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“Six dead, found this morning, no ID on the vics yet,” Dean said, pulling up behind a police cruiser.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Dean, I know. I showed you the case, remember?”
“Shut up, Sammy. Just brushing up.”
They Winchesters stepped out of the Impala and sauntered over to the chief of police. They flashed their badges as Dean announced “I’m Agent Abbott and this is my partner, Agent Costello.”
The chief looked up and froze when she saw them. Dean shifted under her gaze and shared a glance with Sam. What’s up with her?
Dunno. Sam shrugged slightly.
The officer glanced behind the brothers and spotted the Impala. She groaned. “Agents, my ass. You’re Sam and Dean Winchester, you hunt monsters, you’ve each got a rap sheet as long as that Impala you drive-”
Dean laughed shakily, trying to save the situation, but the chief held up her hands and continued, “-and I’d lock you both up and throw away the key if it wasn’t for the six half-eaten corpses covered with purple goo we’ve got stinking up the back room of this shop right now. Come on, I’ll show you.” With that, she pulled open the door of the shop and disappeared inside.
“What the hell just happened?” Dean hissed.
“I- I think we got a reputation,” Sam replied. They stared after the police chief.
“This is Henrickson all over again,” Sam grimaced.
Dean shrugged. “That turned out okay in the end, right?”
“Uh, in the grand scheme of things, no it didn’t.”
“Dude, I’m as happy about this as you are. But she just said she’s not gonna arrest us. She needs us,” Dean pointed out. “Look, we’ll do this case, then we’ll get back to the bunker and get Charlie to erase the records. No harm, no foul.”
Sam shot Dean Bitchface Number Thirteen, but finally huffed “Fine.”
“Awesome. Now let’s see what sons-of-bitches make purple goo. Seriously, purple?” Dean trailed off as he strode into the shop.