Chapter Text
CHAPTER TWO: FINLEY
JULY
One hand held her burger while the other poked at her phone, leaving a greasy smear on the screen. “No new messages,” it mocked her, though she couldn’t claim to be surprised. After the last text two days previous telling her to bring back Sarah Klein at any cost short of the woman’s life, and another telling her to be discreet about it, Crowley had refused to answer any of her twenty-seven follow up texts. Finn knew she should probably cool it, given that her situation with the King of Hell was a bit precarious, but it irked her that he wanted her to jump through any and all hoops he could think of without even an inkling as to why. She should have expected it, given the source, but even for Crowley this was surprisingly tight lipped. Just what the hell was so special about Sarah Klein, anyway?
“That’s the fourth demon this week, Sam.”
That was a word you didn’t hear every day, and Finn paused in her chewing to listen harder. The other man said something she didn’t catch, and she cursed the other people blissfully chatting over their own lunches. Had her own chair not been so close to his, she probably never would have heard the first man. There was always a chance that the word “demon” was being thrown around metaphorically, but Finn doubted that- though it did raise some new questions about her own “mission.” The demons, for the most part, answered to Crowley. If he had sent his henchmen to Utah to look for Sarah Klein as well, then what did he need her for? A demon was a match for any run of the mill human even on their worst days, so it should have been an easy open and close case. Unless Sarah Klein wasn’t a human, but if that were so, then what was she?
“You still think its related to the Klein case?”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Finn’s head snapped up so fast she dripped BBQ sauce on her pants, just inches from where she had smeared toothpaste on them that morning. Surely Crowley hadn’t sent another errand bitch out to find the woman, so what was the likelihood that someone else was also looking for this target?
“You don’t? A car skids off a mountain pass on a perfectly clear day, leaving behind only one survivor, who by the way was quoted to be ranting about several people standing in the middle of the road?” The speaker was a tall man, with shaggy dark hair and the sort of looks that Finn would describe as cute, but wouldn’t be her first pick for night’s end. He was typing on a silver laptop, fortunately not noticing that she was watching. She glanced toward the other man, but his back was to her, and she wouldn’t have been able to turn without being obvious about eavesdropping. Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away and picked up a wet wipe packet, ripping it open and dabbing it on the fresh stain on her pants.
“I don’t know. You heard the nurse at the hospital- Sarah was in shock, she just lost her family. She could have been ranting about a herd of hippos in the road for all the sense she was making, and apparently she’s been going to therapy for a few months for ‘visions’ anyway. I mean yeah, it’s weird that demons seem to be vacationing in Utah, but I’m not so sure this is related.”
“I just wish we could track her down and talk to her, maybe make a little more sense out of all of this. I just… have this feeling that the two are related.”
“Yeah, maybe, but why are demons looking for a botany student? Not exactly the holy roller of Satanic worshippers, botanists. Besides, you saw how well that went- I have a bruise from that shotgun barrel her mother shoved me with.” He raised a burger to his mouth and took a big bite out of it, a few pieces of lettuce falling to the tabletop.
Why indeed? Finley thought wryly. She tossed the wipe onto her half empty plate, frowning at the wet patch before glancing back at the men. Her appetite, so ravenous before, had abandoned her completely. Apparently Crowley had tried to obtain the woman through his demons, but something had stopped them. What?
“I don’t know, but I do know how we might be able to talk to her. Look at this: the funerals for her husband and son are tomorrow.” He flipped the laptop around, showing it to his companion. Finn shifted in her seat, trying her best to read the tiny font and not succeeding, but she could see the words “Kinner Funeral Home” plastered across the top in what appeared to be Edwardian Script.
“You want to crash her family’s funeral?” The man’s distaste was evident- Finley didn’t even have to be able to see him to understand that much, it was in every syllable.
“Not really, but it may be the only chance we get with her mother guarding her. We can sneak in, pose as mourners, and hopefully catch her alone. It’s not the best plan, but it’s the only one we’ve got right now.” Frustration and impatience were etched on the speaker’s face as he pushed a fry around his plate without moving to bring it to his mouth.
“That seems a little low, even for us. Besides, what if her mom sees us? I think she was pretty serious about that ‘come near my daughter and I’ll shoot you’ thing. I don’t really care to die again, Sammy.”
Whatever retort the man named Sam had for that died on his lips, and he made a jerking motion with his head in her direction. “Dean.” His companion turned around, and Finn fumbled desperately for anything to say that might salvage the situation, hoping to make her eavesdropping less obvious, but she came up with nothing. Her job wasn’t the type that usually yielded competition, and she hadn’t been warned that there would be any here. She shoved her hand in her pocket and fumbled for the crumpled bills she had put there that morning, moving to push herself out of her chair- only to find herself chest to chest with the man she couldn’t see previously, and what a chest it was. Finn tilted her head back to get a good look at him, which was quite the task given he was over a foot taller. She felt like a child next to him, and not for the first time, cursed her petite frame for not being more imposing.
“Do you like to eavesdrop on private conversations, Barbie?” Dean’s tone was conversational, but the look of mistrust he was giving her was anything but. Sam was behind her, keeping her from an escape, which left one of two options, as far as she was concerned- screaming and making a scene, causing problems for them but herself as well, or complying until she could get away. Given how many times Crowley had stressed haste, it appeared that Finn would be taking option B. She had seen up close what happened to the people that kept Crowley waiting too long.
