Rated: PG - mild language
Summary: The boys run in to Charlie on a Chupacabra hunt.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I don't have any money, please do not sue.
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Charlie Eppes, normally neither a nervous individual nor a light sleeper was woken in the dead of night. Muffled shouts and the sound of breaking wood confirmed that something was Not Normal.
At the sound of the second gunshot, this one closer, Charlie rolled off the bed and began searching through his pants pockets for his cell.
“Stay down you goat-sucking son of a bitch!” The shout came clearly through the thin motel walls.
“Dean, on your two!”
Three quick shots rang out. Charlie began dialing a number, but was sidetracked when a large man crashed through his window and lay limply on his floor and the remains of his cheaply constructed table.
“Sammy, talk to me. Sammy?!”
“I think he’s hurt.” Before Charlie could process that perhaps it was not a good idea to draw the attention of shouting, gun-wielding men to himself, the words were out.
Another man, this one with shorter hair and a bowlegged strut, crunched through broken glass and drywall in heavy boots.
“It ran again – I think I got it at least once though.”
An unenthusiastic groan was elicited from the downed man.
“I think he’s hurt.” Charlie reiterated, peeking over the bed.
The standing man stared, apparently surprised by Charlie’s appearance. “Are you okay?” He asked.
“Yeah, yeah. What is all this about?” The indomitable Eppes curiosity getting the better of him.
“FBI. Ongoing investigation.” The man was crouching to check on his partner.
“Really.” Charlie responded dubiously. “I work with the FBI on occasion, out of LA.”
“That’s peachy.” The agent responded brusquely. To the downed man, “C’mon, Sammy. Up and at ‘em. Longer we wait, farther it can run.” Astonishingly enough, the downed agent groaned and allowed himself to be helped upright. “It’s gonna disappear into the farms again – not going to fall for a lure twice.”
The formerly downed agent combed his hands through his hair, dislodging drywall and glass shards. “Then we’ll have to start with the nearest farms and work outwards.” He replied resignedly.
“Yeah.” The short haired agent responded, making it sound like, ‘you idiot’, and flashed a badge. “Who are you again?”
“Charlie Eppes. I can help you develop a statistical profile which could significantly narrow down your search area.”
“What?” The agent asked.
“Charles Eppes? Of The Attraction Equation
Charlie brightened. “Yeah.”
“I’m Sam.” The taller of the two, now bleeding slowly from several cuts on his face.
“Should I call an ambulance?” Charlie asked concernedly. Sam waved a hand in dismissal of the idea. They sure didn’t look like any agents Charlie had ever encountered.
“You could really do that for us?” Sam asked.
“Sure, if you give me some parameters and an hour.”
“I have narrowed down the search to farms in a thirty mile radius with small livestock and remote outbuildings. Given your projected flight path, those two are the most likely sites. Most specifically those three out buildings and this cluster of… maybe milking sheds? Over here.” Charlie told them, pointing out the suspect areas on Google Maps. “So what did this guy do?”
“Cattle rustling.” The shorter agent who had eventually been introduced only as Dean by Sam, responded just as Sam replied, “Aggravated assault and misuse of agricultural waste.”
Charlie’s eyes got understandably large. “Well let me know how it turns out.”
The agents left quickly, not concerned about the dark, early hour, or their lack of backup. Charlie was left with a gaping hole in his motel room and a lot of questions.
The academic haze faded, leaving Charlie wondering what exactly ‘goat-sucking son of a bitch’ had meant, and how Agent Sam had gotten thrown through his window. Not to mention that the Motel owner hadn’t even seemed to notice anything wrong with his property. By this point, dawn was coming and Charlie gave up on more sleep and left to continue towards his conference.
“Don?” Charlie asked, wandering into his brother’s cubicle area.
“I was just wondering – is the FBI involved with cattle rustling investigations? Or Agricultural Waste?”
“What?” Don returned, turning to pay his brother attention. “Agricultural waste? I’d imagine that would be part of the USDA. Why do you ask?”
“Well I ran into some agents on the way to the conference in New Mexico who said they were working on a cattle rustling/agricultural waste case.”
“Wait – ran in to? How?”
At this, Charlie looked embarrassed. “One of them crashed through my motel.”
“Like they broke in?”
“Like… through the window.” Charlie finally admitted. Don balked.
“What were their names? Did they tell you?”
“The one was Sam and the other was Dan… no, Dean.”
“Did you get last names?”
Charlie looked sheepish, “I didn’t have time to ask, really.”
Don did a quick search in the database for first names Sam and Dean on the same case files. Three files came up. The first was a man and woman out of Georgia. “Was this them?” Don asked, pulling up the second file. Charlie shook his head at the pair of agents, a black man and a thin blond.
Scrolling to the final file, “That’s them!” Charlie crowed, pointing. Something was wrong though…
“You’re sure?” Don asked, immediately tense.
“Yeah – I couldn’t miss that hair anywhere.” Charlie confirmed. “Wow, they’re brothers!”
“Yeah. It also says they’re wanted for everything from murder and torture to credit card fraud and grave desecration.” Don informed his brother, reading quickly through the file.
“What? No, that can’t possibly be right.”
“Also says they often pose as government agents when they commit their crimes – even dressed as SWAT officers to escape a bank they were robbing.”
Charlie paled. “I helped them find who they were looking for.”
“They said they were working with the FBI – flashed a badge that looked real – and I… Oh my God – we have to go look for whoever it was they wanted were shooting at.”
“They were SHOOTING. Charlie, what the hell is wrong with you?!”
“They just looked so earnest.”
No bodies were found. Nobody it turned out, including the motel owner, admitted to having seen either of the Winchester brothers. Even with the still-visible hole in the motel, inefficiently patched with two sheets of plywood and a staple gun as evidence, they could not get anybody to admit to having heard a whisper of a scuffle from the night Charlie was staying there. The only thing they found was a foul-smelling burn pit and a few broken animal bones at one of the outbuildings Charlie had pointed out.
Through it all, Don defended his brother’s naïveté, and Charlie defended himself and the Winchesters, insisting that, “They looked so earnest.”.