Apocalyptic Love Songs 2


Do you live by the book, do you play by the rules
Do you care what is thought by others about you
If this day is all that is promised to you
Do you live for the future, the present, the past

—”Unsung Psalm”, Tracy Chapman

At the local police station, it only took flashing their badges and some sweet talk to get the police report and see the body. Joseph Temple had died of multiple gunshot wounds, one to the thigh, one to the throat.

“Though,” said the pathologist, “he’s seen some action. Do you see those scars?” He pointed to some fierce scars along Temple’s hip bone and another in his thigh. Dean winced as he looked — to him they looked like they’d been caused by a sharp, jagged blade, or something with nasty claws. “Whatever he did before he moved to Bethlehem, it was not safe work. That wound should have killed him, or at least taken his leg — it opened the femoral artery.”

“How long ago would you say he got that wound?” asked Sam.

“Twenty years, maybe? Maybe he was in the military. We can’t find any records on the guy before he moved here.”

“Joseph Temple might be an alias,” Sam observed, and the pathologist nodded.

“I think you’re right.”

“Does the name Lorcan mean anything to you?” Dean asked him. “One of the neighbors mentioned altercations between the deceased and a guy named Lorcan.”

“There’s a real estate developer in the city named Lorcan Murphy,” the pathologist said.

“A legitimate businessman, huh?” Dean said with a chuckle, and the pathologist raised an eyebrow at him.

“This is Pennsylvania, Agent Chilton, not New Jersey.”

“Subtle,” Sam murmured to him as they walked out of the station to where they’d parked the Impala. “Why not just let the detectives know we’ve got their murderer?”

“We don’t know that,” said Dean. “These were pros, in the dream.” He unlocked the car and they both climbed in, slamming the doors closed in tandem. “But it wouldn’t hurt to check him out, right?”

“Sure,” said Sam, and they were halfway to the motel when he burst out, “So what are we going to do, Dean? Break into this guy’s house, rummage around until we find something with an EMF signature, and make off with it?”

“I guess so.”

“And then what?” The pissed-off muscle was jumping in his jaw again. “Then we’ll have to hightail it out of the city, but where will we go?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said honestly. “I guess Castiel will tell me once we have whatever it is he wanted us to get.”

Sam looked out the window, tapping his fingers on the glass. “I don’t see why he couldn’t have gotten this thing himself.”

“He asked us, Sam.”

“He asks and you jump,” Sam muttered and Dean nearly slammed on the brakes as they came to an intersection.

“Yeah, I do,” he said sternly, “because it’s Cas and he’s never asked me to do anything I was incapable of doing. Okay?” The car behind them leaned on the horn and Dean stepped on the gas. “Whatever we’re getting, it’s important enough to kill for. That should tell you something right there.”

“Right.” Sam exhaled. “And it’s us in danger if we get caught, instead of someone powerful and immortal.”

“When have we ever gotten caught?” Dean said and swung into the motel parking lot. “We’ll be fine.” Sam started to respond and Dean repeated, “We’ll be fine, Sammy. We’ve got angels on our side.”

Sam got out of the car and slammed the door, and Dean followed him. “You know what, Dean? I don’t think for a second that they’re on our side. We’re just another pair of monkeys to them. They’ll toss us aside as soon as we’ve done what they want us to do, and they won’t help us if we get in trouble. And you  –” He poked Dean in the chest. “They’ll toss you back into Hell as soon as you stop being useful. And they’ll kill me. You know they will.”

“It’s not like that,” Dean said, “and unlock the damn door already. We’re not talking about this in front of everybody.”

Sam unlocked the door and threw off his jacket and tie as soon as he was inside. Dean followed, tugging his tie loose too. “Then what is it like, Dean? Do you really think they care? Do you think they’re going to come to our rescue if whoever killed Joseph Temple comes after us? You think we’re going to be protected by angels?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said. “I know we are. I told you, Sammy. Castiel wouldn’t ask us to do something we couldn’t do. Do you want pizza tonight or something else for dinner?”

“Pizza.” Sam pulled off his shirt and toed off his wingtips, and pulled out his jeans from their duffel bag. “We’ll eat pizza and then we’ll go steal something this guy had someone killed for. By professionals. Great plan, Dean.”

“Relax, would you? We’re on a mission from God,” he said in his best Blues Brothers imitation, and Sam snorted and tossed him a t-shirt.

“Change your clothes, God-boy. We’ve got a mission to figure out.”

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