"Agent Tyler, Agent Perry, Agent Whitford, meet Frank O'Brien," the coroner said as he opened the body bag. Word got around that Frank died of a heart attack. Nothing strange about that, but he was in excellent health plus a marathon runner. With someone of his health and background, he shouldn't have died at his age. It was weird enough to get on your radar and weird enough for Dean to think there might be a case. Which is why you and the brothers were at the morgue, checking it out.
"He died of a heart attack, right?" Sam asked.
"Three days ago."
"But O'Brien was 44 years old and, according to this a marathon runner," you stated, looking at the report in your hands.
"Everybody drops dead sooner or later. It's why I got job security."
"Yeah, but Frank kicked it here. Now, just yesterday, two perfectly healthy men bit it in Maumee. All heart attacks, you don't think that's strange?" Dean inquired.
"Sounds like Maumee's problem to me. Why's the FBI give a damn, anyway?" the coroner asked suspiciously.
"I don't question where I go, neither should you," you answered. "We just want to see the autopsy report."
"What autopsy?"
"The one you're gonna do," you said with a tight smile. The coroner sighed but did as he was told. He got everything ready, including giving you three gloves and an apron to protect your clothing. Never in your life have you seen an autopsy done before, but there was always a first time for everything, right? After the coroner got the things ready, he started the autopsy and cut open the dead body. Immediately from the start, both Sam and Dean silently gagged at the smell. You, on the other hand, couldn't wait to see the inside of a person. You were weird like that.
"First dead body?" the coroner asked with a smirk.
"Far from it," Dean answered.
"Oh, good. Because these suckers can get pretty ripe. Hey, hand me those rib cutters, would you?" he asked. As Dean picked up the cutters, Sam took a fortifying breath. The sound of bones breaking wasn't the most pleasant of sounds, but it looks like Sam couldn't stand the thought.
"Is that from a wedding ring? I didn't think Frank was married," Dean observed the faint outline of a ring on the ring finger.
"Ain't my department."
"Any idea how he got these?" Sam asked, lifting Frank's arm which was covered in what looked like homemade scratches.
"You know what? When you drop dead, you actually tend to drop. Body probably got scraped up when it hit the ground," the older gentlemen said, inspecting the heart. The more he stared at it, the more he frowned. "Huh."
"What is it?" you asked.
"I can't find any blockages in any of the major arteries," he sighed, using the tools he had to break the heart out of place. With one look to the organ, Dean's face turned green with disgust. It looked like he was about to vomit.
"Heart looks pretty damn healthy," he said before handing Dean the organ. "Here, hold that a second, would you?" Dean let the coroner drop the heart in his glove-covered hands. Both you and Sam smirked at Dean's stone features, and as the coroner cut something else in the body, a squirt of blood shot out of the body and onto Sam's face. Keeping a straight face was near impossible, and you let two snickers sneak past your lips. The brothers stared at you with bitch faces, but not before something wet hit your face.
"Oh, sorry, spleen juice," the coroner apologized just as the brothers smirked at you.
"You know what?" you asked as you quickly wiped the disgusting fluid off your skin. "Who was the officer assigned to the case?"
"That would be Sheriff Britton. He should still be in his office at his time."
"Great. Boys want to head there?" you asked, taking off your gloves. They wasted no time following your lead. On your way out, you made sure to get a squirt of hand sanitizer.
"You got spleen juice on your face," Sam smirked.
"So did you," you retorted, sticking your tongue out at him.
"Can we focus, please?" Dean asked as he walked to the car. The drive to the station didn't take long at all, and when you entered, you greeted the deputy on duty.
"Hi, can I help you?"
"Yes, we need to talk to Sheriff Britton. I'm Agent Whitford and these are my partners, Tyler and Perry," you flashed the young man a badge.
"If you could just wait, I'll let him know you're here," the deputy said.
"Thank you, Deputy Linus," you read his name tag. Giving him a smile, you took a seat by the desk, the brothers doing the same. Linus went back to work, doing whatever it is he was doing while the three of you waited. Clearing your throat, you looked at Linus who barely met your eyes.
