#entire day together but like ma’am according to that story you wouldn’t have arrived in Dublin before 3pm at the earliest

[nicoscheer]

🐢🐒

(via mileskanedailyupdate's IG story, 18.10.2023)

[iwrite-sometimes]

Family is thicker than blood

Chapter 3 

Chapter 1 here Chapter two here

AO3

Hank had to give back the picture, no matter how much he wished he could keep it. A lot of instabilities in his software happened when he looked at it, but mainly he just didn’t have a place to keep it and he could guess that Amanda’s reaction to it wouldn’t be good if she were to find it. So he kept the memory of the picture in his main processor and gave it back. Connor took the picture and looked at him. The android gave him a little sad smile and tapped his forehead. A ghost of a smile passed the child’s lips before he took the photo frame and hid it in Niles side of the room. Smart.

Connor apparently had to keep doing some schoolwork-Which was bullshit as the kid had been doing that the entire day-, so Hank went to prepare dinner and finish all he had left before Amanda came home.

Dinner was just as plain as everything else he’d cooked so far and Hank was glad he didn’t have to eat this shit. Poor kid. I’ll try and give him something he can actually taste soon.

His instabilities were increasing, after all, he shouldn’t be planning to disobey his owner, but his owner was just full of shit so he didn’t worry about it too much.

Amanda arrived and the meal came and went on a much more peaceful manner than before, and for that Hank was grateful. Once they were done, he had to take care of the dishes while Connor and Amanda had some ‘quality time’ together. He was sure this woman’s definition of quality time was not the same as the one his database was showing him. He couldn’t, no matter how much processing power he invested, picture this bitch Amanda playing with Connor or watching a movie with him. Hell, he doubted she could hold a conversation that wouldn’t end up with a distraught little boy. It was fair to say he was worried about this. He finished cleaning up so he decided to wait for Connor to finish outside the library. He then had to help the kid take a shower and get ready for bed.

He decided that standing next to the door would be the best, and if he adjusted his hearing a little to be able to listen to what was going on inside the room, well, nobody would know anyways. He heard some slow steps, like someone leisurely pacing the room. Going by the sound of them he could assume it was Amanda.

“Hmm. Start again. Let’s see if you are able to get it right this time.”

He heard Connor take a long shaky breath and in a shakier voice started talking.

“Phillip II introduced a new kind of i-infantry known as the Macedonian ph-phalanx. The tight formation of the Macedonian phalanx formed a wall of spears, which was considered nearly impermeable.” It was the first time Hank had heard Connor speak and he absolutely hated it. The way his breath hitched, his voice shook, the way his entire tone was just laced with fear and exhaustion made Hank’s blue blood boil.

“Impenetrable, Connor! How is an army supposed to be resistant to water!? Use your logic when reading if you cannot read the words correctly, or is that so hard to ask!?” A loud noise followed Amanda’s cool and harsh tone. Like something plastic hit wood with a sharp sound.

The android could hear the kid start crying silently. This is quality time for this bitch!? Hank’s systems were going haywire. He wanted to get in there and snatch the kid and just get him out of this place. He could see a little of static again out of the corner of his eye, he took a deep breath to ventilate his overheating components. He raised his fist and gently knocked on the door.

“Yes?” Amanda opened the door and stood there, looking at the android with a raised eyebrow. He couldn’t see Connor but he could hear the young boy’s soft crying.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. It is close to Connor’s bedtime and I wanted to know if I should get him ready.”

The woman was quiet for a minute, regarding Hank with an icy stare.

“You will never interrupt again, Rk400. You will wait outside until we are finished, have I made myself clear?”

“Absolutely, ma’am. I apologize.” If Hank were human, he would have had some other words for this woman, but he wasn’t, so he stayed silent. Amanda looked at the android for a moment longer, before slightly angling her body away from the door.

“Connor, bedtime. We shall continue tomorrow.” The sound of a book closing followed by eager little footsteps approaching the door. Connor was there, holding his plush dog close to his chest. He wasn’t crying anymore, but his movements were quick and he rushed to get out of the room, or to get away from his mother. Hank wasn’t sure which, but he could take a pretty good guess.

The android grabbed the little boy’s hand and moved to lead him out of here when Amanda spoke again.

“Hendrik, bedtime does not include any type of stories or infantile games before he goes to sleep. Your programing might push you to it, but Connor doesn’t need to loose time in such a ridiculous fashion.”

“Yes, ma’am. Have a good night.” Hank wished he could tell this woman exactly what he wanted, but those were probably words Connor didn’t need to learn for a long time. He lead the boy to his room to get ready.

Connor’s room had a little ensuite, which would make calming down the boy a lot easier. Once they were inside the bathroom, Hank picked Connor up and placed him in the big counter next to the sink. His little face was flushed by crying and he had tear tracks in his cheeks. The android grabbed a small cloth from a drawer and soaked it with warm water. It was kind of useless giving the fact that Connor had to take a shower anyways, but Hank thought this could help calm him a little.

He gently cleaned the boy’s face and watched as Connor uncurled himself with his soft movements. His breathing calmed a little and his eyes were not watery anymore.

“There, that’s better. Right, kiddo?” Connor gave a small nod while looking at the android.

