Nothing for days but long stretches of highway, the sun beating off the blacktop for miles on end as the harsh November air got slowly warmer. Small towns, dusty motels and backwater diners blurred together as quickly as usual, and they never stuck around in a town for more than a day. Paranormal activity was nothing new but there was nothing that spoke of a seal, nothing that seemed out of the ordinary even by host-from-hell standards.
Ed did all of the driving, he wouldn't let Al behind the wheel for anything. Al kept up with research, kept in constant contact with Bobby for more information, more leads. Nothing substantial at all; it was like anything in their path was being cleared for them.
They ran across a hunter as they crossed the state line into Texas, didn't exchange names or pleasantries but helped clear out a couple of werewolves that were plaguing the town. They parted ways quickly and continued onward.
The next town they stopped in for coffee and gas, and while Al was leaning against the Impala and watching the meter, Ed made a pit stop. A bag of chips in hand, he paused in front of the newspaper rack, and then picked up a local copy, tossing it with the bottles of water and chips to pay for.
"Check this out," Ed said, tossing a water bottle to Al and flattening the newspaper on the roof of the Impala. Al opened his bottle and quirked an eyebrow as Ed jabbed at the paper. "Fifth victim dies of asphyxiation in a week." Sam leaned over to look at where Ed was pointing. "All normal, otherwise healthy adult men suddenly asphyxiate in their sleep? I don't think so."
Al nodded. "Doesn't sound like anything I've heard of before. Let's head into town and see what we can find."
Motels, so many motels. Ed groaned as he jammed the keycard into the lock. This one didn't even make do with proper keys, it had decided to join the 20th century and use those accursed keycards. The lock blinked at him mockingly, a little red dot.
"Problems?" Al sounded amused.
"I can handle it," Ed growled, jamming the card in the slot again. The light still blinked red. He started slamming the key in and out quickly and Al sighed, shuffling his armload of their gear and forcing it into Ed's arms so he could take the key before Ed broke it in the lock.
Al opened it on the first try.
"I don't wanna hear it," Ed announced as Al smirked at him, holding the door open illustratively. "Fuckin' keys," he snarled, dropping the gear on the first bed and looking around.
For once the motel was rather - plain. For being in Texas, Ed had seen many, many kitschy cowboy-themed cheapass motels. This one at least looked passable, if plain. Al put down the keycard and his own duffel on the dresser. "Where do we want to hit first?" Al asked, flipping on the light and disappearing into the bathroom.
Ed shrugged, poking around the far edge of the room. Small table with chairs, old but not ancient TV, all in all this motel was a slightly higher class than they were used to staying at. Thank god they paid in cash this time, they didn't have to worry about being evicted after the credit card got flagged. "The morgue's always a hot spot," he called, sitting on the edge of the bed without the gear on it.
Remote in hand, he started flipping through the local cable channels. Nothing interesting or remotely good on, so he shut off the set and waited for Al to get out of the bathroom.
"FBI?" Al asked, shutting the light off as he exited.
"Five deaths in one week, I would say so," Ed said. "Unless you can think of something better."
The town was small, but the coroner was a lot more thorough with inspecting the ID that Ed and Al usually flipped so casually. Ed didn't sweat near as much as Al did, he was confident in his work, and also confident he could lay the man out if he did decide they were fake and decided to raise the alarm.
"You've had deaths like this in the past," Al said as the coroner gave up and lead them to the icebox. "A few years ago."
"Yes, but it only happened twice." The coroner shook his head. "The first victim was a friend - graduated with him, everyone thought his wife had killed him until the second death." He shrugged. "The second victim lived alone and there was no sign of forced entry, so both cases were ruled accidental deaths and brushed under the rug."
He pulled open the drawer that held the latest victim, and Ed wrinkled his nose. This was always the least pleasant part, by a long shot. He'd gotten used to corpses in all states of decompose - you had to, in this line of work - but that didn't mean he liked dealing with dead bodies. "Cause of death was blunt force trauma?" Ed asked. The body for once wasn't entirely maimed, but there was significant bruising on the upper torso, running down the sides of the body.
"On all our victims, yes." The coroner nodded, pointing out the bruising. "It's consistent with being crushed, although when found all the victims were in their own beds. Two died next to their wives."
Al leaned over the drawer and frowned, then moved and walked around so that he was behind Ed. "The pattern of the bruising," he murmured, shifting his position again.
"It's very peculiar," the coroner agreed. "All the victims exhibited the same patterns."
"Any way we can get a look at the other victims?" Ed asked.