"Hell's bells," the sheriff said as he opened his door to his office, "Linus, have you seen my.... Who are they?" At the mention of you and the Winchesters, you all stood.
"Federal Agents," the young man stuttered.
"And you kept them waiting?"
"You—you said not to disturb."
"Come on back, gentlemen, lady," the sheriff said, escorting you into his office. However, before you could enter, he stopped you. "Shoes off." Gently kicking off your heels, you stepped into the office and took the first seat closest to the door.
"Al Britton. Good to meet you," he smiled, shaking each of your hands.
"You too," you said with a polite smile. The sheriff took a seat, and as soon as he did, he took out alcohol gel and slathered some on his hands. After exchanging weird glances with the brothers, you cleared your throat.
"Okay, what can I do for Uncle Sam?"
"We're looking into the death of Frank O'Brien. We understand some of your men found his body," Sam started.
"They did. Me and Frank, we were friends. Hell, we were Gamecocks," he sighed. Dean snickered at the name but lost it once the sheriff gave him a stern look. "That's our softball team's name. They're majestic animals. I knew Frank since high school. To be honest, just this morning, I got up the strength to go see him. Frank was... He was a good man."
"Yeah, big heart," Dean commented.
"Before he died, did you notice Frank acting strange? Maybe scared of something?" you asked, crossing your left leg over your right one.
"Oh hell, yeah. Real jumpy."
"You know what scared him?"
"No. Wouldn't answer his phone. Finally, I sent some of my boys over to check on him, and well, you know the rest," he informed you, slathering some more alcohol gel onto his hands. Catching Dean's "what the fuck" look, you smirked but kept silent.
"So, why the Feds give a crap? You don't really think there's a case here?"
"No, no. It's probably nothing. Just a heart attack," Dean said.
"Do you have anything else to add, Sheriff Britton?" you asked.
"No, I'm afraid not."
"Then I guess we're done here. Thank you for your time," you smiled, getting up. Leading the way, you put your shoes back on after you left, Sam and Dean doing the same.
"If there is anything you need, drop by." Smiling at the sheriff, you left the station, and only when you were out of earshot, you spoke of the case.
"No way that was a heart attack."
"Definitely no way," Sam agreed. "Three victims, all with those same red scratches. All went from jittery to terrified to dead within 48 hours."
"Something scared them to death?"
"What can do that?" you asked.
"What can't? Ghosts, vampires, Chupacabra? It could be a hundred things."
"Yeah. So, we make a list and start crossing things off," Sam sighed.
"Alright, who's the last person to see Frank O'Brien alive?" Dean asked.
"Uh, his neighbor, Mark Hutchins."
"Hang on, hang on," Dean said, looking at some teenagers talking by the car.
"What is it?" you asked.
"I don't like the looks of those teenagers down there," he pointed to the bunch. Frowning, you and Sam looked at them with weird faces. Not because of them, because of Dean. "Let's walk this way," Dean crossed the street, but you didn't follow him.
"Was that weird to you too?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," you shrugged, trying not to think too much of it. Dean could get really protective of his car. Nonetheless, you had a case to do.
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"Tyler, Perry, and Whitford. Just like Aerosmith," Mark said with a slight chuckle. Once you entered Mark's place, you were fascinated but also creeped out by the interior. There were all kinds of reptiles he had as pets which was awesome, but there was so much clutter, you could barely walk anywhere.
"Yeah, small world," Sam chuckled. "So, the last time you saw Frank O'Brien?"
"Monday, he was watching me from his window. I waved at him, but he just closed the curtains."
"Did you speak to him recently? Did he seem different? Uh, scared?" you asked, trying not to focus on Dean's frightened expressions. He seemed scared of all the animals in here which never bothered him before.
"Oh, totally. He was freaking out."
"Do you know, uh—do you know what scared him?" Dean asked in a stutter.
