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Bound	By : FireSage Category: Supernatural > Het - Male/Female Views: 4026 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the show Supernatural not have I made any money off this work. I do however own the original characters. You may not have them unless you ask. Thank you.

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A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for choosing to read my fic. It was very nice of you. Just to let you know this is my first ‘Supernatural’ fic ever, so be gentle. Also, on that note, I would love some feedback on it (to make sure I have all of the character right and such). Ok, hope you enjoy!

            Have you ever had one of those days that you just know are gonna suck? Like some mystical force from some distant place is telling you ‘Hey, you should not get out of bed today, shit is gonna hit the fan.’ Sam sometimes felt that way. He would get that message in his brain and be fully prepared to go ‘you are absolutely right oh cosmic force! I should not get out of bed.’ Sadly he didn’t have the option to do that and had to ignore it. Unlike his brother…who did not like to be ignored.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up.” Sam sputtered awake as he was wacked with a pillow again in his brother’s not so gentle approach to wake him.

            “God! What’s your problem?!”

            “Get up we got work to do.”

            “On what?!”

            “This.” Dean tosses his younger brother a local paper while he sips his coffee.

            Sam glares at him for a moment then blinks his eyes focused to read the words. “Local man found dead in a car. Ooo spooky,”

            “Keep reading,” Dean scolds at this brother’s sarcasm. Sam sighs, but continues.

            “James Anderson, age 28, was found dead in his car last Tuesday. Sources have yet to confirm the cause of his death as his person seemed to be completely intact save for a burn on his hand that appeared several days old and all personal items remained on his person. If you have any information on who may be involved in the possible homicide of this man, please contact the authorities. So?”

            “So? 28 year old mysteriously dies in a parked car and all you have to say is so?” Dean asked as his brother tossed the paper aside.

            “Did the autopsy say anything?”

            “Nothing, called ‘em this mornin’. He just upped and died for no reason. Check out the burn.” Sam grabbed the paper again and looked at the picture the reporters had posted of the burn in the palm of his hand.

            “Looks kinda like some symbol or something.” He admitted.

            “Dad’s got somethin’ like this in his book,” Dean said, excited that he had the jump on his smarty pants brother, “comes from something called a Death Dealer. They’re supposedly demons that come and take the souls of those knockin’ on the door in exchange for something. Kinda like Ghost Rider.”

            “Like who?”

            “Sammy, really?” Dean questioned his bewildered brother and shook his head, “Forget it. Just get up and get dressed. Somethin’ nice,”

            “Why?” Sam asked, finally sitting up and rubbing the crust from his eyes.

            “’Cause we got work to do little brother,” Dean answers with a smirk and goes out to wait in the Impala.

***************

            The neighborhood that they had driven to was a picturesque little town somewhere in Pennsylvania. It was all green lawns, white fences, and unblemished sidewalks for middle aged woman in pink sweat suits to power walk their 5 pound dogs. Though Dean and Sam disagreed on suburban life style, this made both of them a little sick.

            “Don’t you feel, I don’t know, a little weird about going to a funeral for someone you don’t even know?” Sam asked as they got out of the Impala in front of a quant house on a slight hill. No matter how many times they did this, he still felt weird.

            “Not really. Funerals bring out the best in people. Everyone hugs and cries and talks about how great the person was no matter how much of an ass hole they were in real life. It’s nice, if you’re into that superficial crap. Hello….” Dean’s musing about the benefits of funerals was interrupted a bike pulled up in front of the quant house and a lanky brunette in dark jeans and black mesh scarf slid off the back with a dirty blonde in a denim skirt and cowboy boots hopped off after her.

            “You aren’t seriously thinking about picking someone up at a funeral.” Sam chastised as he watched his brother lecherously follow the blonde’s and brunette’s figures as they marched up the small hill.

            “Hey, what can I say? Funerals bring out the best in everyone. Everyone hugs and cries, and someone needs to be that shoulder to cry on.” Dean said with a smirk and a wink at the other. Sam to look up at the sky for a moment before following the older Winchester up to the house.

            Inside the house was the typical scene. People, all in black, mingling in small groups, probably discussing how much of a great person what’s-his-face was, over small clear plastic cups of punch. “Ok, game plan. You go talk to some people over there, I’m gonna go look for leads over here, and we’ll meet back in ten.”

            “You just want to go find those girls.” Sam accused.

            “Hey! I am nothing but the picture of professionalism!” Dean countered in a hurt tone, “However, if being professional means getting closer to some information by having a few drink with a hot girl or two so be it.” Sam rolled his eyes as his brother walked away. Sometimes he couldn’t believe that they were related.

            Dean weaved through the mourning masses. He finally found what he was looking for next to a snack table that had been set up for the funeral guests. Two of his favorite things, free food and hot women.

            “Nice weather hn?” The blonde looked up from her napkin of cheese cubes to look at the man standing next to her, then back down at her cheddar.

            “Yeah, great day for a funeral,” She replied sarcastically, picking up some other finger food, sniffing it, and with a shrug put it on her napkin.