“Tell you what. Why don’t we choose some nice PJ’s and then you can take a warm shower so you can get some rest.” The boy nodded and both approached the wardrobe in the room. Connor opened a different side of it that Hank hadn’t seen yet. He took out some pajamas and went back into the bathroom. After Hank confirmed that the boy could take a shower by himself, he told him he was going to wait right outside the door just in case he needed him. He cranked his hearing a little just in case.

A while later, Connor came out of the bathroom sporting the pajamas he picked. They were different from the ones he was using that morning but were equally big on him. The legs dragged and the sleeves went pass his hands.

“Aren’t those a little too big for ya, kid? I can look for other ones.”

Connor shook his head and lifted a little hand to point to his brother’s bed. Connor was wearing Nile’s pajamas.

“Alright, as long as you’re comfortable it’s cool.”

Hank took the boy back to the bathroom so he could dry his hair. He found one of those modern things to dry hair and did a quick search on how to use it. Eh, it looked easy enough. He sat Connor back on the counter and notice the little annoyed face he had.

“Don’t like this thing?” Connor shook his head. “I’ll be fast, ok? Promise.”

He didn’t want the boy to be uncomfortable, but he also knew he couldn’t sleep in wet hair. According to what he found on this hair drier it was supposed to work fast, so he was hoping that was true.

Connor placed his hands on both ears to block out the noise while Hank dried his hair. They were done fast and he took the boy back to his room. Hank thought that the fact the boy’s mother had forbidden him from telling the kid a story before bedtime was complete bullshit, but as he was quickly learning, most of the stuff this woman did were complete bullshit. He would think of a way in which he could go around this order while he was on his charging port. He wouldn’t disobey it, he would just…stretch it a little, see how it goes.

He pulled back the covers and picked the kid up. Once he was all set he pulled the covers on top of him and couldn’t help but to tuck him in, making sure he was all warm. Connor was still holding his little dog and looking at the android closely.

“All set?”

The kid nodded and Hank intended on turning the lights off and leaving the child for some much needed rest, but something in his processor stirred. He didn’t know what it was, but it warmed his core in a fuzzy way, not like he overheating, this was something different. Giving into the impulse, Hank raised a hand to ruffle the brown curls on the boy’s head and then placed a gently kiss on his forehead. He heard a small gasp coming from Connor and for a minute he was afraid he had overstepped with the kid. He pulled back a little and the next thing he knew, he had an armful of little boy.

He held Connor close until the kid pulled back to look at him.

“D-do you remember now?” Connor’s voice was quiet but full of hope.

Remember? Was he supposed to remember something? The confusion must have been clear on his face, but the boy didn’t seem to mind. Connor hugged him back, burying his face in the crook of the android’s neck.

“It’s ok. You’ll remember. Nines told me that you will.” Connor said that with such force that Hank wished he could remember whatever he had forgotten only to make this little boy happy. He felt some warm tears wetting his neck and moved to sit fully in the bed.

“Hey, now. It’s ok. You’re ok. Shhh.” The android pulled the kid in his lap so he could hold him properly and started rubbing his little back.

“I missed you a lot, Hank.” Tears kept coming from the boy and it completely broke Hank’s metaphorical heart. He didn’t know how long he was gone from the first time Amanda became his owner until now, but judging by Connor’s reaction, he was gone long enough.

He pulled the kid back a little and wiped the tears off his cheeks. He continued to rub his back to calm him down.

“Hey now, it’s ok kiddo. I’m here now. Not leaving any time soon, alright?” He held the boy for a little longer and gently tucked him back in bed.

“Try to get some sleep, bud. Long day, you must be wrecked. Get some rest. I’ll be here tomorrow, promise.” Connor nodded a little and nuzzled into the blankets with his plush back in his arms. Hank smiled warmly and ruffled his hair one more time.

“G’night kid.”

Connor closed his eyes and Hank moved towards the door. He turned the lights off and just as he was leaving the room, he heard a small voice say “I’m really glad you’re back” before the kid was completely out.

Hank felt that same warm feeling deep inside his core. He couldn’t explain him but this little boy made him feel things he wasn’t programed to feel. Technically, he wasn’t programed to feel anything. Period.

Heading back to the laundry room, Hank passed by Amanda’s bedroom. He could hear the TV on but didn’t pay any mind to it and continue his way until he heard the news anchor say something about androids. He stopped next to the door and tried to listen.

“Earlier today, the android representative, the AX400 named Kara, had a series of meetings with the city representatives. They keep discussing the topics of equal rights towards all androids and the liberation of any android still within their programing that may be kept captive by their former owners. Kara and President Warren are expected to have a meeting at the end of the month to discuss further issues. For the moment, androids have been recognized as sentient beings and laws are being issued to protect the integrity of-”

The sound stopped abruptly and Hank began moving again in case Amanda found him snooping about here. Androids were free now? That didn’t make much sense, why would they need that? And how did it even happen? Deviant his mind supplied. He vaguely remembered that word, but didn’t know much more about it. Androids broke their programing. They had rights now, not a lot of them, but they were not slaves anymore. He really didn’t know how to feel about that.

Hank got to his port and didn’t go into stasis immediately. The bitch, Amanda said that he had to be at the port once Connor was in bed, but she didn’t say he had to go into stasis, so he started thinking about all that happened so far.

