When fate leads Arabella to the Winchesters, there's one thing she can't let herself do: fall in love.
"And when she needs to shelter from reality, she takes a dip in my daydreams." - Arctic Monkeys
Cover by @reviliooscarr
The rights to supernatura...
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Arabella, Sam, and Dean sit at a table. Sam has his laptop open, displaying a mugshot of Dean from the St. Louis Police Department.
Sam sighs. "Our low profile is shot. You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database."
"Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something," Dean grins. Arabella rolls her eyes at him.
Sam shakes his head. "Dean, it's not funny. This makes our job harder; we've got to be more careful now."
"Well, what do they have on you?" Dean asks.
"I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet," Sam mutters.
"And what about you?" Dean turns to Arabella.
Arabella chuckles. "Oh, they have a lot on me. Too much to count."
Dean smirks. "Atta girl."
Dean glances back at Sam. "No accessory? Nothing?"
"Shut up," Sam grumbles.
Dean chuckles. "You're jealous."
Sam scoffs. "No, I'm not!"
"Uh-huh. All right. What do you have on the case there, you innocent, harmless young man, you?" Dean teases. Arabella joins in the laughter.
Sam closes his laptop, annoyed, and pulls out several pages of research.
"Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home—a condominium he designed," He states.
Dean nods. "Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?"
"Two days earlier," Sam says.
"Did he actually say 'Black Dog'?" Dean asks.
Sam nods. "Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it; no one else saw it. In fact, they're a little confused about how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up, and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, and two days later, he takes a swan dive."
"Do you think we're dealing with an actual black dog?" Dean questions.
Sam shrugs. "Well, maybe."
Dean furrows his brows. "What's the lore on it?"
Sam passes Dean the research. "It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but... some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. Anyway, whatever they are, they're big, nasty—"
Dean interrupts. "Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg. Look at that one, huh?" He holds up a picture and smirks; Sam glares; Dean's smirk slips. "What? They could."
