˗ˏˋCHAPTER 28´ˎ˗ SIT WITH ME IN THE PALE MOONLIGHT
⤷This chapter takes place on the episode Providence! I skipped an episode just because I didn't have much motivation. I wrote half the chapter, and It just wasn't good, so I decided to skip that episode. Anyway, sorry for the delay in the chapter, but I hope you enjoy!!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
─── ୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 “YOU SUCK AT THIS” DEAN'S SMILE FLASHED HER WAY. His green eyes were solely focused on her, and the pry of his lips never faltered as he gazed at her.
Evangeline gave the man an eye roll “Your cheating” she scowled before taking a swig of her beer.
“I'm cheating”? He seemed baffled at the accusation, putting a hand to his heart in faux offense “wow there, bold accusations, I never took you for a sore loser” he teased the woman in front of him.
“Fine" she stuffed her hand in her pocket, pulling out another twenty before slamming it on the table “again”.
He smiled once more “Alright sweetheart as you wish” he picked up the cards from the table, shuffling them before setting down a new deck.
Sam glanced up from his computer “you two are still going at it” he questioned softly.
“I'm not stopping until I win,” Evangeline shrugged.
Sam smiled, scoffing lightly before his eyes glanced at his brother. The hunter smiled, staring down at Evangeline teasing her for losing. The huntress continued to scowl playfully. Sam smiled at the sight.
He had never seen Dean quite as happy as he did when he was with her. There were about ten pretty girls his brother would usually be flirting with right now, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her.
Sam found it sweet. Who would have thought his older brother whipped on a girl.
“I think I found something,” Sam muttered.
“Let's hear it then, college boy” Dean chimed, eyes still on his cards.
“Well Mark and Anne Telesca of New Paltz, New York, we're both found dead in their home just a few days ago”.
Evangeline placed down a card, furrowing her brows at Sam's words.
“Throats were slit, there were no prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows were locked from the inside”.
“Could just be a garden-variety murder, y'know not our department” Dean took a drink of his beer.
“No, Dad says differently”.
“What do you mean?”.
Sam pushed the tattered leather journal toward the two, who both took their eyes off their cards for a moment to inspect the ink.