So much had happened in just one day. It was kind of hard for him to wrap his head around it. First it was the fact that Hank apparently had two different memory swipes. One before he first came to work at the Stern house and the other one recently. He had no idea what had happened that needed him to have his memory erased and he didn’t know how much time he was missing in between these swipes. But even with him having all his memories erased, he could feel things that he shouldn’t. Something like a gut feeling but a lot deeper. Like he knew things within his core but didn’t remember them correctly.

Then there was Amanda. Boy was she a piece of work. All of his programs were conflicted in this part. His original programing wanted to kill report her for child mistreatment. It was clearly a common thing for Connor to feel so uneasy around his mother. The way she treated the boy was downright abusive and would warrant at least an investigation. He knew he couldn’t do anything like that, if not for anything else than his programing stopping him. But there was also the subject of Connor. This shy and quiet little boy that managed to warm Hanks systems with a single smile. Connor made him feel things he shouldn’t be capable of feeling. He wanted to protect this child, take him away from this horrid place and show him a home. He didn’t know what that was exactly, but he was sure he was more qualified to do it than this kid’s “mother” at least.

The android liberation was another issue. He had no idea that was happening in the city. He remembered the technician being nervous about the revolution when he was in the lab, but he had no idea that had already happened. It was technically illegal for Amanda to own him; he was a person now by the looks of it. He could report her he supposed, but all his thought went back to Connor. That kid needed him more than he could imagine. Hank wouldn’t leave Connor and that was clear as hell for him. He supposed he could run with Connor, if he broke his code. He had seen a bunch of software instabilities appear in his HUD, but he could still tell he wasn’t deviant.

What the hell would I do with a kid in the streets?

If they ran away, what then? Connor was human and Hank might be a person in the eyes of the law now, but that didn’t mean they were gonna hand him a human child just like that. Even if he could proof that Amanda was abusing the boy, they would probably just be taken into foster care or some shit and Hank wouldn’t allow that. Niles was also an issue. Sure, the android didn’t know him, but every time he looked at the picture of the three of them in his mind something inside him stirred. He could feel it that they had been very close at a time. Connor looked to be really close to his brother too, so he couldn’t expect the kid to just abandon him. So, he planned.

There wasn’t much to do except wait. He would bide his time and see what his possibilities were. He would try and break his programing without alerting Amanda and then pretend things were fine. Then he would try and make this kid’s life a little better without the pull of his programing in the way. He’d try and gather as many resources as he could and have them ready as a plan B, just in case that one day they would have to just up and leave. He had three months at the most to secure a plan and get it moving. Amanda would be taking him to get his programing checked in that time, so he had to act fast before she noticed what he was planning.

That was really all he could think about. There was not much more to do. He remembered the glitches from earlier. He could remember something about Connor crying and then nothing more. He didn’t know what happened precisely, but he wasn’t programed with investigative purposes for nothing. He knew they had installed some type of software to stop him from deviating. He supposed the glitches were due to that thing being in his program. So he would test it.

It was easy to do it now, his instructions were to not move until he had to get Connor up, so just by trying to move he saw that big red wall. He blinked a little and saw a string of code that was near him. It was an unknown code, the anti-deviancy program. Gotcha. Hank tried to touch the code but could feel his systems going haywire so he just left it. The android placed a hand in the wall and pushed lightly. He assumed that the code would act against any violent actions. He kept an eye on the code and put a little more pressure on the wall. He could feel it buzz and after a while he heard a crack. It was small, almost unnoticeable. Hank decided to leave it for now, he didn’t want the code to detect his intentions and start a reboot again. He would do a little push at the time, maybe he could break it like that. If he didn’t manage it by the end of the week, he would think of something else.

For now, he stored his plans in his back processor just in case and went into stasis. He would protect these kids even if it killed him.

[aurora-nova-fic]

Archimedes Snippets, Part 2

A couple more ideas for Garak as a Starfleet spouse, following All Our Tomorrows. Because the muse doesn’t want to work on a complete story so much as little scenes here and there in various follow-up works.

As before, these are unpolished (you can tell, because the tenses switch from one snippet to the next). I’m not really doing anything with these, just getting the ideas down so I can stop writing them in my head.

The Bashir & Garak show moves. The crew of the Archimedes is intrigued.

The Archimedes is twenty hours into its two-year mission when Bashir and Garak first argue in public.

This doesn’t escape anyone’s notice. Starfleet gossips. Not everyone, of course; the exact amount of gossip per person varies considerably. Any ship or station with a large percentage of Vulcans can be expected to show a corresponding drop in this behavior (sociologists have done studies, inherent difficulties in studying the subject notwithstanding). On the whole, though, it’s a popular pastime, especially when things are a bit dull at the moment or when a new crew comes together.

The USS Archimedes is fresh from Utopia Planetia with a new crew still getting to know each other, and it doesn’t surprise anyone when the first focal point of gossip is Dr. Julian Bashir.

For one thing, their CMO comes to the Archimedes from Deep Space Nine, where he was indisputably a hero of the Dominion War. His discovery of the cure for the changeling disease helped end the war, though for some reason that’s the only medical topic about which he doesn’t like to speak. He was there from the beginning of the quadrant’s conflict with the Founders, survived a Dominion internment camp, and developed an antigen to prevent the spread of a Dominion-bioengineered disease.

