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The moron actually tried to stand.
“Sit your ugly ass back down,” Sam and Dean said in unison. Grungy took it like a dare and rose to his feet. He crossed his arms like a spoiled kid and stood there in sullen silence.
“The only thing that’s gonna do, idiot,” Dean told him mockingly, “is keep you on your feet for the rest of the interview. Which doesn’t bother us at all.”
“You cain’t make me stay in here!” he shouted with all the petulance of a sleep-deprived toddler.
“Yeah,” Sam told him, finding his first spark of humor in the situation. “Keep telling yourself that and see if it makes any difference.”
Grungy’s arms dropped to his sides, and he tried to pretend he wasn’t frazzled, but his time behind bars was beginning to wear on him, and it was showing. Sam looked at Dean, and they shared a moment of connection that had been forged over more than a decade of friendship and going through doors together. They had the son of a bitch now.
“What’s wrong, man?” Dean taunted, coming around to stand in front of him. “Not getting enough exercise in solitary?”
Grungy went still as a cobra, his eyes slitted as he glared at the man who topped him by at least a foot. “Ye’re gonna wanna get outta my face,” he told him. “Way outta it.”
“No.” Dean’s smile was pure relish. “I don’t think I will.”
Grungy bared his teeth like a dog at his tether. “I done told you fer the last time,” he snarled, and Sam pitied Dean for the stench that must have radiated from that rotted pit. “I got nothin’ to say to you fellers. I plead the sixth.”
“That’s the fifth. God!” Dean laughed right down into the furious man’s face. “Even little kids know that one.”
“You know what?” Grungy’s little face balled up at the same time his fists did. “Fuck you!” And by the time he swung, Dean had grabbed the man by the back of the neck as easily as grabbing a ten-year-old and slammed him face-first into the steel table. Sam tipped his head in a nod of approval at the impressive spray of blood as the man’s nose broke magnificently. Dean held him there while he gurgled and choked.
“Let the record show,” Sam said in a clear voice, “that the defendant fell and injured himself in a clear attempt to attack my partner. My partner is now simply restraining him in the most convenient way possible.”
“Fuckin’ asshole!” Grunge gurgled. “Ya broke ma fuckin’ nose, man! I’m sueing yer asses fer sure now!”
Cas burst into the room. The man looked even more harassed and worried than when they’d been in his office, and it was clear his concern wasn’t for the man they were interrogating.
“We need to suspend this for now, guys,” Cas told them. Dean threw Grungy back into his seat, where the guy dabbed at his nose and whined about suing them again.
“We got a lead.” Sam went with his gut, stepped to where he could keep Grungy in his line of sight. “Does this have to do with Rachel and the new missing girl?”
There it was. The son of a bitch was all ears now. Not a peep about a lawyer anymore.Gotcha, you bastard. It was always just a matter of time, wasn’t it?
Cas hadn’t gotten to where he was for nothing—the man replied as if he’d intended for the conversation to take place in front of their prime suspect all along.
“Yes.” He nodded, not the best actor but rolling with it nonetheless. “Yes, it does. We’ve just got intel that the Dom the girl scened with last night was seen entering Rachel’s office about twenty minutes before their scheduled appointment.”
Sam’s blood ran cold. And from the look on Grungy’s face, so had his. Appears he didn’t like his cronies snatching new toys without him. Sam clocked the other two men’s expressions—they’d noticed as well. Good. Everyone was on the same page.
“You’re bleeding pretty bad there.” Sam tested the waters. “And you said you had nothing to say, why don’t we call some guards to take you to the infirmary?”
“They don’t have an infirmary here,” Cas told them. “This is a county jail. We’ll have to call an ambulance and have him shipped to a hospital to have that looked at. Might as well get that shit show started.”
Cas fished his cell out of his pocket with a big display of long suffering. Grungy sniffed, hocked up a loogie and spat it across the room, then wiped his nose with the tail of his shirt.
“Nah, I’m fimb,” he said with his own shirt stuffed up his nostrils.
The three of them shared a look, shrugged, and took their seats.Fimbby them.
“So, you’re not here for window dressing, dickwad,” Dean said. “Start talking, or we call the ambulance and get you shipped outta our hair for a few hours. Let a bunch of hyped-up cops on ‘roids babysit your ass. I bet they’d love to have a chance to take out some aggression. That shit builds up in them. What do you think, huh?”
“You think that scares me?” Grungy sneered and spat a wad of filth at Dean that missed his ear by less than an inch. Dean never flinched. “You think you scare me? You shits had me locked up here in Shangri-La for all this time, bringin’ me three squares an keepin’ me up real nice. I’m the one playin’ you here. Not the other way ‘round. So let’s just start by getting’ that straight right now.” He tapped the table as though he were setting the tone.
The three of them looked at each other. Dean said, “Okay, you think you’re in control of this situation. Prove it. Show us how that’s possible when we can walk out of here and you can’t.”
“When I can walk ain’t the key to this sitch, boys,” he said. “Knowledge is. And right now, I got all of it and you guys got dick, or you wouldn’t be in here jerkin’ off in front o’ me.” Then the little ratfucker giggled. “See, I know things. Important things. And important people. Now, maybe some of them things I know mean somethin’ to you. Maybe they don’t. I don’t know. Only way to know that isyouthe one’s gotta answermyquestions, see? Then I’ll know if the stuff that’s important tomeis also important toyou. Get it?”
