam thought he smelt something spicy, tear gas his broken mind helpfully provided.
"Little brother, you almost disappointed me." Dean said as he continued to drag Sam through the wreckage.
Sam's eyes fluttered around the scene, "I'm sorry Dean."
But then Dean smiled, "Almost. You did good work there with that bitch Michelle. You'll learn the family business well I think."
But Sam didn't understand, couldn't understand; to him Dean had killed Michelle, had to have killed Michelle because Sam knew he was a good person and good people don't kill, unlike Dean; still it was praise from Dean so he smiled back at his brother and nodded, it was good to be praised.
The two walked through the station door, the smoke curling out of it, around their feet and out into the world before them.