Rainbow Men 2/3

[mangacat201]

Title: Rainbow Men
Pairing: Gen (with veeeeeery heavy innuendo)
Word Count: 15,095
Warnings: not quite Xover (based on the Queer as Folk setting, but no actual characters, no need to know the show either) not quite Wincest (you won't get the full load from me, but there will be borderline situations... so no go for the squeamish)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If I owned the boys, d'you think I'd be here writing mere fiction?? NOOO, I'd be out doing QUITE different things, this doesn't even make money, either...
Summary: What do the boys do when something starts to diminish the gay population of Pittsburgh? Well... blend in of course!

Awesome banner always made by the brilliant insane_songbird
(Check out her gallery for me, eh?)
 

 

Ok, on with the show!! I’ll put them back after making them go through some very embarrassing situations!! Have fun!

 

 

 

“Aww, Sammy, it’s never good without some action. Now if the prats would leave without a fuss, what would be the point in hunting them down, eh? I’m itching for some fight anyway.”

“Yeah Dean, you would.”

 

Turns out, their plans for the evening didn’t head directly to the cemetery. Mitch and the crowd were hell-bent on taking them out to the bar called ‘Woody’s’ to ‘show them around for a little bit’. As they didn’t really have a good excuse, cause it was Dean and a BAR for God’s sake, they decided to leave the grave digging moment for later tonight. It wouldn’t really do good anyway to tell them, well, we got our dates on the romantic setting of the local cemeteries, and there’s no candlelight, but lighter fluid and salt… and quite the obnoxious stench. So they let themselves be dragged along to the establishment that looked to be quite up to Dean’s standards from the inside, even if the patrons were kind of a different colour. But he seemed to feel at home at once among the dark wooden tables, squatting at the bar and ordering a beer like he had already been here hundreds of times. Sam sat down right beside him, casually throwing an arm over his shoulders and purposefully ignoring the glare from his brother. The others chattered around them and asked what they had found out at the hospital today. They were disappointed to hear that there was nothing really substantial to be gained from the witness reports.

 

Consequently, the conversation moved on from the attacks to the next best thing on the gossip scale – Sam and Dean. Scratchy looked like a real flouncy kid, but he actually wore pretty though bandages when interrogating someone.

“So, Sam... Dean, I hear you’ve still got the skeletons in the closet at home?”

Dean looked up a bit confused at that, as if he had to count the skeletons first, but seemed to catch on pretty fast.

“Yeah, most people don’t know what we’re really up to.”

“Not even your parents?”

Dean took a swig of his beer, pondering mostly likely what to tell and what to leave.

“Well, no, my parents didn’t know.”

“Didn’t?” Scratchy raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, they’re dead… happened ages ago, don’t worry about it. So I don’t really know what they would’ve got to say about my lifestyle, but well, my uncle Bobby, he knows about everything I’ve been up to, and he’s pretty cool.”

The others murmured their condolences, but Dean only waved them off. Sam could see he wasn’t as cool as he pretended to be, thinking about Dad, but that was only obvious for someone who’d known him his whole life. Only when Scratchy turned to him did he notice that they were in a bit of a pat with the truth here…

“Well, I didn’t get off the hook as easily I presume. My Dad totally freaked when I told him I wanted something else from life than he did. Threw me out and told me to never come back again. I went to college and that was it. Dean’s been my family ever since…”

That one got him another ‘AWWW’- moment from the feminine fraction that finally sent Dean running.

 

“That’s it with the chick flick moments, anybody up to pool?”

Tom agreed to try and stand up to Dean – tough luck. Sam stayed at the bar and nursed his beer. Sean, an acquaintance of Mitch’s who been introduced by the group a bit earlier, sidled up with him while others moved around to sit at the tables nearer to the pool table.

“So, you had tough luck with your Dad?”

“Yeah, he didn’t quite get it that not wanting to live life like he did was actually possible.”

“Huh… you could say that. My dad hasn’t once in his life acknowledged that there could be something different about his son.”

Sam sighed remembering the conversation he’d had with his dad shortly before Salvation… about him being proud and all. Guess his cover story hadn’t been entirely truthful at last.

“It’s always difficult with parents I think, especially if you got disappoint their expectations. Come on, let’s move over, see how Dean kicks ass.”