"Well, yeah, witches."
"Witches?" you asked, sharing a look with the brothers. "Like...?"
"Well, "Wizard of Oz" was on tv the other night, right? And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him."
"Anything else scare him?" Sam asked.
"Everything else scared him. Al-Qaeda, ferrets, artificial sweetener. Those pez dispensers with their dead little eyes. Lots of stuff," he shrugged. Dean looked around at all the different animals, settling on the fish inside the aquariums.
"So, tell me. What was Frank like?"
"I mean, he's dead, you know? I—I don't want to hammer him but, he got better."
"He got better?" you questioned.
"Well, in high school he was a dick, like a bully. I mean, he probably taped half the town's butt cheeks together. Mine included."
"So, he pissed a lot of people off. You think anyone would have wanted to get revenge?" Dean asked.
"Well, I don't... Frank had a heart attack, right?"
"Just answer the question, sir," you said with a tight smile.
"No, I don't think so. Like I said, he got better. Plus, after what happened to his wife..."
"His wife? So he was married," Dean nodded.
"She died about 20 years ago. Frank was really broken up about it," Mark nodded. Dean looked at the snake around Mark's neck, gulping at the sight.
"Don't be scared of Donny. He's a sweetheart. It's Marie you got to look out for," he said as he nodded to right behind Dean. "She smells fear." A yellow Albino snake crept up from behind Dean, and as soon as he saw it, he gasped loudly. He stayed very still as the snake slithered onto his body, exploring unknown territory. Looking at Dean, you didn't know why he was acting this way. He wasn't usually scared of anything. Marie slithered from Dean's body onto yours, and you welcomed her with a smile.
"Hi, Marie," said, letting her slither up your arm. Dean stared at you with wide eyes, fear dancing around in his pupils. What has gotten into him?
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You and Dean thought it would be best for Sam to check out Frank's place while you and Dean read on the files you got from the county clerk's office. Everything they had on Frank and his wife was in yours and Dean's hand. Looking up from your case file, you noticed Dean scratching his arm which was starting to get red.
"Dean, you okay?" you asked, motioning to his arm.
"Yeah, I'm good," he cleared his throat and stopped scratching.
"Are you sure? You seemed freaked out this morning. You can talk to me, you know."
"I know. I-I'm fine," he stuttered. Before you could question him further, Sam got into the car.
"Any luck at the county clerk's office?"
"I'm not sure I'd call it luck. Frank's wife, Jessie, was a manic-depressive. She went off her meds back in '88 and vanished. They found her two weeks later, three towns over. Strung up in her motel room, suicide," Dean explained.
"Any chance Frank helped her along to the other side?"
"No, Frank was working the swing shift when she disappeared. Airtight alibi," you answered as Dean started the car. He pulled into traffic when it was safe and headed back to the motel room.
"How was Frank's pad?" Dean asked.
"Clean. Searched it top to bottom. No EMF, no hex bags, no sulfur."
"So probably no ghosts, no witches, no demons," Dean scoffed. "3 down and 97 to go."
"Yeah," Sam nodded, looking at Dean as he drove. The sound of a car horn going off caught your attention as a car passed you. Frowning, you looked at the dashboard and saw Dean was going the speed limit, which he never did. "Dude, you're going 20."
"And?"
"That's the speed limit," you said.
"What? Safety's a crime now?" Dean asked, driving through the intersection that passed your motel.
"Where are you going? That was our motel," you said, not knowing why Dean didn't take a left-hand turn when needed.
"Y/N, I'm not gonna make a left-hand turn into oncoming traffic. I'm not suicidal," Dean scoffed. Sam gave you a weird look which matched your own. "Did I just say that? That was kind of weird." The sound of the EMF reader went off in the duffel bag next to you, and you took it out to inspect it. Moving it away from Dean, it went silent, but when you moved it closer, it went off.
"Am I haunted? Am I haunted?!" Dean asked, clearly panicking.
"I think we need to call my dad," you said with a sigh.