He’s also the first Augment allowed to serve openly in Starfleet, which is still controversial in some circles. The idea is that he’s not Khan, but some people are afraid he’s the tip of a dangerous iceberg. Nobody on the Archimedes knows Bashir’s personal feelings on the subject of genetic engineering, because the only people brave enough to ask, this early in the voyage, are also wise enough to know it’s not their business.

What really secures Bashir’s place as the grapevine’s favorite subject is his marriage. He arrives on the Archimedes newly married, which would’ve been unremarkable if his husband hadn’t been a Cardassian. A Cardassian who worked with the Federation during the war but may have been an Obsidian Order agent before that. Nobody on the ship is entirely sure, nor do they know exactly what said order actually did, but they assume it was something like the Tal Shiar and don’t like the idea one bit.

So it’s natural that everyone’s watching them. And what the crew sees confuses them at first.

Not a full Earth day after leaving Deep Space Nine, Bashir takes a late lunch and meets his husband in the mess hall. A handful of alpha shift crewmembers are around, and some of the beta shift getting an early breakfast, so there a good dozen witnesses to see both of them getting worked up. They speak quietly, but have intent facial expressions and both gesture with abandon.

“Didn’t they just get married?” asks Taiya, a beta shift engineer.

“I heard they practically came aboard from their honeymoon,” replies MacPherson, who then has to explain the concept to Taiya and thus learns Andorians have no equivalent.

“Short honeymoon phase,” adds Kowalczyk.

To the trio’s delight, Bashir and Garak have gotten so into their argument they raise their voices. “… absolute caricature of a villain is insulting to the reader.”

Bashir’s eyebrows fly up. “Really? That’s your next complaint?”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me anyone goes around proclaiming, ‘Woe me, I’m so hideous to look at, I must therefore kill my brother and nephews.’ As motivations go, it lacks any semblance of credence.”

Taiya’s antennae twitch in confusion.

“You’re deliberately ignoring his motivation,” insists Bashir. The audience doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. “Gloucester claims to have been ‘cheated of feature by dissembling nature,’ so wronged that even dogs bark when he walks by.”

“From my understanding, Terran dogs bark all the time. It’s hardly good reason to kill your own brother.”

“He feels everyone hates him because of his physical appearance. ‘And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, to entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain.’ If he’d been shown kindness and love, he wouldn’t have been so angry. His life could’ve been entirely different!”

“You cannot possibly intend to read this as advocating the healing power of love.”

“No, because we don’t see anyone show Gloucester love, but think of the possibility. His life could’ve been entirely different if…”

“…he lived in a time when his deformities could be easily treated?”

“…people weren’t so shallow.”

“That is a theory not remotely supported by the rest of the text.”

“Shakespeare,” says MacPherson. “I think that’s Richard III.” When the others give him a questioning look, he shrugs. “My mother does community theater, so I spent a lot of time at rehearsals as a kid. You pick these things up.”

Bashir’s combadge beeps. “We’ll have to continue this discussion later,” he says. He and Garak briefly press their palms together, and then the doctor heads out of the mess hall.

Garak looks towards the observing trio, smiles knowingly, and picks up a padd.

This becomes a pattern. Bashir and his husband (no one even knows if the man has a first name) don’t act like newlyweds in love. They argue. Constantly. In fact they argue more than Vord can believe, and she’s a Tellarite. A Tellarite who joined Starfleet to escape the constant verbal sparring of Tellar, if it matters, but even on her homeworld, marriage is supposed to be a refuge from conflict.

They meet for lunch when Bashir’s schedule permits. The crew begins to consider this a source of entertainment, even when they don’t have any knowledge of the books under discussion. It’s usually literature at lunch. Human and Cardassian, mostly, but they sometimes add in works from other societies with no rhyme or reason anyone else can figure. Taiya says they’re both wrong about a seminal Andorian novel, according to a Written Arts teacher she had at age sixteen.

They’re obviously fast readers, given that they discuss a new book every other day, every third at the outside. Either that, or, as Kowalczyk says, they have a lot less sex than your average newlyweds.

Some ten days into the mission, Bashir calls a Cardassian book derivative and Garak reaches new levels of primly outraged.

“Derivative! Just because your authors have no respect for tradition doesn’t mean the rest of the galaxy is so enamored with the new.” He’s clearly gearing up for a long diatribe. Some of the crew pause their own lunch to watch the spectacle when Bashir’s combage chirps, and he gets up with clear regret.

That’s when people start to realize the CMO and his husband love debating. This is a honeymoon phase, weirdly enough. The pair is spotted coming out of Holodeck 1 disagreeing on the program they’d just run.

“You’re not supposed to suspect Watson.”

“I don’t see why not,” replies Garak. “If he’s constructing the narrative, he could well be the murderer.”

It appears there’s nothing they won’t argue. This doesn’t stop them from looking like they want to jump each other, though they are actually very decorous in public. No one has ever seen them do more than press their hands together.

People wonder what happens when they’re actually fighting. It turns out, silence. One day, a month into the mission, they eat quietly. It’s unnerving. They must make up overnight, though, because the following day they’re at it again, hashing out opposing views on a Cardassian poet.

Kotra references come in handy

“Archimedes to Bashir,” said Lt. (j.g) Connelly, Operations Officer.

It was a long moment before the CMO responded, and if he didn’t have a good reason, Andrea was going to have a chat with him about setting alarms for check-ins.

“Bashir here.”

