milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Some things Dean just doesn't believe he has to do. Killing cursed teddy bears is high on this list. So is having to listen to Sam mock him about his recent teddy bear fetish for hours.

College boy's just lucky this is for a case. Otherwise he'd have to walk to the next city.

Dean's still in a shitty mood when he and Sam make it to Milliways.

It shows. Maybe a beer will help.

Sam's buying. Dean is definitely not ponying up this time.

[ooc: Plotlocked today. Sorry!]

[tinytag: Snuggle bear, Snuggleplot]

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"So--you gonna make me play twenty questions?"

Dean's just fucking with him now.

Mostly.

"Maybe. I mean, if you're into stuffed toys, kid games could be your thing these days."

He raises his eyebrows and adds,

"That's one."

"And next time you get to play Blind Man's Bluff."

Dean scowls. This is his threatening expression.

"Near a cliff. So spill, Sammy. Now."

He takes the time for another drink of his beer first, but when Sam sets the bottle back down he's all business.

"It's the dates. The killings-- they're happening on a regular basis."

"Any old outbreaks? I mean--this thing ain't like locusts, is it? Hibernating for a couple years here and there?"

Dean'd be all for hoping it would stop, but a seven year sleep'd make it real hard for them to take whatever-it-is down.

Goddammit.

"Not that long, no. Here, look--"

Sam reaches into his bag and digs out their dad's journal, turning to a few loose pages near the back that have notes scrawled on them in his own writing.

"--see? Here's the first one. Now count forward to the next." He taps the pages below the dates.

"Both on the fourth of the month."

Dean leans over, muttering under his breath.

"Huh. What about the next couple? They follow the same pattern?"

He's already flipping through Sam's notes, frowning.

"That's the thing. The way the reports were written up, it didn't look like it, but..."

He leans over and flips one page back, pointing at an area that he's underlined.

"... when you read this interview with one of the witnesses, it turns out the official report doesn't match the date of the actual murder."

He glances up at Dean.

"Sloppy work. Or someone just didn't care. Either way--"

"Fuck," Dean breathes out.

"That's it."

He looks up at Sam, expression intent.

"How much time we got?"

"Don't know for sure, what with how weird time is between here and everywhere else."

Sam's looking pretty grim himself as he meets Dean's eyes.

"But in any case, I'm thinking we need to get hold of Sallie and check things out back on Shadow pretty quick, if we can."

"Yeah."

Dean shoves one hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

"Pretty sure you're right. You wanna leave her a note or something? We can stay here a couple days, try and catch her when she comes in next."

"Sounds good. Be right back."

Sam picks up the journal and his bag and starts toward the bar, searching for a pen as he goes.

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