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“I’d stay away from there, rookie,” Marsden advises, and Dick glances over at him with a raised brow.
“Oh?”
Usually, Marsden is a joker. Someone who always has a sarcastic comment ready, or a pun, or some ridiculous story that makes people laugh more for its absurdity than any true humor. But right now, his expression is perfectly serious, his body language tense. He almost looks like he wants to jump between Dick and the doorway to the interrogation room.
Marsden gives a tight nod. “Yeah. Winchesters aren’t people you want to be messing with. Leave this to the FBI boys.”
Frankly, Dick is sure that he has a million times more experience with serial killers and psychos than these ‘FBI boys’ who haven’t even turned up yet, but it’s not like he can tell Marsden that. To Marsden—and everyone else in this precinct—Dick is a brand new cop, only eight months out of training. Which should mean he isn’t equipped to handle someone like Sam Winchester.
The Winchester brothers are infamous across all law enforcement, and nearly impossible to catch. They’ve been captured a few times, but always managed to escape. Sometimes even faking their deaths until the next time they pop up, like cockroaches.
Psychotic and sadistic, Sam and Dean Winchester are the worst of the worst. They kill and torture and desecrate graves, and do it all under the belief that they are apparently ‘saving the world from monsters’.
Dick has always been...curious, about them. He blames it on Bruce, raising him studying all levels of psychos. It means Dick has a certain level of—not quite fascination, but definitely a strong urge to learn more. He has, multiple times, visited serial killers in prison to learn more about the way their brains tick. And the idea of getting to talk to a Winchester—especially Sam, the one who almost left their horrifying family business to be a lawyer—is definitely something that calls to Dick.
But he has no fucking idea how he’d get any of his superiors to let him do that. There are countless people who would get first crack at attempting to talk to Sam, on the off-chance that the FBI agents actually allowed some Bludhaven cops to do so.
Doesn’t mean Dick is going to stop hovering outside the door to the interrogation room.
The entire station is on edge, but most of them are making a concerted effort to not pay any attention, pointedly staring at their computers or files or walking around with their eyes facing purposefully forward. Dick doesn’t see the point in any of it, really; they all are thinking about one thing and one thing only—why pretend?
But all of them turning their gazes away means no one really sees Dick when he walks forward on silent feet and enters the viewing room.
He closes the door carefully behind him, and the steps up to the window that allows him to see into the interrogation room.
Sam sits in one of the chairs at the table, handcuffed to a ring in the center of it. He’s facing the window, so Dick can see the slight furrow between his brows, the way his eyes are fixed somewhere by the chain connecting his wrists together.
Despite the furrow, his body language is relaxed. Dick can’t blame him; every time he or his brother have been caught in the past, they’ve gotten away. If Dick had that kind of track record (which he does, really; escaping Rogues has been his night job for years) then he’d probably be just as calm.
Sam Winchester is twenty-five years old. Was pre-law, before his girlfriend died in a fire (suspected to be caused by Dean) and he went off on a road trip with his brother that eventually was revealed to be filled with escalating crimes.
Dick wants to ask about it. He wants to sit across from the psychopath and ask what that change was like, why he went with Dean, what kind of conditioning their father put them through. He wants to understand the psychosis behind their crimes. He wants to learn everything.
His eyes slide to the small door that leads from the viewing room to the one where Sam sits. The FBI won’t be here for at least another hour. Plenty of time for Dick to ask a few opening questions.
Well then. Seems like it’s time for his first—and hopefully not last—meeting with Sam Winchester.
Time to go pick a serial killer’s brain.