Prompt: For some reason, Dean lands a modeling contract. What happens?
Genre: Gen casefic
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester, Erin (Original character), minor original characters
Word count: 2407
Warning/Spoilers: Season Two, just after Sam broke his arm.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. And the way I treat them, maybe that's a good thing!
Summary: After one attack too many hits a runway show, the head of the small agency calls for help. Getting two absolutely gorgeous men answer was a stroke of luck. One has a broken arm, but the other -- getting him onto the runway was a stroke of genius.
"Places, everyone!" Erin called, bustling from model to model. "Walk time in thirty seconds!" She looked up at the ceiling and whispered, "Please don't show up tonight....."
The ceiling did not deign to answer her back, so Erin turned her attention back to her charges. "Cue music!" she said into her headset. A techno beat started a few moments later and Erin listened as the emcee introduced the event.
"Go," she said, waving the first model onto the runway. She watched as the tall woman strode confidently up the catwalk and back toward the wings. "Go," she repeated, and the second model followed the first.
This was repeated four more times, then Erin's final "Go" was delivered with a visible exhale of breath. Her eyes widened. "No...."
Erin's attention flew toward the catwalk and she saw the model make her turn. Two steps back toward the wings, and her heels suddenly snapped. Not one shoe's heel – both of them. The model toppled onto her hands and knees with a soft grunt.
Suddenly a mist descended upon the model. She let out a gasping scream as two sets of three claw marks suddenly appeared on her bare shoulders. Something heavy hit her elbow, dislocating it and sending her screaming facefirst onto the hard wood of the runway. Blood from her broken nose stained the wood.
Satisfied, the mist rose back to the ceiling and dissipated. Erin was already on the phone, calling an ambulance as screams began in the crowd.
As the model was lifted into the ambulance and the crowd dissipated, Erin sat in her office, shaking from head to toe. That was the fourth show in a row something like this had happened. She needed help, but who in creation was going to believe her?
Erin idly flipped through her address book, when something caught her eye. She lifted out a card with a handwritten phone number on it. The words under the number had been addressed to her mother.
Will help with weird. JohnW
Erin took a deep breath and reached for her phone.
Dean Winchester glanced over at his sleeping brother, sighing at the slight furrow between his eyebrows. His brother's newly broken right arm, it seemed, was plaguing him even in his sleep. Stupid zombie chick. At least the new cast was going to help him heal quicker.
Dean's attention was drawn to the ringing of a cell phone. He clawed his out, and was surprised to find it was not ringing. A quick glance at an almost-awake Sam blinking owlishly at his silent phone, and Dean reached over to the glove box. "Dad's," he said by way of explanation.
Sam handed it to him, and Dean flipped it open, amused despite himself that his little brother was still too asleep to carry on a phone conversation. "Hello?" he asked, putting it on speaker so Sam could hear as well.
"Is this John W?"
"This is his son Dean. Can I help you?"
"Your father left my mother a card to call him in case of weird shi—er, weird stuff going on. Is it possible I could talk to him?"
"Our father died a couple of months ago."
Stunned silence, then a breathy series of curse words. Dean became very impressed with this lady's vocabulary! She ended by saying, "I truly didn't know. I'm sorry."
Sam spoke up, "Thank you. I'm Dean's brother Sam. We carry on the family business. You said there was weird things going on?"
Erin sighed. "I run a modeling agency, specialising in local fashion designers' runway shows. I have, on average, one a month. Over the last four shows, we've been attacked by fog. It started with shoves, then scratches, but tonight one of my models had to be taken to the hospital."
"So it's escalating," Sam said. "Fog doesn't scratch or--"
"Or break people's noses or shove them. And that's exactly what's happening. And when it starts, we can see our breath."
"So cold spots," Dean said. "So give us your location and we'll be there as soon as we can."
Erin looked up from her desk and blinked at the two Adonises that had just appeared in her doorway. "....holy...." she breathed, standing up. "Who in the hell...."