The coroner shook his head. "Sorry, they've all been claimed by family at this point - there's nothing that points to foul play that can be investigated so the bodies were released by the time this one was brought in." He tapped the pencil he was carrying against the drawer. "No, wait. The Daniel's kid - poor kid, he just graduated high school this past spring - they haven't claimed his body yet, the family was out of town on a winter cruise and haven't gotten back yet."
"Can we see it? Every little bit of information helps," Al added at the coroner's dubious look.
"Sure thing, Agent Davis." He closed the drawer with the latest victim in it and led them further down the row, peering over the handwritten labels and finally stopping at the drawer nearest the door.
As he put his hand on the drawer to pull it out, an intern leaned in the icebox. "Doc! Your wife is on line two, pick up before she decides to come down here herself again!"
The coroner swore quietly to himself. "Uh, if you'll excuse me, Agent Davis, Agent Martin." Ed and Al watched him hurry over to the door, then looked at each other. Without a word Ed pulled the drawer open.
The bruising was the same on this cadaver as well; purpling dark against the flesh. "It looks like someone was seated astride his chest," Al said quietly, pointing out the contusions. "But for the amount of pressure to kill - the ribs would need to be crushed, but while they're bruised none of them are broken."
"Well, they suffocated, didn't they?" Ed said. "Enough pressure should keep them from inflating their lungs, and it only takes a few minutes before they'd pass out." He frowned. "But to cause this bruising..."
"I think it's time we did a little bit of research on the victims," Al said. "See what we can dig up. You get a list of the next of kin, I'll call Bobby and see what he can find on, well..."
"Chest crushers?" Ed supplied helpfully.
Al shot him a withering look and Ed shrugged, heading for the door.
Once Ed had left the room behind, Al closed the drawer that held the Daniel's kid and looked around the room. He opened the drawer that held the latest victim's body, pulling it just far enough out to look at the upper torso. The bruises were consistent with someone - or something - seated on the victim's chest, so why had no one even made mention of it? Al closed the drawer and left the icebox.
He tossed a wave off to the coroner, who didn't look like he even noticed, huddled over a phone at the end of the hallway and arguing passionately into it. When Al exited the back room, he was presented with Ed flirting with the receptionist. She was giggling and glanced up at Al with a blush tinting her cheeks. "Duty calls," Ed said dramatically, winking at her.
Al rolled his eyes once they were outside the building. "Do you ever stop?"
"Got the list," Ed said, holding a piece of paper between his fingers. "You get another look at them?"
"Yeah," Al shook his head. He pulled out his cell phone, and this time Ed snorted. "I thought you were gonna call Bobby before."
"No cell reception in there," Al said as Ed walked around the Impala, leaning against the side of the car and folding his arms across the roof. Al huffed at him, about to point out how dirty the car was and that they'd just gotten their suits cleaned when Bobby's voicemail picked up the line. Al left him a succinct voicemail about the information they had, and looked at Ed across the roof of the car.
"Library or families?"
"Library," Al said, pointing at Ed. "You get to clean your suit this time. I'm sick of it."
Ed leaned back from the car, looking down the front of his suit with a mix of surprise and horror. "Goddamn it," he seethed, trying vainly to wipe off some of the muck he'd just rubbed in to his clean dress shirt. Then the realization set in and he took a step back from the car, a look of horror on his face.
Al rubbed his forehead. "Clean the suit first, then the car," he said. "Let's head back to the motel, you can drop me off at the library after we get changed."
Ed was easier to wrangle out of washing the car than Al had thought, but it was because he was thinking. Always a dangerous thing, Al watched him think the entire car ride back. It wasn't stewing, or even brooding - Al knew the traces either left on his brother's face and this was neither. This was worrying.
They got back with no difficulties, and Ed even let Al open the room door without a fuss. Al watched Ed walk into the room, and as he closed the door he was about to ask what, precisely, Ed was up to when to his surprise Ed gently clapped his hands together and crossed them over the front of his jacket.
It looked almost like a scattering of blue electricity as the muck separated from the suit and dropped to the floor around his feet. Al was stuck with his mouth open, question lost on his lips.
"Huh," Ed said mildly. "It DID work. Wasn't expecting it to." He stepped out of the circle of muck and kicked his shoes off as if it was the most casual thing in the world.
Al blinked, shut his mouth and said (rather calmly, he thought) "Ed, what the HELL?"
Ed shrugged. "I... had this thought that it would be easy to do and honestly it felt like something I'd done before so I wanted to see if I could - what?"
"For one," Al said. "You did it again, even after Castiel said not to." He pointed at Ed angrily. "After I got, stood here and got LECTURED about doing something similar and told that they'd end me you go around and ignore their direct orders!"
Ed paused in loosening his tie. "I don't follow their orders," he said heatedly. "You were the one who said it wasn't magic in the first place, so they can damn well take it and shove it up their asses for all I care. This isn't something that comes from the demons."
