Part of the Family Business (A Supernatural Fanfic)

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning, I have a hangover. It's not that serious, but Sam still suggests I stay near a bathroom and offers to get me some greasy foods. However, I decline and stick to drinking a lot of coffee and downing Aspirins.

"Coffee won't help," Sam mentions, rubbing a towel quickly through his wet hair.

"Yeah it will," I say defensively, pulling my knees up closer to my chest. "Why would I drink it if it wouldn't?"

Sam just shrugs and opens his laptop on the kitchen table. "Anyways," he says, pushing his sleeves up above his elbow. "I managed to find a case in Florida."

"Florida?" Dean's rough voice says from beside me. He presses a button on the remote to turn the television off.

"Yeah," Sam says awkwardly, glancing around a bit. Then he clears his throat and turns from Dean to his laptop screen. "The article's titled 'Death By Chocolate'. A family was found around their dining table, all of their faces planted in the chocolate cake they were eating. There aren't any traces of poison."

"Chrys," Dean starts, getting up from the bed, "you got another crazy hunch about them hiding something? Because I sure do." He picks up a Chinese take out menu from the counter. "Anybody want Chinese?"

"For breakfast? No," Sam says quickly. I snort from laughter. Dean shoots me a playful glare before pulling out his cell phone.

As he waits for someone to pick up, he starts talking. "Do you really think this is something of our nature, Sam?"

"It could be a witch," I point out, setting my empty coffee mug on the bedside table.

"Yeah, or a vengeful cake spirit," Dean jokes with a smirk. "Oh, hi, I'd like to place an order," he says suddenly, turning to step out the door.

Sam chuckles a bit before turning to me with a grin. "So, you up for it?"

"Why not?" I say with a shrug, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

---+---+---

As soon as we reach the area of Florida - in Tallahassee - Dean's asking about food.

"What's wrong with having a big appetite?" he asks defensively. I roll my eyes, and Sam just smiles.

On the way to find a decent looking restaurant, we slow down a bit as we pass a crime scene. The houses on this road all look the same, except for the one the police are parked outside of. It tilts slightly to the side, and it's not the consistent white - it's a navy blue color, the shutters a chipped and faded red. The porch seems to sag from the weight of police officers walking back and forth across it. Dean pulls the Impala over behind a cop car. We get out.

Sam and Dean flash their badges, Dean gesturing toward me briefly.

"She's with us," he says quickly, walking still. I seem to have difficulty keeping up with their long strides, even though I'm the same height as Dean. It's just very distracting here - the hot Florida weather, the men and women running around, the crowd slowly forming off to one side, and the nausea in my stomach.

"You okay, princess?" Dean asks me quietly as we walk up the porch steps. The two show off their badges again, and I keep close behind them.

"Yeah," I say simply. The horrible feeling I might puke any minute keeps me from talking too much. Something must have been up with that wine. Or maybe I drank my coffee too fast.

Sam mutters something about checking upstairs, and Dean wanders off into a wide room filled with photographers and people in rubber gloves, who I suspect are in forensics.

"What's this?" Dean asks, gesturing to the 3 bodies on the ground. Each one seems to have been impaled, but there isn't a weapon - just the entry wounds and lots of blood.

"The victims were impaled by what seems to have been a javelin," a tall, rugged man with a beard says as he walks over to the two of us. "But, the weird thing is, there weren't any exit wounds - just a hole where what we assumed to be a javelin entered, through the heart, but nothing out the back." He glances between us shrugging and shaking his head. "Nobody's ever seen anything like it. They're almost done taking pictures; then someone will come to take them down to the coroner's."

Dean and I exchange a glance. The man walks away, and I hear footsteps behind me. As I turn, I get a little dizzy and stumble.

"Woah," Sam says, reaching out to hold me steady, "are you alright?"

"Yeah," I say, trying to focus on one of the three Sams in front of me. "Yeah," I repeat before I feel a sharp pain in my stomach. Quickly, I run past the bodies out a back door. I throw up over the railing of the back deck. It's a very nice deck.

Dean follows behind me.

"Sorry," I say hoarsely, wiping the corners of my mouth with my fingers. "The smell of blood..." I trail off. The smell never bothered me before. Why now?

"Don't worry," Dean says, putting a hand on both of my shoulders to lead me out. "We'll hit a drive-thru on the way to a motel."

"I'm not hungry," I say with a frown.

"But I am," he says, leading me out to the car.