² Deception - Dean Winchester

Six

Dean had a giant grin on his face as he raced down the road, eager to be back behind the wheel of his Impala. Jenny had a soft smile on her face as the window was rolled down, letting her hair fall all against the string wind.

"Whoo! Listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?" Jenny held her smile and looked over to Dean with a raised brow.

"You already replacing me with your car?" She joked, and Dean chuckled.

"You know, if you two wanna get a room, just let me know, Dean." Sam chimed in.

"Oh, don't listen to them, baby. They doesn't understand us." Dean pat the dashboard, still grinning. Jenny shook her head in amusement, turning back to the window.

Sam laughed softly, looking to his brother from the back seat. "You're in a good mood."

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"No reason." Sam shook his head, shrugging.

"Got my car, got a case, things are looking up." Dean smiled as he turned to Jenny, who was still looking out the window.

"Wow. Give you a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're Mister Sunshine."

Dean laughed, shaking his head. "How far to Red Lodge?"

"Uh, about another three hundred miles." Sam answered, looking down at his map. Dean nodded, stepping on the gas a little harder.

...

"The murder investigation is ongoing, and that's all I can share with the press at this time." The sheriff with a fairly impressive mustache told the hunting trio, who were dressed up as news reporters. Jenny pretended to scribble something down in her journal, nodding.

"Sure, sure, we understand that, but just for the record, you found the first, uh, head last week, correct?" Sam tilted his head as the sheriff nodded, humming in response. "Okay, and the other, a uh, Christina Flanigan."

"That was two days ago. Is there—" The sheriff cut himself short as a woman knocked on his door, pointing to her watch. "Oh. Sorry, time's up, we're done here."

"One last question—"

"Yeah, what about the cattle?" Jenny interrupted Sam, looking up from her doodle. The sheriff frowned, putting his hands to his hips.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, you know. The dozen cases of cattle being ripped open. Torn to shreds, blood drained and guts—"

"What about them?" The sheriff interjected, looking a little uneasy towards Jenny.

"So you don't think there's a connection?" Sam raised his brows as the sheriff shook his head.

"Connection... with...?"

"First cattle mutilations, now two murders? Kinda sounds like ritual stuff." Sam shrugged.

"You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff?" The sheriff laughed at Dean, who gave him a serious look.

"You— you're not kidding." The three shook their heads slowly. "Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know?"

"How?"

"Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation. Cow drops, leave it in the sun, within forty eight hours the bloat'll split it open so clean it's just about surgical. The bodily fluids fall down into the ground and get soaked up because that's what gravity does. But, hey, it could be Satan. What newspaper did you say you work for?"