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Tougher Than the Rest (6/15)

Title: Tougher Than the Rest
Chapter Title: Open All Night
Wordcount: 744 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 ever so!

One Two Three Four Five




After a dinner at a restaurant – one the Kellys paid for – they drove to the Essex and Sussex. It was too early, there were people sitting on the porch. Dean turned down one of the cross streets and went north a block before heading back to the ocean.

“Where are you going?”

“We’re on the Jersey shore, Sammy. There’s got to be a dive somewhere around to kill time.”

“If you head north, you’ll reach Asbury Park and going south, you’ll reach Point Pleasant Beach. Those are the towns that really cater to the tourists with arcades, bars and the like. The towns in-between will have varying degrees of amusements.”

Dean looked at Alan via the rearview mirror. “When did you start quoting Foder’s?”

“Since I used Sam’s iPad to research the area. Hope you don’t mind.”

“As long as you didn’t kill the battery.”

“Left it charging.”

“At least you know how to take care of someone else’s property.”

Dean ignored the dig from Sam and turned on the radio, blasting Born to Run.

***


About two hours later, they returned to the condos. Dean pulled his baby into the back parking lot. Sam had called Karen and Dean could see her silhouetted against the open back door. The four of them got out of the Impala and split the supplies between them. At the door, Karen gave Alan and Ryan a curious look but said nothing.

“Our associates, Lennon and McCartney,” Dean said.

“The Beatles’ surnames. Cute.” Karen led them through the corridors. “I know who you are now,” she said. “I watched some Ghostfacers this afternoon and in one episode, prominently displayed, was a photo of you two defaced with magic markers.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So from what I understand, the list is very short of whom they despise that strongly.” She stopped and looked at them. “You are the Winchesters.”

Dean felt the sudden need to strangle those idiotic douchebags.

“You guys really know your stuff,” Karen was saying. “I trust you now that I have a better idea of who you are.” She looked at Alan and Ryan. “Though I don’t know who you are.”

“Extra hands,” answered Sam. “Backup. Are we clear?”

“Yes, everyone’s upstairs.”

“Good. Now you can go home,” Dean said.

“I’m not leaving the building while all this is going on,” she argued.

“Do you have an office here?” She nodded. “Okay. Lock yourself in and line all the entries with salt.” Dean reached into his bag for a canister.

“No need. I bought some of my own this afternoon.”

Dean was impressed. “Don’t come out until we get you, no matter what you hear.”

“Okay. Good luck.” She headed back to the main area.

“A fan of Ghostfacers and she still takes all this seriously. That’s rare,” commented Alan.

“Yeah, those dumbasses would give Hunters a bad name – if people knew about us.”

“Thank God for small mercies,” Ryan remarked.

“Yeah, ‘cause he sure ain’t coming through on the big ones.”

Sam handed Alan his phone. “Set it on walkie-talkie.”

“We wait for your word, then torch it.”

Dean grinned. He liked a guy who showed enthusiasm for his work – as long as it didn’t get him killed. “Lay salt down and he shouldn’t be able to get in and stop you.”

“Right. We remember,” said Alan. “Go on.”

This kind of reminded Dean of having to depend on those two guys at that convention. At least these two knew the whole thing was real. “Okay, anything weird happens, you call.”

“Sir!” The twins saluted.

Dean shook his head before walking the corridor to Reception and the elevator.

“They’ll be fine.” Sam pressed the call button. “I’m more concerned about what excuse to use in case people see us entering the apartment.”

The doors slid open and they stepped inside. Dean pressed the button for the third floor. “We’re FBI, Sammy.”

“Yeah, FBI agents in civvies here at 11:00 with a large duffle bag. Something’s a little off.”

“Use that puppy-dog look of yours. Grannies can’t resist it. They may even try to pinch your cheeks.”

Dean reached forward to do just that, but Sam slapped his hand away. “Quit it.”

He sounded angry but he smiled. “C’mon, loosen up a little.”

“We gotta stay focused, Dean.”

“According to your plan, that’s the last thing you want.”

Sam only gave him the patented Bitch Face #3 as the doors slid open.

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