 

The two opponents were already well into the game and Dean was wearing his usual cocky grin that spoke of money to be rolling in soon. Sam went up to him from behind when Tom had a shot and set his chin on Dean’s shoulder, whispering “Remember? No hustling with people who know where you live, especially if they’re in finances.” instead of the sweet it probably looked like. Dean winced slightly and then shrugged him off.

“Yeah sure, whatever.”

He went to take his shot, concentrating in the table and shifting in his position so much that Sam couldn’t resist the temptation. On his way to the tables where the others sat he slapped Dean on the butt, resulting in the cue ball jumping of the rim and bouncing in front of the audience that roared with laughter.

If looks could kill Sam would’ve been one dead puppy right now.

 

When the others decided to call it a night after some more friendly games and teasing banter, Sam and Dean both conveniently had some drinks to finish. They told the group to head home, they would be in a bit later. After making sure that Mitch, Ralf and rest of the ladies were on their way home safe and sound, they headed out to the car. On the drive to the cemetery, Dean wasted not a second to launch into a rant.

“Dude, I can’t believe I have to put up with all that touchy-feely stuff you dish out lately. You’re practically groping me all over, what the hell’s that about?”

“Well, Dean in case you’ve forgotten, we’re supposed to be a couple, which means at least a most basic level of physical intimacy. Besides, if I hadn’t laid claim, you would’ve been run over with offers!”

“Physical i… laid claim? Excuse me; let’s get out of the archaic here! And there would so NOT have been any offers.”

“Yeah, because the way half the guys eyed you at the bar was exactly innocent… back to front.”

Had he not had his hands firmly on the wheel, Dean suspected he might have been tempted to some really embarrassing hand action.

“They were checking me out, I mean for real?”

Sam rolled his eyes in a ‘well duh’-motion. Trust Dean to categorize every female into available, delectable and unacceptable the moment he came into a room, but have a completely broken gaydar.

 

After a few more details on Sam’s part and a few very wide-eyed stares on Dean’s part, they arrived at the cemetery. Finally Dean got to be on familiar territory again and concerning they were talking about a place to bury the dead it sure said something about his messed up mind. He shouldered the shovel and followed his brother through the maze of headstones and crypts to the designated place where Hugh Rupert Benson had been buried and was supposed to stay in the ground. When they finally found the grave, it had a rather ugly, bulky headstone that gave of the exact same impression his owner must have given off in life. Bundles of dry flowers were scattered all around it, looking not really as if the grave had received a very thoughtful maintenance. Dean shrugged and went to put the shovel to good use.

“Wait, Dean, stop!”

“What now? What are you doing…” Sam was sorting out the bundles.

“Saving you some futile digging for now. Look at these flowers… Rosemary, Lilies… Papaver and willow leaves… plus something that looks suspiciously like Datura. Just let me look…” Sam circled the headstone, looking closely at the black veined marble.

“Bingo, look over here.”

Dean joined his brother and finally saw the sign engraved into the side of the stone. It was a circle, a double wreath to be exact with something that looked like a dagger slashed through… such a sign combined with the flowers meant one thing.

“Witchcraft.”

“Yeah, someone’s been summoning that ghost, and with some pretty heavy duty stuff as well.”

“Sonofabitch!”

“Well Dean, just like you said, when’s it ever THAT easy!”

“That means digging up the bones right now won’t do shit… at least not until with find that would-be magician and knock over that little black altar. Great, and we haven’t got the slightest clue who could be behind it, because this fucker is THE gay-basher in town and it could be anyone from deluded followers to someone hiding behind the image.”

“Sometimes, Dean, your bursts of wit scare the crap out of me. It means we gotta stay a little bit longer and do some serious research among the usual suspects.”

“Yeah, yeah, glee thy name is Sam. You’re actually enjoying this, are you? It’s like big brother teasing paradise. But just so you know, this going to go the other way round soon.”

“Awwww… don’t be so grumpy. Have a little fun!”

“Sure, getting patted and groped and ogled all the time! Fun!”

“That’s equalization, Dean.”

 

The next morning saw Dean waking because something wasn’t quite right… again. When he registered the additional knee shoved between his usual ones tangled in the sheets and the quite sturdy arm cushioning his head, he was clued in fast enough. Damn, his little brother sure had a streak for protective cuddling. To make sure said little brother didn’t wake up to their once again very embarrassing set-up, he untangled his limbs carefully and got out of bed, leaving Sam to retract his arm up to his head, burrowing his nose into the pillow.

