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Tougher Than the Rest (1/15)

Title: Tougher Than the Rest
Chapter Title: My Lucky Day
Wordcount: 889 this chapter
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, OMC with appearances by Castiel and Crowley (in later chapters)
Warnings: None
Spoilers: It's set in the second half of season 6.
Disclaimer: If you recognize the character, it's not mine
Summary: Sam and Dean are checking out a mysterious death on the Jersey Shore. After a long day of research, all Dean wants to do is put up his feet and relax with the TV. The two men waiting in their motel room put an end to that.
A/N: This is a sequel two my first SPN fic In Spite of All the Danger The setting is the Jersey Shore, where I lived for 9 years (1978-1987). My sister coquillagement still lives there and helped me out in a few spots. The wonderful msninacat heard my plea for a beta and jumped right in. Thanks a bunch!

Dean tried to get comfortable in the white wicker chair. Even though it was approaching October, it was still warm enough to sit on a porch overlooking the Atlantic. He would have preferred to be looking over the Jersey beach during the height of summer when all the hot babes were enjoying the sun. But, no, they had to be here listening to a 70 year old woman tell them about how she found her husband bleeding to death in their third floor condo. The autopsy photos showed a row of deep but small holes that put Dean in mind of a shark bite.

He brought his attention back to the interview.

“So you didn’t see or hear anything suspicious in the days leading up to the incident?”

Dean watched as Sam spoke to the widow. It was almost as if nothing had happened. Well, for his brother, the last year was gone. Sam’s memories were buried behind a wall in his mind. He still wasn’t sure what Death wanted him to do. It had to be something major since he had retrieved Sam’s soul from Lucifer’s cage even though Dean had reneged on their deal. Yes, he had to watch what he said, but he would do whatever it took to keep this Sammy. Nobody could use those puppy-dog eyes like him.

“Isn’t that right, Agent Starkey?”

“Hmm? Sorry, just thinking of our next move.”

“I was just telling Mrs. Godwin that we’d get back to her after making a few phone calls and checking a few sources.”

“Yes, of course. We will get to the bottom of this for you, don’t worry.”

“Do you have someone..?”

“I’ll be staying with my sister for a few days.”

“That’s perfect,” Dean said. “It’s good that you can get away from here and be with someone,” he added at Sam’s glare.

“Here’s my number if you think of anything else.” Sam handed the Widow Godwin a piece of paper with his current cell number scribbled on it.

“Thank you, Agent Harrison. I appreciate you taking the extra time to discover what really happened to my husband.”

“We don’t like leaving things unanswered,” Dean said before heading down the front walk to the Impala.

Sam said goodbye one more time before following. The moment he shut the passenger side door he turned. “What’s wrong with you? You’re always the one who wants to hunt something down.”

“Under normal circumstances, yeah, but this is taking us away from the search for Eve and Purgatory.”

“And because of that, others should suffer?”


“’Hunting things, saving people, the family business,’ remember that? Who knows, we may learn something from this to help us with Eve.”

“Fine.” Dean knew Sam was right. They couldn’t let other creatures go ‘unattended’ if they had the ability to stop them. “We’ll check out the police and the library. I want to make this quick. Sea air is not good for my baby.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Sam’s smug face.


An ocean and 200 years away, Col. Alan Kelly locked the museum-quality display case that housed his personal collection. Going by the calendar, they would be considered antiques or artifacts. However, most of them weren’t more than a few years old. One of the perks of the job. His newest acquisition was a favorite. A personally autographed unpublished manuscript by Carver Edlund detailing the time he had met the Winchester brothers in the 21st century when trying to save his brother.

He looked over at that same brother sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, looking to all the world like the cat that swallowed the proverbial canary. He’d always been like that after winning an argument – or at least when he thought he had.

“You’re not going to admit you were wrong, are you?”

“No, because I’m not and you know it.”

“And how would I know that?”

“Because you’re standing here. If I hadn’t saved your arse, there’d be a national day of mourning.”

Alan knew that was true – not the day of mourning thing - but he didn’t want to give in. “Oh, like I haven’t saved your butt? I helped bring you back from Death’s door.”

“Fine, I’ll give you that one, but…” Ryan stopped and looked at a point over Alan’s shoulder.

Alan turned and saw a pale man with dark tousled hair, crooked tie, and a disheveled trench coat. “Castiel?”

“Alan Kelly.”

Ryan nearly tripped over his own feet as he got up and headed towards them. “Castiel? The Castiel?”

“Ryan Kelly, it is good to see you are well.”

“Wow, you know my name! This is amazing!” He pumped the angel’s hand.

Castiel removed his hand from Ryan’s grip. “You’re needed.” He raised his hands to their foreheads.

“Whoa!” Alan took a step back.

“Do you not want to help the Winchesters?” Castiel seemed confused at the refusal.

“Of course I want to help them but I want more information. You can’t just drop us into a situation without telling us what’s going on.”

“Especially when it comes to the Winchesters,” added Ryan. “One wrong word could change everything.”

“It has been taken care of.” Castiel reached out too quickly for the brothers to dodge.



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