“Sometimes. I was more interested in the… scenery.” She smiled prettily up at him, but his expression didn’t change. It wasn’t the right time, but she couldn’t help but notice just how damn gorgeous this man was, and had she not had the feeling he was about to attack her, she would have reached up to run a finger over his sharp cheekbones playfully. Finn’s self-interest in survival was only slightly stronger than her libido, however, and she glanced once more at the door. “Speaking of, I can explain everything if we can just take this somewhere more private?” It was a lie, but stalling for time until she came up with a plan was the best thing she could think of. Hell, maybe one of Crowley’s demons would be outside if they were truly as plentiful as these two claimed, but she doubted it. Her luck had never been that good, and the demons held no interest in her, she was forbidden fruit.
“What a great idea,” Dean said sarcastically, taking her wrist as Sam led the way outside. No one paid them any attention, no doubt thinking they knew one another, and Finn was once more struck by how oblivious humans could be. They had barely made it into the parking lot before Finn was struck in the face with water, and she spluttered in surprise, shaking her head.
“Well, she’s not a demon,” Sam stated, putting the empty water bottle back into the pocket of his jacket.
Finn glared at him, pushing wet strands of hair out of her eyes. “No shit!”
“Still doesn’t explain why she’s eavesdropping on us. Hear something interesting?” Dean leaned back against a classic Impala, watching her every move. Finn raised her brow, her silence sullen. He wanted to throw Holy Water on her and then demand answers? Good luck with that. “Silent now? You were so willing to ‘explain’ a minute ago.”“Yeah, before you gave me a shower. What the fuck?”
“I suggest you start talking.” Sam’s voice was gentler than Dean’s, but still brooked no argument. Finn turned her glare on him instead. “You were very interested when we started talking about Sarah Klein. Why? Do you know her?”
“No.” There was no use lying on that front. They would find out the minute their questions got any deeper than “who is she to you?” “Are you two crazy? Don’t you think that anyone is going to be looking at you strange for talking about demons and funeral crashing in public?” She used the hem of her shirt to mop the last of the water from her face, showing off her pierced navel. She was mildly sorry to see that Dean’s attention didn’t waver from her face, like a dog on point.
“I don’t buy it. Most people, when they think someone is crazy, don’t nearly fall out of their chair trying to get a look.” She had to give it to him, Sam was observant. It was quite annoying, but she supposed that was how he had survived this long. The hunting world wasn’t one that was very big on second chances, and for him to speak so casually of demons definitely told her he was a hunter since he obviously wasn’t a priest. “Something we said got your interest. You’re not a demon, so what was it?”
She folded her hands over her chest, looking between the two men. Inside her pocket, her phone buzzed, and she groaned inwardly. Only one person had her number, and trust him to find now an excellent time to answer her. “If I answer you, you return the favor?”
“This isn’t a negotiation. Get talking,” Dean ignored the look Sam gave him. Finn wondered whether he was always this irritable, or if she was a special case that brought it out in him.
“Fine. I’m a demon hunter.” Oh, what a lie. She was sure if Crowley could hear her now, he would nearly piss himself laughing. “My name is Finley Morris, I’m a Leo and I detest long walks on the beach, happy now?”
“What do you know about Sarah Klein?”
“About as much as you do, honestly.” At least that wasn’t a lie. “For what it’s worth, I do think there’s some credibility to your belief that she’s tied up in the sudden demon appearances here, but I haven’t seen her or talked to her. Hell, I just got here a few hours ago myself.” Dean was still looking skeptical, but she could see Sam at least partially believed her, and she sighed more out of relief than exasperation. “What? Do you want to frisk me or something?” She raised a brow at Dean, who glanced at Sam before shaking his head slightly. “I think the least you can do is tell me who you two are after kidnapping me from a perfectly good lunch.”
“I’m Sam Winchester,” the taller man stated, holding out his hand to shake hers. “This is my brother, Dean. Sorry about that, it’s been a rough few days.”
The Winchesters? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking hell fuck. Finn didn’t know whether to be in awe or vaguely sick. Everyone who hunted anything knew who the Winchesters were, but that was a double edged sword as well. A case the Winchesters were on could hardly be called discreet, and it definitely made her anticipated Houdini act with her target all the more difficult. “If ‘a rough few days’ can lead to kidnapping, I’d hate to see what a good day brings,” she joked, forcing herself to stay calm. Her phone buzzed again, not helping the situation. “If you two want to give me a few hours to get settled and find something a little more appropriate to wear, I’ll tag along with you to the funeral home. Before you object,” she nodded to Dean, “I’m going either way. I just figure since we’re all looking into the same case, we should work together. More eyes, you know?” She pulled her bike key out of her pocket, the goldfish keychain winking in the sunlight. “I’ll meet you here six- we can work out our game plan then.” She turned on heel before either of them could respond, the gravel crunching under her boots as she walked away. Part of her figured they wouldn’t turn up that night, but that was inconsequential. Neither of them followed her, and that was all that mattered. They might not trust her, but they weren’t in her way for the moment, and they had given her her first lead on Sarah Klein. It wasn’t the best case she had ever worked, but it was a start, and as she swung a leg over her bike, Finley whistled to herself cheerfully. Time to find some new clothes, a hotel, and to see what Crowley had to say for himself.