If Dean hadn’t been such an upstanding, no-nonsense, very straight man, he would’ve actually thought it endearing. As it was, he just looked at the clock and the bedside table and noted it was half past eight… perfect time for breakfast. Monica had made them pancakes and Dean relished in the taste of homemade pancakes, complimenting the woman until she shushed him for his flattery and told him he was supposed to leave some for his boyfriend. He told her in turn that if said boyfriend was too exhausted from last night’s activities to get up at a decent time, he would have to live with low pancake rates. It warranted quite a few cat calls from around the table though and Dean began to get the feeling that his usual cocky self worked with group as well, so in the back of his mind, a plan began to formulate itself. When Sam finally came thundering down the stairs into the kitchen almost an hour later his hair dishevelled and shirt buttoned the wrong way from waking up and finding Dean gone without as much as a note, everybody laughed and Dean told Sam to relax. When Sam asked why they were laughing, all he got was secretive grins. It showed although, that they were by no means used to leading a normal life where people woke up, knowing their brothers were down at the breakfast table and not kidnapped by some ass creepy thing that had crawled out from under the bed.

 

Sam wanted to spend the day at the local library, trying to find out what exactly it was that evoked the spirit and if there were signs that could be traced back to the actual culprit. He found out that he’d been right and the flowers and herbs at the grave were all connected to the dead and the mourning. On his research in the net he actually found the symbol on the headstone to be some kind of binding link, confining a spirit to a certain area. Huh… that would actually have been a useful one for hunting if it didn’t require some remains of the deceased to seal it in the first place. If they had to dig up the bones just to confine the spirit around the grave where it would attack them, they could do the salt n’ burn and get over with it more quickly. But it proved one thing… if there hadn’t been some digging up done to grave before – and it had looked rather undisturbed until Dean and his shovel came near it – then their witch had had something from the beginning, which meant a connection of some sort to Hugh Benson. He’d sent Dean around some of the more conservative establishments, feeling around for possible old buddies or other minions that could be interested in using Benson’s spirit for random gay-bashing. Unfortunately, the hints at the grave didn’t point out how the spook was controlled to attack certain people, which was a whole different colour than just evoking something. He couldn’t know for sure how their target was doing it until they found the altar or something along those lines that meant he couldn’t start looking for ways to get rid of it really. By the time Dean came around to pick him up again sometime around five, he was really frustrated and not a bit farther. Dean didn’t fare much better concerning his mood.

“Dude, I tell you I’m definitely a ladies man, but whatever rocks your boat. But you see, these people? Tolerance level like zero, for everything that’s got nothing to do with garden gnomes and country club. I felt like a roach and now I positively reek square… they even eyed me for the leather jacket! I’m so gonna hit the shower when we’re home, hope to God, please get that air freshener out of my hair.”

Sam chuckled, refraining from telling Dean just how gay that sentence had sounded there. When they got back, he let his brother have his shower, which turn out to last longer than the average, lounging on the bed all the while he tried to keep his stomach from growling at the prospect of dinner.

 

Dean stalked out of the bathroom, towel around his hips, using a second one to dry his hair and walked over to Sam, who sat up on the edge of the bed.

“Now Sammy, you up to something dirty?” He asked, cocking his hips suggestively.

Sam gapped at him in utter shock.

“No Dean, I’m most definitely not up to something DIRTY… we’re straight and you’re my big brother for God’s sake!! Besides, it’s almost time for dinner, so what are you on about?”

“That’s exactly the point. Like you said, we’re a couple of young, incredibly handsome, supposedly gay males alone in a room with one bed and lots of time to spare. Better make it believable! BESIDES,” he used the towel to slap Sam on the abdomen, making him flinch, “your ‘gorgeous’ body could use some exercise… so, on your knees Sammy.”

 

Ralf made his way up to room thirteen… after the boys hadn’t shown up for regular dinner time and didn’t seem to be drawn out by the delicious fumes permeating through the air he felt obliged to remind them to come down for the evening meal. When he came up to the door he knocked twice and piped “Boys, dinner’s ready, so if you want to have some you should come down now.”

What answered him from behind the closed door was a long deep groan.

Ralf raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t refrain from leaning a little closer to the door. He heard a voice, seemingly oblivious of his former inquiry, sounding a bit breathless.

“Now Sammy, that’s all you got? That’s roughly three inches… come on, try and push a little harder!”

Another moan was followed by a little sigh.

