The Inevitable End || Supernatural & Harry Styles

Chapter 3

"I probably wouldn't have matched my shirt with that skirt," Dean joked. Chuckling, he looked around awkwardly when a laugh was never returned.

"Really, Dean?" Sam hissed. "She's dead."

Cops swarmed the place, paying no mind to the two brothers that stood in the middle of the crime scene. Large lights were placed around the perimeter of the body, illuminating the dark alleyway.

Dean's smile quickly fell as he stepped forward. His smile was replaced with a mask of seriousness. Clearing his throat, he stuffed his hands in his pocket. "So, what do you think?" He asked his brother, cocking his head as he inspected the body from a distance.

"I'm not sure," Sam said. He crouched down next to the body, trying to get a closer view. 

"No freaking way," Dean muttered, no longer paying attention to his brother. Because standing on the other side of the alley, conversing with a cop, was none other than Harry freaking Styles. Sam's eyes followed Dean as he marched around the body and towards the duo.

Pursing his lips, Dean stood in front of the cop and Harry. The conversation died down as they looked at him; Harry's facial expression was one of annoyance and dismay. "Yeah, we need to talk," Dean said, his voice straining.

Rolling his eyes, Harry looked back over at the cop. "Would you excuse us, please?" He asked him.

The cop gave a sharp nod of his head. "I'll contact you if we find anything else, Agent Styles," the cop said, before turning around and leaving.

"Agent Styles?" Dean scoffed. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah? What are you doing here, Mr. Policeman? Give me a break."

"Listen here, kid," Dean said harshly. He leaned closer to Harry as he tried to get his point across. There were two things in the world that Dean couldn't stand: demons and stupid people getting in his way. "This isn't a game. Whatever you're up to--" Dean began before Harry abruptly interrupted him.

"You have no idea what you're getting into." Harry's voice dropped; he turned from annoying douchebag to angry douchebag.

"What, and you do?" Dean just didn't get the guy. First, he's hanging out with the freaky cult people. Then, he apparently talks to ghost. Now, he's playing agent with his little police buddies?

Harry smiled and looked away. His finger rubbed at his lip before he said, "I think it's best if you leave."

"Me leave?" Harry had a lot of nerve, a lot. Because Dean wasn't about to follow his 'orders' or anybody else's. He came here to investigate and that's exactly what he planned on doing.

"Of course," Harry said easily. "This is my crime scene, after all."

"Your crime scene? You must be out of you damn--"

"Dean!" Sam's voice jumped out at him and Dean spun around to see his brother facing him, with an anxious expression on his face. "I think we should go."

"Oh, come on, Sam--"

"No, Dean. It's fine. Let's get out of here." There was something in Sam's expression that only Dean could pick up on. It was like Sam was silently urging him to listen to what he was saying. He needed Dean's cooperation, desperately.

"Yeah... fine." Dean shrugged, turning back around to face Harry. "It's a lame crime scene anyways. We got bigger fish to fry."

Sam grabbed a handful of the back of Dean's shirt and pulled him away. "Come on, Dean."

They passed the now staring cops, they passed the dead body, and they passed the caution tape. Walking quickly, they headed towards the Impala. "Can you believe that guy?" Dean asked.