“You’re overdue for check-in, Doctor,” said Andrea.

“My apologies, Captain. The aid evaluation is very complex.”

That was what alarms were for, Andrea thought. “Anything to report?”

“It’s a delicate matter. I should have a better idea of what’s needed shortly.”

They’d responded to a request for help from a small Klingon colony in need of medical assistance. Andrea hadn’t even known there was a Klingon colony in the Gamma Quadrant, but the Empire wasn’t obligated to disclose every settlement to the Federation, and were within their agreed-upon rights here. The Archimedes therefore dispatched an away team to see what could be done about their medical problem. Everyone knew Klingon medicine was a joke.

“Keep me informed,” said Andrea.

“Yes, ma’am.” A pause, and then, “May I speak with Garak for my spousal check-in, please?”

Starfleet did not offer spousal check-ins. Andrea started to think Bashir hadn’t forgotten anything, and there was a problem on the surface. “Of course,” she said. “One moment.”

At her nod, Connelly opened a channel to Bashir and Garak’s quarters. “Garak,” said Andrea. “Dr. Bashir commed for his spousal check-in.”

“Excellent.” Garak didn’t sound surprised in the least. He was a very good actor, Andrea decided – or she hoped that was the case here. “Are you there, Julian?”

“Yes. You’d like the temperature down here.”

“But not the menu, I’m sure.”

“No,” agreed Bashir, sounding amused. “I decided my next kotra move on the ride. It’ll give you something to think about, since I might be down here a while.”

“What is it?”

“Left flank advance center right.”

“An interesting choice,” said Garak.

“You always tell me kotra favors the bold. I look forward to your response.”

“You’ve given me few choices, my dear.”

“I know. Bashir out.”

A very puzzled Connelly reported, “Comm line closed.”

“What was that, Garak?” asked Andrea.

“A request for immediate transport.”

“If you’re wrong, we could start a diplomatic incident with offended Klingons.”

“I’m not wrong, Captain. Dr. Bashir invented a procedure to speak to me, did he not? Furthermore, we are not currently playing kotra, but the move he indicated is a trap he fell into the night before last.”

“A trap,” repeated Andrea. “I see. Lieutenant, beam up the away team.”

“Initiating transport,” said Connelly. “I have them. Transporter room two.”

Andrea tapped her combadge. “Scholz to Bashir. What the hell is going on?”

“It was a trap, Captain. They took our combadges and had a mek’leth to Tersan’s throat, so I had to get creative to avoid suspicion.”

“Is everyone alright?”

“Nothing worse than bruises. Something on this planet is unbalancing the Klingons’ mental state. The worst cases exhibit paranoia, and they decided the away team is part of a Federation plot to keep the Empire out of the Gamma Quadrant.”

“I want to see the entire away team in my ready room.”

“On our way.”

“And Doctor? Good thinking.”

[sanders-specs]

I’ll Be Home Chapter 4

Summary:  All Roman and Logan want to do is get home for Christmas. They'd been away from their boyfriends for months on separate jobs, and are looking forward to getting home. Neither one of them will let some blizzard get in their way, even though Patton and Virgil insist they stay put. The lengths they'll go to get home is great, even if it means facing mother nature at her worst.

A/N:  Okay so...I wanted to do a bit of experimenting with this and I think I just ended up confusing myself. Well, now I know, I guess. Sorry. I wanted to focus on getting one boy home at a time rather than going back and forth since Logan has a...more interesting time than Roman. Don’t really know how it worked from a storytelling standpoint, honestly. 

Warnings: Swearing, homesickness

Paring: LAMP

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 

Tag list: @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @dan-yuna @kryspytacos @tripleaaaqueer @helloisthisusernametaken @jordandobbertin @lilbeanblr @wtf-is-a-side @thepusheenqueen @pattongirl @justanotherpurplebutterfly

*IMPORTANT: This chapter takes place while Roman is still on the road. We're backing things up to follow Logan and see what he was up to. In the case of the story, this starts just after his phone cuts off in the first chapter (see above note for apology)*

Logan’s day was not going well.

He’d managed to get to the train just in time, which was a miracle in itself. When he got to his seat, he was disheartened to see that he was sharing a row with a bickering elderly couple. He’d squeezed passed them to get to his seat, ignoring their jabs of insults at him. Once he was settled, he pulled out his phone to turn it back on to let the others know he was okay...only for the phone to die immediately after. He sighed, then ruffled through his backpack for his phone charger, feeling the slightest bit of relief that there was a plug by his seat. Once he’d fished out the charger, he went to plug it in, only to freeze.

The prongs were wrong. They didn’t fit into the outlet. His charger had two, thin round prongs that were set wide apart, which would be fine if he were still in Italy.

Logan sighed, putting his head in his hands. He was an idiot. A complete goddamned idiot. He’d grabbed the wrong charger when he’d been packing. He vaguely remembered being half awake when he’d finished packing his things, having saved some things for the morning so his phone would’ve been fully charged when he left (fat good that had done him).

To be fair, he hadn’t touched his American charger nearly the entire time he’d been in Italy. He’d given his adapter to a tourist who had been freaking out about not having their own and bought a new charger for his own phone.

Now though…now he had a dead phone and the wrong charger.

He sits back with a sigh. He glanced over at the elderly couple, who were now very clearly ignoring each other. “Pardon me, but do you perchance have a phone I can borrow for a moment?” Logan asks kindly.

