something in the orange, spn [ 2 ]

061. dog dean

Sam and Larissa are sitting at the map table and Athena is on Larissa's lap.

"Wow." Dean says.

"What?" Sam asks.

"Kevin. Just poured some buffalo milk down his gob twice." Dean says.

"Buffalo milk?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, the hangover cure all. It's got everything in it. Except buffalo milk." Dean says.

"How is that kid still recovering from Branson?" Sam asks.

"What can I say? He's an amateur. The slippery nipple shots at the Dolly Parton Dixie Stampede nearly killed the guy." Dean says.

"All right. Well, uh, I got something that's gonna get us back on the road." Sam says.

"A case?" Dean asks, sitting next to his brother.

"Yeah."

"You sure you're ready for that?"

"Why would I not be ready for that?"

"Aren't you kind of running on empty?"

"Yeah, but the last three nights straight, I had eight hours of shut eye. For a hunter, that's like 20. And 40 for a parent of a baby. Lissy can testify on my behalf."

"I-- technically, I can't. I was sleeping." Larissa says.

"Trust me, Dean. I feel good." Sam promises.

"Well, that's great and all, James Brown, but you're still recovering from the trials. I think you ought to pace yourself, you know? And the sooner you heal..." He trails off.

"Yeah?" Sam prompts. Larissa looks down at the table, the familiar tightening of her chest and twisting of her gut returning.

"I just want you back to your old self." Dean says.

"I am, Dean. Look, Kevin's back on the Heaven spell. Crowley's locked up. We should be out there doing what we do best."

"Yeah."

"You want to listen, at least? Okay, great." Sam doesn't wait for an answer. "Taxidermist named Max Alexander mysteriously crushed to death. Nearly every joint in his body dislocated, every bone broken. Poor guy is a human pretzel. You tell me what's got that kind of strength."

"A demonic luchador?"

"Shop's a couple hours away to Enid, Oklahoma. We should at least check it out. Unless there's some reason you think we shouldn't." Sam says. Dean glances at Larissa who gives raises her eyebrows in question.

+++

"Okay, uh, that... symbol in the graffiti, it's not wiccan. It's copywritten. Local animal rights group, Enid's answer to PETA." Sam says while sitting at the table on his laptop.

"S.N.A.R.T.? You got to be kidding me." Dean says.

"Well, it makes sense that an animal rights group would have an axe to grind with a taxidermist." Sam says.

"Why? The animal's already dead." Dean says.

"Yeah, but hunters are what keep them in business. Now the question is, are those bleeding hearts actually witches or just hippies?" Sam asks.

"What's the difference?"

+++

"Necrosis?" Dean asks.

"Premature death of tissues -- that's why their eyes were all messed up." Sam says. He's holding Athena who is asleep, her head resting against his chest. "And it's not caused by mace."