“Now, that’s my boy.”

Ralf straightened, a devious little smile playing about his lips.

“Ok boys, you seem to be busy… alright just come down whenever you’re ready!”

 

The other side of the door saw Dean sitting on his brother’s broad back quite comfortably. Sam, however, had no such luck as he was the one trying to do the push-ups, stemming his brother’s weight as well.

“Ugh... he gone? Huff, I’m sooo going to kill you for that! That’s got to be the single most embarrassing moment in my life.”

Sam bucked up to throw his brother of his shoulders, not a difficult feat as Dean heaving with laughter he’d tried to keep in practically the whole time until Ralf had come up the stairs.

“Nghnhhh... that’s what you get for slapping people’s butts. You made your single bed, now you got to lie in it.”

Dean got up to dress and get ready for dinner as the ‘physical exertion’ had him quite famished. Sam debated on actually tackling him with a tickling attack for that one, but the hunger won out.

 

Ralf came down into the kitchen/dining room with the most mischievous grin playing around on his face when he sat down between the group that today consisted of Mitch, Scratchy, Axel, Sanjay and the two girls, Rose and Vivian. Monica turned around from the stove to put the pot on the table, taking on a puzzled look.

“Now Ralf, where are the boys? I thought you went up to get them!”

“Let’s just say I don’t think they’ll be down for another ten minutes or so… at least it sounded like it.”

Everyone threw him dirty looks and then guffawed out loud.

“Oh Ralf, you didn’t!”

That was Rose.

“Tell more!”

That was Mitch.

“Oh crap, such studs, a couple AND an existing sex life, it’s unfair.”

Sanjay had let his head drop on the table.

“Somebody talking about me?”

That was Dean as he came strutting through the door a still slightly dishevelled Sam hot on his trails.

 

The people around the table all had a stunned expression, not having expected them down so soon. Looking back Sam thought they’d probably should have waited for a bit more, but his stomach had growled so loud that Dean had ushered him out immediately after dressing.

“Well, I didn’t expect you down so soon!”

“What can I say, Ralf my boy, we were just about to wrap it up. Don’t worry, you missed nothing important.”

The stunned silence stretched some very awkward moments until Monica finally set down that pot and made them all sit down and eat in peace. The banter started again in no time, but it was comfortable and friendly. Sam and Dean were happily swimming in the shallow waters of small talk about not really having found anything valuable on the case for now when it came to the plans of the group for the evening again.

“So, watcha say guys, you up to a bit of clubbing tonight?”

“Clubbing, where?”

“Oh, we’re got a place round here, it’s Babylon, we’re there ‘bout once a week to dance and mingle a bit. The drinks are awesome!”

Sam and Dean shared a look, silently communicating about the topics of GAY dance club, need for research and not raising suspicions.

“Look guys, we’d really like to go, but I’m afraid our wardrobe is not really equipped for a club night right now,” Sam answered, when their gazes snapped back into the round.

He met a met a range of big round eyes and then Rose piped up.

“You kidding? That’s not a problem at all. You’ll be up to it in no time, trust us!”

 

The sleek black car was purring her way down the almost deserted late-night streets of Pittsburgh, following two pretty much less elegant vehicles to their destination. After taking a left turn into an alley where quite a few people were already standing around in the street, they passed the club entrance adorned with a flashy neon sign. Lots of eyes followed the foreign car as it parked a little way back from the entrance, waiting for the new guys to get out. The passenger door opened first, and getting out was a huge, steel-muscled man who turned back around in the door talking to the driver still inside of the car.

Sam tried not to look around self-consciously; his club wear was actually not that far from his usual attire. Loose jeans, ripped at certain places, heavy boots and a white wife-beater, which was completed by two bandanas wrapped around his wrists and palms like a boxers tapes and a bout of sexily tousled just-out-of-bed hair. Additionally, Vivian had made him wears some powder that made the skin on his arms, neck and face shimmer all bronze and golden like he’d just stepped out of the Californian sun. He looked for the others parking their cars and getting over to the Impala, and turned back to wait for Dean to exit the car.

The driver’s door opened and foot appeared encased in a dark cowboy boot that was followed up by a leg clad into a pair of the tightest black leather pants. The rest of Dean emerged wearing only his beloved leather jacket over his bare chest, the pendant lying directly on his skin. His eyes were shaded by big sunglasses and he leaned on the door looking for all it was worth like he owned the place.