The woman next to him glared at him. “No! why would I have one of those devil devices?” she sneers at the phone in his hand. “You kids today relying on fake conversations to entertain yourselves…” she went on and on about the evils of cell phones.

Logan sat and took it, not having that much of a choice. It was only when the woman found something else to complain about that Logan was able to let out a breath. He sat back in his seat and turned to the window. It looked as if he wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone until he could get near a phone. He couldn’t help the sigh. They were going to be livid.

Oh well. There’s nothing that can be done about it now. After the lecture from the woman next to him, he didn’t feel very inclined to ask anyone else on the train. So he settled back, watching the as towns and fields went by.

Eventually, the excitement and stress of the day caught up with him, coupled with his jet lag. He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of when he’d be home again.

Logan blinked wearily, feeling that something was off. It took him a moment to realize that it was because they’d stopped moving. He sat up from where he’d been leaning against the window, rubbing his neck. Judging from the fact that most of the people in the car around him seemed to be asleep, it was the middle of the night. They seemed to be stopping for fuel, as outside was pitch black, silent.

“We’ll be stuck here for at least an hour,” a voice said next to him, making him jump. He looked over to see the elder woman, in the middle of doing a cross word. Beside her, her husband was fast asleep on her shoulder. “It takes those workers ages to fill up a tank as big as the one on this hunk of metal.”

“I would assume it takes a bit of fuel,” Logan says, not really paying attention to what he was saying, his mind still trying to catch up with the rest of him. He blinked, realizing that his glasses were gone. Franticly, he started searching for them, only for there to be a light tap on his shoulder.

He looked up at the women, squinting a little to see her properly. She held out his glasses. “It’s dangerous to fall asleep with those on, you know,” she says. “They could end up breaking.”

“It was not my intention to fall asleep,” Logan says.

The woman tsks. “As soon as you feel those eyes drooping you take them off!” she whisper-shouts. “Glasses are expensive and should be taken care of.”

As much as her nagging was kind of annoying, there was something a little familiar about it. She sounded very much like Logan’s own grandmother. “Yes, ma’am,” Logan responds with a nod.

She sits back with a huff. “Finally, some manners,” she mutters. She readjusts her own glasses and looks down at her puzzle book. “So,” she says. “Who’s Virgil?”

Logan blinked at that. The woman glanced at him and huffed, rolling her eyes. “You talk in your sleep,” she explains. “You kept muttering about Virgil.”

“Ah,” Logan says with a nod. He’d been told he was a…stressful sleep talker. “He’s my…someone special to me.”

She rolls her eyes again. “Just say boyfriend,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m not as close minded as some people from my generation, trust me.” She reaches for her purse, being careful not to wake her husband, and digs around it for a moment. She comes out with a picture, handing it to him. “My daughter, her two partners, and their kids. All big sweeties.”

Logan smiled a little at the picture. Three people, all with their arms around each other, and two children standing in front of them. they looked happy. He handed the picture back to the woman, who gave a small smile.

“We’re trying to go see them. I don’t know if we’ll make it in time for Christmas, though,” she says with a small sigh.

“I’m sure they will be pleased to see you no matter what day you arrive,” Logan says.

She offers a grateful smile to that. “I suppose all your photos are on that phone of yours,” she says, a slight bit of disdain in her voice.

“Actually…” Logan took out his wallet and brought out a small picture. It was from Logan’s birthday last year, before he’d left. His boyfriends had treated him to a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant.  They’d all gotten dressed up and went out and for once, everyone had behaved themselves. It was probably one of the nicest evenings Logan could remember having with them (though he did love their random adventures). In the picture they were sitting in a round booth, pressed together. Logan looked as if he were laughing, the others not bothering to hide their own grins. Logan couldn’t remember what they’d been laughing about, but he did remember and overwhelming sense of love for the three of them.

He liked to keep the picture as a reminder for when days were hard, when his phone wasn’t an option to bring out. Every time he looked at that picture, he felt a little bit better.

“They look like nice enough boys,” the woman says, handing the picture back to him.

Logan chuckled. “Yes, I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

The woman offered a tiny smile. “Something tells me you haven’t seen them in a long time.”

“It has been a while,” Logan admits.

The woman pats his knee. “Don’t worry, you’ll get back to them soon. Now, do you think you can help me come up with a four letter word that means love?”

Logan and the woman—Susan, he learned—sat there for hours doing crosswords. It wasn’t the worst way to spend his time. He quickly learned that Susan’s short temper explained what had happened earlier (though she stood by her opinion on phones). Eventually, though, she dozed off, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts.

He started thinking about what his next plan of action should be. According to the website he’d booked his ticket on, this train should take him directly to Richmond, with plenty of stops in between at other stations. It seemed that the progress of the train was also slowed down due to the snow, but it was much faster than a car, at least. Once they arrived in Richmond, Logan would have to figure out a way to contact Patton and Virgil (and hopefully Roman, if he was there). They didn’t live too far away from the city, so driving out there shouldn’t be too much (hopefully). Surely there was someone who would be willing to lend him their phone long enough for Logan to tell them where he was.

Perhaps he should see if there are any cars that happen to be selling chargers. It would be a bit of a stretch since he has a rather out of date phone, but it was worth a shot. It was better than doing nothing.

