SuperPsych

Chapter 1

Dean

"I don't know, Sam, I don't think this is our kind of thing." Dean glanced at Sam with an annoyed look on his face as the Impala rumbled down the highway. "Besides, we just finished up with that craptastic Supernatural musical last week. We haven't even been back to the bunker yet."

Sam sighed. "I seem to remember you insisting we take that case, even though there was nothing to suggest it was one. Besides, this one is a slam dunk. You heard it on the police radio just five minutes ago. And it's only fifteen minutes away. We'll check it out, see if there's really a case, and if not we'll be on our way."

Dean grumbled. After ganking Calliope, they had traveled to Monterey, California to visit a hunter friend. As they passed through Santa Barbara on their way back to the Men of Letters bunker, the case came over the radio. Dean just wanted to get back to his bed in the bunker and relax for a day before finding another case.

But he also knew that if he showed any hesitation, Sam would think something was up. He'd think it was the Mark of Cain, or that Dean wasn't fully recovered from his stint as a demon, but he was. He didn't want Sam benching him. He didn't need to be benched. He needed things to go back to normal.

If that meant taking a case even when Dean just wanted to keep driving, so be it.

"Fine." Dean relented. "Talk to me."

"Two witnesses." Sam opened his notebook where he'd written everything down as it came over the radio. "They were at the restaurant late. Tarpy's Roadhouse. Apparently they're detectives, and they had helped out the manager, so he stayed open late for them. There was only one chef in the back, and all the waiters had left. They sat down, the manager went into the kitchen. Then, according to the witnesses, the lights started flickering and the room got cold. Like, ghost-cold."

"Okay, ghost. That seems pretty obvious." Dean nodded, but then something Sam had said gave him pause. "Wait, 'according to the witnesses?' They survived?"

Sam nodded, grinning. "I don't know how yet, but everyone that was there is still alive. The restaurant's torn up a bit, and the two witnesses are banged up, but no fatalities."

Dean started to speak, but Sam stopped him, opening his computer. "That's not even the weirdest part. Remember how I said they're detectives? So get this. According to their website, they're psychic detectives. They own a private investigative service called 'Psych.'"

Dean raised his eyebrows. Psychics? Like Missouri and Pamela? "Are you saying these guys are hunters? That's why they're alive?" Dean wondered.

Sam shrugged. "I don't see how else they could have survived. They must have found some salt or iron to protect themselves. I mean, they're psychics. They've got to know about all the things that go bump in the night."

Dean nodded. "All right. I'm officially interested. Let's go pay a visit to these guys. They're still at Tarpy's?"

"Yeah."

Dean revved the engine, shaking his head and chuckling. It seemed this would be an interesting case after all.

~

"So," Sam said after a few more minutes of silence. "Are we going to talk about it?"

Dean looked at Sam in the corner of his eye, furrowing his brow. "Talk about what?"

"That Supernatural musical." Sam clarified.

Dean scoffed, "I don't ever want to talk about that again." He affirmed, but his gaze fixed on the rear-view mirror where he'd hung the fake "Samulet" Marie had given him.

"Okay, neither do I, really, but there is one thing we need to talk about." Sam insisted.

"What?" Dean demanded. "It was a load of crap thought up by a couple teenagers."

"Dean." Sam said. Dean looked at him. "I'm talking about Adam."

Dean's annoyance was instantly replaced with guilt. "Oh. That."

"Yeah, that." Sam turned to look at Dean better, with a sharp edge to his voice. "He's still in the cage. He's been in there for years. He doesn't deserve that. He was never part of this fight. He was our responsibility."

"I seem to recall it didn't end well when we got back your soul from Lucifer's cage after only one year. Adam's been down there for almost five years. It ain't gonna be pretty. And Cas won't go through that again." Dean reminded Sam.

"I know that," Sam said. "That doesn't mean that Adam deserves to be tortured for eternity. We should at least try to end his suffering."

"Fine," Dean agreed. "But how? We can't ask Cas to go back to the cage. Especially not with his borrowed grace."

"I don't know," Sam sighed. "I'll look around when we get back to the bunker."

"Whatever," Dean said, absently scratching the Mark of Cain on his arm.

Sam noticed. "Is it bothering you?" He asked quietly.

Dean sighed, "I'm not going demon again, if that's what you're asking."

"I know that, but still. It wasn't easy for you before you died. You had trouble controlling the Mark of Cain."

"I'm fine, Sammy." Dean growled.

"Dean—"

"I said I'm fine, Sam." Dean insisted. "Drop it. We're here. Who are these psychics again?"

Sam took a deep breath like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. Dean was relieved. Sam glanced at his notebook. "Shawn Spencer and . . . Bruton Gaster?"

Dean laughed. "I like the sound of these guys already."