"Miss Wade?" the tall one smiled, showing dimples that took her breath. "I'm Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean. We spoke on the phone."
Erin's mouth worked for a moment, then she gasped, "You're John's boys?"
'Yes, ma'am," they chorused. Then the shorter of the pair – Dean, she remembered his name was – said, 'Can you tell us exactly what happened?"
Right, then. Time to get back to business. She sat down and told them about the models who had been attacked. She showed them pictures of the four, and Dean's eyes widened. "Sammy, look at this. Every one has the same characteristics."
Sam nodded. "Red hair and tall. Other than that – not so much."
Dean snorted softly. "Well, at least we know this 'fog' has a type. Miss Wade, can you show us where it happened?"
"Follow me." She led them to the place and showed them where the attack happened. Dean frowned up at the ceiling. "It seemed to come from the sprinkler system, then?"
"That's not the sprinkler system. I mean it was, once upon a time, but it's not been for years and years. When they built the recycled water system, they disconnected the sprinkler system and the water tank on top of the building from it."
Dean nodded slowly. "And it only happens when you're doing a show."
Erin sighed. "Yeah. We even tried to do a mock show to draw it out – it didn't show."
Sam ran a hand over a head that suddenly looked as though it ached. "All right, then. I'll start looking into the history of this place – disappearances and things like that."
Dean nodded. "And I'll figure out some way to get close enough to protect the models if we can't solve this by the next show."
Erin broke into a broad smile. "I can help you there."
Dean's nose wrinkled. "Why do I have to sign this?"
"How better to get close to the models than to be one of them?" Erin grinned. "This will get you onto the runway to be able to do whatever it is you need to do. But to make it all legal and proper – I need you to sign this. It's just a standard modeling release. It gives you access to the runway during the show without security rushing you."
Slowly, Dean began to smile. "Free pass, huh?" He took the pen and signed his name with a quick flourish. "There. And you should know – I might have to fire at the thing." He held up a hand as her mouth opened. "The most that'll happen is the audience gets hit by falling salt. It might sting like a bitch, but nobody will be hurt."
Erin nodded. "Let's get back to Sam, then." As Dean left her office, she looked down at the 'release' and broke into a wide smile. "Gotcha."
Between Sam adjusting to typing one-handed – since his newly-casted arm still hurt too much when he moved his fingers – and models who were a bit reluctant to answer questions, the brothers hadn't completely solved the case by the time the next show rolled around.
As Dean was being fitted for his first walk on a runway, he and Sam were discussing the case when Sam's eyes suddenly widened. "I'm an idiot."
"That's old news."
Sam glared at him. "Shut up. I think I just realised what we're overlooking. Erin said the fog came from the old sprinkler system."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, but that hasn't been active in--" His jaw shut with an audible 'click' as his brain caught up with his brother's. "You think something might be in the old water tank."
"I think it's worth a shot." Sam gained his feet with a groan and gathered up the backpack with the supplies for a salt and burn.
Dean watched him shrug it on and offered, "Let me do the climbing. You're in pain."
"I'll be okay. A little slower to get there, maybe – but I'll be okay. You just focus on protecting that runway."
Sam waved his good hand and took off.
"Bitch," Dean hollered after him and sighed at the soft "Jerk!" that came back at him. He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair.
Erin stuck her head in the door. "Dean? It's time."
Erin walked onto the runway to applause. She introduced the collection's theme this month – "Heroes". She walked back into the wings as the lights lowered and the music started. She looked into the eyes of the first model. "Ready? Go."
A deep breath, and booted feet rang on the stairs. Seconds later, a man stepped into the lights.
Cowboy boots strode down the carpeted surface. Brown denim with black stripes down the outside encased the legs, held in place with a black leather belt with a silver buckle that proclaimed a love for Texas. He wore no shirt, but did have on a black vest with brown front panels. A sawed-off shotgun that looked well used was cocked jauntily over his shoulder.