Then he turned around, looking at Sam over the roof of the car and adjusted the pants around his groin.

“Damn, these things are so tight; I wonder how any man who values his marbles would agree to wear them.” 

 

Sam rolled his eyes at him, closed the door and walked around the car to wait on Dean’s side for the others to catch up with them. Mitch and Scratchy arrived first, Ralf and the girls moved at a more leisurely pace. They had all watched the entrance of their evening’s works and noted the looks that had been thrown around. Scratchy was positively squealing with excitement.

“You two look positively. Delectable! If I didn’t know you were firmly taken, Dean, I’d eat you up right here against the car.”

“Alright, rule number one, no funny business with the car! Only ones who get a ride in there is me and Sam.”

That started off another round of roaring laughter and the group worked their way to the club all the while.

 

When they actually came through the entrance, it was to a factory style interior, a strobe of colourful lights, scantily clad dancers performing on the bar and platforms and a roaring crowd on the dance floor moving their bodies to the powerful bass of the music. Dean’s eyes widened in astonishment he was glad to be hiding behind the generous sunglasses. Only Sam seemed to notice his brother’s awe. While Dean was very much acquainted with the accommodations of seedy bars and the like, he had never much cared nor had the time to get into a serious clubbing scene. The sheer mass of noise and gyrating bodies seemed to overwhelm him as he made his way over to the very familiar lifeline – the bar. Sam followed closely with the other boys in tow… they lost the girls quickly in the crowd as they went looking for more friends that had promised to show up tonight.

 

Dean had reached the bar with a swagger, apparently landing on his feet once again without batting so much as an eyelash. He took the sunglasses from his nose, put them into his jacket and had a bartender running up to him in the blink of an eye.

“Something strong, cold and decidedly NOT colourful.”

He got glass of Jack, tipped it thankfully to the bartender and took a big swig at once. The others gathered around them at the bar that was illuminated by bright white lights behind milky glass. Sam leaned against the bar on Dean’s right side, Mitch to his left a bit of space between them and Ralf throwing his arm about Mitch’s shoulders from the other side. Sam got himself a beer and nursed it slowly, observing his brother out of the corner of his eye. While his presence at the Woody’s had been very obvious and intimidating to most of the patrons, Dean was fair game in here. He didn’t really wonder about proposals of his own as long as he stood next to his brother.

 

And Sam should be proven right as always… no sooner than he was about to finish his drink was Dean approached by a bulky man with practically no neck, but a predatory gleam in his eye. He wedged himself into the space beside Dean and Mitch and brought his mouth to the young man’s ear. Simultaneously, Dean felt a thumb hooking into the back of his pants, the rest of the hand splayed out at a place where it definitely had no business to be.

“What do you say, sweetcheeks, why not the ditch the boring company here and move this to a more exciting level?”

Ralf and Mitch stared wide-eyed while Sam eyed the hand on his brother’s butt disdainfully knowing it would be taken care of in a second. And true to his word, Dean didn’t even miss a beat and in one fluid motion had the offending hand bent back in a vicelike grip that could have easily broken all fingers at once, given the pressure to be adjusted.

“I’m good, thanks, and if your filthy paw ever comes near that arse again inside a fifteen feet radius, I’m going to break all the bones in your hand into so many pretty little pieces that they’ll rattle all the way down your elbow without help.”

 

The man’s face had turned a different shade of pale with each word, probably also because of the increasing pressure that was just bordering on keeping his promise at once. In the end he was allowed to scuttle off with no more than sever bruising to fingers and ego, but Dean had made his point and turned around to order another drink.

Ralf and Mitch still hadn’t shaken their stupor and now turned to Sam owlishly blinking, as if asking what the hell had just happened here. Sam just shrugged his shoulders and cocked and eyebrow.

“He’s a bossy bottom, you know?”

Ralf answered at once: “I noticed.”

Sam saw the glint in his brother’s eyes when his words registered a few seconds later and he decided to use the protection of the crowd and excused himself to go for some dancing among the bunch in order to escape the wrath of Dean.

 

Dean watched his brother vanish into the dancing crowd – well not quite vanishing as he had still about three inches at least over most of the men and women – sipping his drink and grumbling under his breath. Now he get to being assaulted from one second to the other and his brother’s got nothing better to do than taunt him. Well, at least that guy would be careful for a while whose behind he touched.

“That’s pretty impressive show you put on there… he had it coming for ages.”