            “Sorry, I..didn’t mean it like that.”

            “I’m sure. You meant it as a pick up line.” She retorted with the same casualty as his weather remark. Dean laughed nervously,

            “Ok, busted. I was trying to talk to you.”

            “Do you make a habit of picking girls up at funerals?”

            “Do you make a habit of stocking up on cheese and mini quiche?” The girl looked down at her napkin, seeing that she had indeed acquired a large portion of cheese cubes and finger foods in a somewhat neat mound in her hand.

            “Not frequently,” She said, grabbing a small paper plate and transferring the contents of her hand on to it.

            “Same here,” He replied, “Jack Daniels,” He added, extending his hand.

            “Skyy,” Dean looked at her confused.

            “Seriously?”

            “No, but I figured since we were giving out fake names I might as well pick an alcohol too.” Dean arched a brow again, “Jack Daniels?” She asked, “Come on, no parent is that cruel.”

            “You think so?” He asked, leaning against the snack table with her.

            “Well, I mean, they could. If there are people out there willing to name their kids after fruit and seasons, I guess they can name them after booze too.” She said off hand, stabbing a toothpick into some pepper jack. Dean smirked and gave a chuckle.

            “So, how did you know..you know?”

            “James?” She asked with a brow arch.

            “Yea, it’s just, so hard to think about..James.”

            “Riiight. He’s my cousin, Dad’s side.” Dean nodded.

            “We’re you guys close? Hang out? Knew who his friends were?”

            “Nope. Weren’t close, didn’t hang out, didn’t know his friends. You sure don’t know a whole hell of a lot for someone who’s supposed to be his friend or…whatever.”

            “Well you seem pretty stand offish for family or…whatever.” He countered.

            “Who said family has to be close?” She asked giving the slightly taller man a reason to frown a little.

            He was going to talk to her some more, for information gathering only of course, when a rather flustered brunette came up to them. “We need to leave.” She said, as she glanced around the room, “hi.” She added noticing Dean who nodded. Upon further inspection, the brunette wasn’t all that lanky up close. She was skinny, but more athletic skinny than model skinny. Almost like a dancer but still curvy in all the right places like her partner. And if Dean was being honest she had a nicer ass than the blonde. The blonde had a bigger rack though, and if Dean was still being honest he was much more of a rack man than an ass man.

            “We just got here, and look tiny sandwiches!” The blonde rebutled sarcastically, but her fake smile was whipped off when an elderly woman with salt and pepper hair appeared in the living room entrance and locked onto the duo with a fierce expression. “Aw hell,” She said sitting her plate down on the table and crossing her arms, making no attempt to escape the obviously angry woman about to descend on them.

            “What are you two doing here?!” The older woman hissed. Dean, though an all things spooky hunter extraordinaire, took a step back a little frightfully from the older woman to go place himself by his brothers who just walked in.

            “That’s the victim’s mother over there,” Sam said, nodding to said terrifying woman.

            “Yeah, and that’s the vic’s cousin.” He said in return, watching the scene carefully from the sidelines.

            “The one you were trying to pick up?” Same asked, but was shushed as he tried to over hear what the small group was saying.

“Did you just show up to your cousin’s funeral on a motorcycle?” She hissed.

            “Well, we could say no, but it’s gonna seem kinda asinine when we do it.” The blonde said casually. The brunette looked like she might want to crawl in a hole, but stood tall.

            “Have you no shame?! Showing up here, dressed like that, for God sakes do you even care that James is dead?!”

            “Hey, we’re here aren’t we?!” The blonde snapped. She uncrossed her arms and stepping closer to the older woman who seemed concerned. Her partner put her hands on the women’s shoulders.

            “We just came to say goodbye to James, not to fight.”

            “Don’t you touch me!” The older woman screeched, loud enough to alert everyone in the room, as she smacked the girl’s hand away. “James is dead because of you! You and your mother’s trash!” She yelled at them. “Get out! Get out of my house!”

            The younger women put on different expressions at the outburst. One, of disgusted indifference, and the other of mournful empathy. “Alright Aunt Ellen,” The brunette said solemnly as she walked towards the door. The blonde straightened and gave the bitter old woman a head to tow look before turning around.

            “I’m taken my snacks,” and walked off.

            When the front door slammed shut and the dull whisper of the rest of those attending began to fill the room, the Winchester boys looked at each other curiously.

            “What was that about?” Sam asked, unsure of the situation.

            “I don’t know. Bad blood obviously,” Dean hesitantly stated back.

            “Do you think she was right? That they had something to do with the death?”

            “Didn’t get the spooky psycho vibe from Blondie when I talked to her, the other one looks a little trigger shy.” Dean reasoned.

            “No one else I talked to had any leads. I don’t think anyone here does except what the paper said. If this is something else we aren’t going to get anything here.” Sam replied.

            “That’s not true,” Dean counter after a moment, walking over to the widow mother Anderson to ask her a few questions.
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