"And now you're the expert on it?" Al crossed half the room in an easy stride, looming slightly over his older brother.
"What if I was?" The fire was lit in Ed's eyes. "I know more about it than you, and you don't like that, do you?"
"This isn't-" Al gritted his teeth. "The angel told you /not/ to."
"And I care about that why?" Ed threw his arms out. "If they want to smite me they can go ahead and do it. What's the worse they can do to me, throw me back in hell?"
"Ed," Al's voice was pained. "You also - you did it without a symbol, Ed, that can't be good-"
Ed blinked, halfway through a retort in his head and realized what Al had said. He lowered his arms and looked at his hands. "Huh," he said. "I guess I did, didn't I?"
Al stared at Ed and Ed stared at his hands. Al's cellphone went off and he exhaled as Ed met his eyes measuringly. After a second Al fished his cellphone out and after a glance at the ID he turned from Ed. "Hey, Bobby,"
He walked to the other side of the room, and out the door. Ed knew he'd become a topic of discussion once the door was closed and closed his eyes, tugging the tie out of its knot.
When he opened his eyes, he expected to no longer be alone, but the angel did not appear to chastise him or guide in any way. Ed's stomach clenched as he mocked himself. At what point did he start relying on the angel over his own gut? Instead of kicking his clothes off he hung them quietly, waiting for Al to return.
He hadn't even thought about it, the strange power ... alchemy ... was coming to him so easily and it seemed so right, so natural to use it. But what was the cost? Was he darkside-ing, and not Al? Ed dropped in to one of the uncomfortable chairs and waited on Al's return.
Al sat in the library, information about all seven victims - the five from the past week and the two from a few years ago - scattered about him. All the victims were men, over the age of eighteen but under the age of forty. They were all local, so that meant there wasn't just one connection, there were half a dozen if not more. Al sighed, leaning back in his chair. Usually it was hard to find the constant thread between victims, but here? Two or three were buddies, one was a nephew of another victim ... there were just so many angles to be investigated in this town.
Ed and Al had parted on sour terms in the motel room, Ed to go talk to a few of the families and Al to the library to see what leads he could piece together. Ed hadn't spoken a word to him outside of questioning what Bobby had to say - which was a big fat zilch, but Bobby was if anything the master of digging up obscure information. He'd get back to them, Al was sure.
Until then, the legwork. They needed to figure out what was killing these men before another victim turned up.
Al groaned, rubbing his face. He'd been staring at newspapers for hours - flipping through the actual hard copies. The next task would be hitting up the microfiche machine to see if there were any other deaths further back, or if the one a few years back was the oldest they had on file.
He glanced to the side and was surprised to see Ed navigating his way toward Al while chatting up one of the librarians who looked like jailbait. "-horrible, absolutely horrible," Ed was saying by the time they got into earshot.
"He was always so nice, too," she was saying as she led Ed past the table Al was working at. Ed made eye contact with Al for a brief moment, then nodded at the librarian's story. "He would watch the Mohr's house while they were away - they're my uncle's next-door-neighbors, that's why I knew him. He was a year or so behind me in school-"
Al's ears pricked up. Ed's appearance at the library wasn't just coincidence, it seemed the younger librarian actually knew one of the victims. Al glanced down at his newspapers and the interrelating charts of people he'd been sketching out. Mohr, that name rung a bell. He flipped to the information about the first victim, his name had been Hinks, but his wife hadn't taken his name at marriage. Her last name, though...
Ed was surfing the cable set when Al returned. He was back to his usual casual outfit and was laying on the bed with the remains of his lunch. Al paused in the doorway and rolled his eyes heavenward in a silent plea. "What'd you find out?" Ed asked without looking up.
Al turned the TV off as he passed, fortunately Ed didn't feel like being particularly persnickety and didn't use the remote to turn it on again. "Mohr," Al said.
"Okay, good, what else?" Ed said sarcastically.
"No, Mohr, like the wife of the first victim Eric Hinks," Al said, dropping his laptop and notebook on the table and folding into one of the uncomfortable chairs.
Ed snapped, pointing at Al. "That name's come up a few times, too," he said. "Angela was telling me about the Daniel's kid, he used to house sit for a Mohr."
"Angela?" Al said mildly.
"So we check out this Mohr chick," Ed said, spreading his hands. "But the question is, what do we check her out /for/? Demonic possession? Or maybe she's like that Bond chick who just kills people for kicks with her thighs?"
Al stared at Ed for a moment, who shrugged. "Look, the victims suffocated. Yes, with substantial bruising but there doesn't seem to be anything otherworldly than that, so maybe she's just a serial killer of the Mrs. Robinson variety."
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