Green eyes were glancing nervously around, but a shaky smile played along his lips as Dean Winchester reached the end of the runway. He turned and walked back, passing the first of the female models as he did.
Instead of dashing to get fitted for a second look, Dean stepped to the side, where he could see the runway. He could hear Erin whispering, "Don't come....don't come...." and he shot her a reassuring smile.
The first redhead stepped onto the runway and Erin groaned as the fog began to form and lower. The model made her turn and began to walk back as the fog began to edge toward her.
Suddenly Dean was vaulting onto the runway. He put himself between the model and the fog, and the shotgun roared loud in the enclosed space.
The fog dissipated and Dean hissed, "Go!" The model didn't have to be told twice – she tore for the wings so fast she stumbled.
The fog reformed into a vaguely female shape. Dean shot again, and it dissipated once more.
Dean still stood there, looking around as he pulled a pair of salt shells from the pocket of his denim slacks and reloaded the shotgun.
Sure enough, no sooner had he snapped the gun shut than the fog rolled in a third time and began to thickly coalesce into a woman's form topped by brilliant red hair. Dean shook his head and brought the gun up.
Before he could fire, the woman the fog had begun to develop into screamed. Fire burst over her form, and consumed her in a matter of seconds.
Dean lowered the gun, and stood straighter on the runway as a lightness seemed to settle over the room. "It's over," he announced.
Suddenly the audience burst into cheers and applause. Dean grinned and swept a hand toward the wings.
Realising what he wanted, Erin nodded. She took the model that Dean had protected by the hand and said, "Go take a bow with him. They think this was planned!"
The model walked out and took Dean's hand. As they waved and bowed, she asked, "Is it really over?"
"That fire was it being destroyed," Dean grinned at her. "My brother took care of it."
She gaped at him. "There's another one of you?"
Dean laughed. "Sweetheart, I'm one of a kind!"
Sam returned to the hotel room reeking, so Dean sent him straight into the shower after wrapping his cast in plastic wrap. Once he was feeling more human, he and Dean sat down to compare stories. Dean told what had happened on the runway and Sam opened his mouth to give his side, when a knock sounded on their door.
Dean looked through the peephole, then opened the door to admit Erin. Erin smiled broadly. "The rest of the show went fantastic. No more issues. Do you think that thing will come back?"
"It shouldn't," Sam said tiredly. "I burned the body but good."
Erin sat down on the bed a little hard, looking like the wind had been knocked out of her. "....the... body?"
Sam nodded. "When you said it came from the old sprinkler system, I had a hunch that something was inside the water tower. So I went and inspected it – and stuffed into a shady area was the body of a tall red-haired woman. Looked like it had been there for a few years – probably since they had deactivated the sprinklers."
Erin frowned. "But I would have noticed--"
Dean put in, "When did you start doing the runways in that building?"
"Four months ago. And we've had something every show...." Her eyes widened. "And the place was abandoned before that. Oooh, no wonder it was so damn cheap!"
Sam smiled at her. "Well, now she's at rest. And I've sent an anonymous tip to the police. I left just enough of her clothing for them to identify her. There's a serial killer who bragged that he'd killed a woman missing from the area for a decade or so, but there was never any proof. Now there is."
Erin blinked and sagged in relief. "So it's finally over."
"It's finally over," Dean grinned. "The victim has justice and is at peace now, thanks to Sammy. And your runway shows are safe."
"Good," Erin grinned back. "So when you walk in the next one you won't have to carry that gun."
"Next one?" Dean chuckled. "Oh, no, sweetheart. My modeling days are over."
"Oh, no, honey," Erin shot back. "They're not. You signed a six-month contract with my agency."
Dean's smile vanished. ".....I did not! I signed a one-time release!"
"You didn't read what you signed, honey. You belong to me now, and you're going to go far."
"I what? No way! I don't – I can't – Sam, you're the hotshot law school bitch! Get me outta this!"
Sam would. He knew he could and he promised he would.
Just as soon as he stopped laughing.