Glancing around at the silent car, he sighs. Well…he couldn’t do anything until morning anyway

Logan jerked awake at the sound of multiple voices raising at once. He sat, up, confused. When had he fallen asleep? His glasses were in his lap, so he put them back on, looking around confused.

He looked over at Susan, who had a deep scowl on her face. “What’s going on?”

She looks over at him. “Awake are you? You slept half the day away.”

Really? He really must have been exhausted.

Susan sat back with a scowl. “They say we’re stuck.”

“What?”

She motions to the window and Logan turns to the window and sees the problem. There was a good bit of snow covering the tracks. There was no way they’d be able to get through that until it was shoveled.

“Poor preparation on their part,” Susan spats. “Some of us have places to be!”

She wasn’t the only one who was upset. Everyone in the car seemed to be in distress. Logan felt his heart sink as he looked out at the snow bank. How would he ever get home now?

“Alright, everyone, listen up,” one of the attendants calls, silencing everyone. “We’ll be stuck here for at least a day. We’re about an hour from Richmond. Luckily, we’re right by a town. You’re welcome to go out and find lodging there, or stay here on the train. I’m real sorry about this, folks.”

An hour. He was an hour away from home, from finally being with his boyfriends again. Logan pressed his head against the seat in front of him.

“Now don’t you go giving up on yourself young man,” Susan says. “You get up, go into that town, and you find a way to contact your boys. Hearing them will renew your spirit.” She was nudging him, encouraging him to get up.

Sighing, Logan straightens. “You’re right.”

“Damn right I am,” she says. “Rob, move over so this young man can get out.”

Logan gave Rob a small, sympathetic smile, but he didn’t seem to mind. He took his backpack, if only for comfort than anything else. He followed a few people who were also leaving, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as his feet hit the snow.

Once in the town, he started walking around, looking for an electronics shop. If he could just find the right charger, he’d be able to go back to the train in no time and charge his phone there. He didn’t really want to bother other people, especially since most of them were bound to say no.  

The town was rather small, and the people who lived there didn’t seem to care about the snow or cold at all, considering that they were all walking around. Or maybe it was just people from the train. Logan didn’t know.

Ducking into the nearest convenience store, letting out a breath of relief as the heat hit him. He was slightly shocked at how empty some of the shelves were, then remembered that Christmas was the day after tomorrow, so of course people would have bought out nearly everything. He held out some semblance of hope that they would have the charger he needed, but it seemed they were fresh out. He even asked the clerk only to be told that they wouldn’t get a fresh shipment of anything until after Christmas.

Logan tried at least two more stores after that. The town wasn’t big enough to have a Walmart or target anywhere near it (that wasn’t at least an hours walk away), so it was all smaller stores. All of which, were either sold out or didn’t carry the charger.

At this point, Logan was okay with just buying a new phone all together, but it seemed they were all fresh out of those too.

Logan left the last store with a huff. He looked up and down the street, trying to think of what to do next. He supposed he could’ve asked the clerk if he could borrow a phone. He turned around to do just that when he heard a train whistle.

He froze, confused. Why would the train be blowing it’s whistle unless…

Logan’s hand shot out and stopped the first person who crossed his path. “Excuse me, are you from the train that’s stuck just outside of town?”

The man looked at him, confused. “They announced not too long ago for the passengers of that train to return. It seems they found a way to clear away the snow quicker.”

“No. No no no no no,” Logan took off. He ran towards the train, ignoring everyone else in his way. He made it just in time to see the caboose disappear into the distance.

For a moment, Logan just stood there. had that really just happened? He looked towards the plow truck, which was still pushing snow away from the train tracks, towards the forest beyond.

Running a shaking hand through his hair, Logan turns and walks back to the town.

Okay, Logan, think. You don’t have your suit case, so your clothes are all gone, but at least you have your backpack. That gives you at least another days worth of clothes, and you have your dead phone and wallet. Find some kind of inn and go from there. They’ll have a phone you can use.

Logan tried to stay optimistic. It wasn’t the end of the world. He could possibly find a hotel for the night and call the others, but he had to admit that he was running a slight bit low on money. Between presents, the flights, the train ticket, and food, his checking account was dipping.

“Mama, why does that man look sad?”

“Luna, don’t be rude.”

Logan looked up and over his shoulder, finding a little girl looking up at him with big green eyes. She was dressed in a purple parka and black snow boots. Her mother stood behind her, holding her hand.

“I’m sorry, she’s a very curious girl,” the mother says.

“It’s okay,” Logan says with a small smile. The mother and the girl turn to go, but Logan stops them before he can think about it. “Um, actually,” he says, making them both pause and look back at him. “Do you think I can borrow your phone for a moment to call my family? I was supposed to be on the train but..." his voice trailed off.

Something like sympathy crossed the mother’s face. “Sure,” she says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone. She pulls up the dial pad and hands it to Logan.

“Thank you so much,” Logan says, relief flooding him. He quickly puts in Roman’s number, wanting to make sure that he was okay first.

It rang for a moment or two before Roman answered. “Logan!” Logan smiled at Roman’s relieved voice. “What happened my love, are you okay?”

“Yes, Roman I’m fine,” Logan says gently. “I wished to check on you. I know neither of us are in quite ideal circumstances.”