Dean snuck a glance at the guy that had taken Sam’s place, leaning at the bar.

“Yeah, well, he should have thought about where to put his hands in the first place. But you look familiar somehow… you were with us at the bar yesterday, weren’t you?”

The guy stuck out a hand for Dean to take.

“Yeah, Sean… we didn’t come around to get introduced properly yesterday. I just saw Sam and thought I’d come over for a bit.”

“Well, you missed him by seconds I’m afraid.”

“It’s not a big deal, I wanted to ask you about your necklace anyway, mean something special?”

Dean looked down at the pendant lying comfortably against his chest.

“Protection, some sort, if you believe in it that is. Why, you know your way around that stuff?”

“Oh no, not really, just a few esoteric books lying about at my place, just a hobby really. I like most of the signs and shapes for jewellery mostly.”

Dean nodded, but didn’t say anything more about it... if these kids new what they were playing around with sometimes… well, there sure would be less stores about selling the stuff that got teenagers tailed by angry spirits or dangerous fairies – with or without the needle-pins.

 

Dean looked on the dance floor after throwing back his drink and saw that there was quite a bunch gathered near one particular point at the left hand side. Most surprisingly that point turned out to be quite easily identified as his little brother, moving his big limbs rather skilfully to the booming music. He noticed that Sam seemed to attract a big lot of attention and that he was dancing closely with another man like a fish that belonged into water. But Dean would be damned if he let his little brother get the better of him. Sam had been leading on this case at a far greater proportion than Dean was officially comfortable with. Looks like it was time to put these moving skill that he had acquired as a part of the hunter life to good, if a bit unconventional use. He turned to Sean to excuse himself.

“You know, I think I’m gonna do a bit of dancing myself now… someone has to be reminded where to put HIS hands.”

Sean grinned and waved him off, and Dean went into the crowd thinking about how he was really starting to enjoy coming up with all this innuendo. Being the gay private-investigator was really not that different from being the next government agent… just it was much more fun.

 

He weaved his way to packed crowd with a predatory grace zeroing on his destination. There was Sam rather shamelessly being danced at by a ponce that had no business messing around with his little brother. So he had no scruples to grab Sammy at the biceps and spin him around to face him, never missing a beat in his pace. Sam’s eyes widened when he saw who had turned him around, but he complied with Dean’s rhythm just as the music turned from its ear-splitting thump to a moderately slow pace. The elder man hesitated for one beat and then boldly threw his arms around Sam’s shoulders, drawing him close.

“You having fun around here?”

“Well, yeah, it’s been quite a while since I had the opportunity to dance, no matter where. But I didn’t think you’d be up to joining me here.”

“Now, Sammy what can I say, can’t have you flirting around like that, somehow I gotta make sure everyone knows you’re my bitch.”

That made Sam throw his head back laughing.

“Jerk…” he answered with a fond smile.

 

They stayed on the dance floor a few more minutes bickering and bantering, keeping up the image of leisurely dancing couple. When the next song moved up the beat for a bit again, Dean found out that he was certainly good at throwing his arms over the head moving his hips along with the rhythm, making once again a stunning picture with even more skin of his fit upper body revealed to the masses. Dean just relaxed and fell into the beat, letting Sam take care of any approaching suitors with the puppy pout turned death glare. Nevertheless, after a few more rounds he began to feel the fatigue of having spent the whole day on his feet running research and garden gnoms over half the town and he tucked Sam along back to the bar. Even if he was quite good at keeping awake and alert in life and death-hunting situations, this was decidedly not one of those and he had long since learned to not waste his energy when not absolutely necessary. Or that’s what he liked to tell himself… later that night.

 

After a couple of more drinks they’d managed to get the group together again, minus Scratchy, who would obviously be leaving in different, well-built company. They had lots of fun with Mitch launching into the tale of Babylon’s seasonal shows and events they could attend if the case turned out to keep them here for longer. Sam and Dean exchanged a short glance at that conveying what they both thought. With the negative overabundance of hints they had on this one they could very well happen to be stuck here for the rest of the year waiting for the next attack to happen. And they couldn’t just abandon the case either as they had grown to really like the bunch… that aside there was a damn witch on the run and that would just not do.

 

 

Ok, now there’s only a ‘wrap it up’ around as the last part, I hope you liked it, laughed and reward me with reviews!! They make the merry wide world go round!

Cat

Chapter three