Superstitions {Dean Winchester 2}

Chapter 23

Crossroad Blues

I jab my elbow into Dean's ribcage, smiling when he let out a low grunt. "Not stop stealing." 

"What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine." He quipped, arm still resting above my shoulders.

"That, my friend, does not apply to my French fries." 

"So much for a our low profile." Sam says as he stared at his computer screen across the diner booth. "You got a warrant in St. Louis. And now you're officially in the Feds' database." 

"Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something." Dean says, smiling.

I shook my head.

"Dean, it's not funny." Sam says. "Makes the job harder, we gotta be careful."

"What do they got on you?" Dean asked. "Or Saige."

"I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet." Sam mumbled. 

"Wait, I'm clean?" I asked. "Yes."

"Wait, no accessory? Nothing?" Dean asked.

"Shut up." Sam muttered. 

Dean laughed. "You're jealous."

"No, I'm not." 

"Uh-huh." Dean snatched another fry from my plate. I elbow him again. "Alright, what do you got on the case there, you innocent, harmless young man, you?"

Sam gave him a look, shutting the laptop. He grabbed a stack of papers from beside him. "'Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed.'"

"Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. Classy." Dean remarked. 

"Dean." I say.

"What? So when did he call Animal Control?"

"Two days earlier." Sam replied. 

"Did he actually say black dog?"

"Yeah. 'Vicious, wild black dog.' The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it. In fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and roam the halls of the cushiest join in town." Sam explained. "After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work. Two days later he takes a swan dive."

"You think we're dealing with an actual black dog?" Dean asked.

"Well, maybe." 

I faintly hear the bell above the door ring. "Well, that's super helpful, Sammy."

"What's the lore on it?" Dean asked.

"It's vague." Sam answered, shooting me a look as he handed Dean the papers. "There are spectral black dogs all over the world. Some say they're animal spirits, others, death omens." 

Dean flipped through the many different articles Sam had printed all drawings or paintings of large, mangy looking black dogs.

"But anyways, whatever they are, they're big, nasty--" Sam continued. 

"Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap out of your leg. Look at that one." Dean flipped a paper around for Sam to see. He chuckled as Sam rolled his eyes.

"Dean." I complain. 

"What? They could." 

I shook my head. 

"Who could what?" 

I jump at the sound of Millie's voice. 

"Millie, what are you--?" I asked.