Bonds Broken ~Dean Winchester Love Story~

Bloodlust -- Gordon Walker

~*****~

Back in Black blasted from the speakers of the Impala as it sped down a long highway. Dean and I had finally got her back up to par after a couple of weeks of nonstop working, and sex. She was shiny, and looked like she was brand new. When I heard the engine purr when we started her up, I just about died. That lovely sound brought a grin to my face. And to Dean's as well. He was in a good mood. A really good mood.

"Listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?" Dean asked loudly with that goofy grin spread over his lips. The windows were down, and I took the opportunity to let my semi long hair billow through the wind as I sat in the passenger seat.

"You know, baby, if you two need a room, just let Sammy and I know." I teased.

"Oh, don't listen to her, baby. She just doesn't understand us." Dean cooed as he stroked at the dash. I started to laugh and cast my gaze towards him.

"She's a home wrecker." I comment with a grin. "You're in a good mood."

"Why shouldn't I be?" Dean questioned.

I just shrugged as Sam leaned over the front seat. "No reason." Sam answered.

"Got my car, got my girl, got a case - things are lookin' up!" Dean listed happily.

"Wow, give you a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're all Sammy Sunshine." I joked.

"How far's Red Lodge?" Dean asked as he reached over and grasped my hand.

"About another three hundred more miles." I retort as I gaze down at my map.

"Good." Dean said with a mischievous smirk on his lips. He pushed on the gas, and the Impala sped up. I let out a girlish squeal of excitement as we easily broke passed the speed limit.

~*****~

Once we got to the Red Lodge, we decided to head down to the police station. The sheriff sat opposite of us at the desk as we posed as reporters from a news station. I stood behind Sam and Dean, and held my camera to my chest. "The murder investigation is ongoing, and that's all I can share with the press at this time." The sheriff informed us, his mustache moving a bit as he spoke.

"Sure, we understand that, but just for the record, you found the first, uh, head last week, correct?" Sam questioned as he held his notepad and pen up like a real nosey reporter.

"Mm-hmm." The sheriff nodded.

"Okay, and the other, a uh, Christina Flanigan," Dean started, and kept jotting down a crude depiction of the sheriff with a large, twilly mustache coming out of his nostrils.

"That was two days ago," The sheriff said, immediately taking over the conversation. "Is there --" He was cut off as a young woman knocked on the door, and pointed to her watch. "Oh, sorry, guys. Times up. We're done here."

"One last question --" Sam rushed out as he and Dean shot out of their seats.

"Yeah, what about the cattle?" Dean asked.

"Excuse me?" The sheriff asked as he paused and sat back down.

"You know, the cows found dead, split open, drained.... over a dozen cases." Dean explained.

"So you don't think there's a connection?" Sam inquired.

"Connection... with?" The sheriff dragged out, and motioned for us to elaborate.

"First cattle mutilations, now two murders? Kinda sounds like ritualistic stuff." I stated firmly.

"You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff?" Dean pressed. The sheriff looked between the three of us before busting out laughing.