There was a short pause. “That’s one way to put it,” Roman says with a sigh. “Anyway, I’m fine. We’ve got maybe another few hours to go, maybe more if the storm is as bad as it looks.”

“Yes I’m afraid I’m in the same boat,” Logan says with a sigh.

There was some yelling in the background that Logan didn’t quite understand, but Roman didn’t miss a beat in the conversation.  

“Have you talked with Patton and Virgil yet?” he asks.

“No, I knew that they would be safe at home,” Logan says. “With you on the road in this storm…I was worried.”

“Alright dork,” Roman says lovingly, “but we were worried about you. You never texted or called us after you told us your flight was canceled!”

“Y-yes I apologize,” Logan says with a small sigh. “Perhaps we should call the others.”

Once getting Patton and Virgil on the call, both of them just as frantic, Logan assured them all that he was fine. For some reason, he didn’t want to mention that he very well might be stuck an hour outside of Richmond for an undetermined amount of time. no, he wouldn’t worry them any more than they already were. He’d find a way to get home by tomorrow. He had to.

At one point he glanced over at the mother, who was now talking to another woman, her wife, Logan presumed, from the familiar way they touched and looked at each other. Also from how the little girl, Luna, called her ‘Mom.’ They did seem like they needed to get going.

“Someone was very willing to let me use their phone so I could contact all of you, however I must return their phone to them,” Logan says, getting ready to end the call.

“Lo, wait please,” Patton says, sounding distressed.

“Yes, love?” Logan asks, closing his eyes against Patton’s worry.

“Just…don’t…” Patton seemed to be struggling for words.

“Don’t do anything rash,” Roman says. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m the one telling you that.”

“We’d rather you be safe than hurt,” Virgil says. “If something goes wrong, just stay in a safe place until it’s okay to travel again okay? If you’re not far, we’ll come get ourselves.”

“I know, dears,” Logan says. “I promise, I will take care of myself. I still plan on seeing you all tomorrow, however.”

Someone sighs. Roman, probably. “I suppose we will have to trust you.”

“Yes, I think that is the best option.”

Someone else, probably Patton, whimpered. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t,” Logan says. “Now I must go. I love you all so much.”

They all replied with their own ‘I love you’s and Logan hangs up.

Letting out a breath, Logan turns to see the family staring at him. He offered a small smile. “Thank you very much for allowing me to use your phone.”

“Who were you talking to?” Luna asks.

“Luna Fae,” her mother says, “I told you not to be rude.”

“It’s okay,” Logan assures her. He smiles at Luna. “I was talking to my family.”

“Like, family family or married family?” Luna asks, as if this makes complete sense to her.

“Hmm married family sounds more correct,” he says. “Though, technically, we’re not married.”

Luna’s face lights up, like she hadn’t expected him to understand that. She starts bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Why did you tell them you were on a train when you’re not?” she asks.

“I didn’t say I was on a train.”

“You implied it.”

Well. Luna was smarter than she looked. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that,” Logan says, not really wanting to get in the lying-is-bad-but-sometimes-necessary conversation. He looks at her mothers. “Do you think you can point me to the nearest inn?”

“Yeah, we’ll walk you there. It’s on our way home anyway. I’m Kai, by the way,” the parent with dark brown eyes and a white beanie over their brown hair says.

“I’m Arlo.” She had hazel eyes and paler skin, short dyed red hair mostly covered by a blue beanie.

“Logan,” he says, shaking hands with both of them.

“And I’m Luna!” Luna declares.

Arlo looks lovingly down at her daughter. “Yes, you are,” she says. “Now come on, we’ve gotta show Logan to the hotel.”

“Okay!” Luna exclaims.

Logan follows them, Luna skipping along happily next to her mother, so much so that Logan was actually a little worried about her slipping.

“So, Logan,” Kai says, slowing to walk next to him. “What happened to your phone?”

“It died,” Logan says. “and I have the charger for the wrong country.”

Arlo looks back at him at that. “Country?”

“I’ve been teaching English in Italy for the past year,” Logan explains. “Things got mixed up after a while.”

Luna stops and looks over at him with wide eyes. “You’ve been to Italy?” she asks in a shocked tone. “Did they have really good spaghetti?”

Logan chuckles at that. “Yes, they do, though my favorite is their gelato.”

That, of course, had Luna asking what gelato was. Logan was patient, answering her questions as best he could. She was a curious girl, that was for sure, eager to learn about the world.

After a while, they stopped at what Logan assumed was the inn. He glances inside only to see that the lobby was full. It seems that Logan was not the only person left behind. On the hotel’s sign, there was a clear no vacancy sign lit up.

Logan feels his shoulders slump. Okay so…what now?

“Umm..” Arlo says, biting her lip. “Well this is a problem, isn’t it?”

Logan turns to smile at them. “It is my problem. Thank you for showing me the way here.”

“Well we’d hate to leave you stranded,” Kai says, frowning.  

“Mom, why doesn’t Logan come home with us? We have that other bedroom Aunti always sleeps in,” Luna says.

Arlo and Kai exchange a look, as if they’d both been thinking that too.

“I couldn’t ask to intrude on your home,” Logan says. “I’m sure I will find some solution.”

“Don’t be silly,” Arlo says. “We don’t mind. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve taken in someone who needed it. Come on.”

Logan gulped. He was well aware the risk these two were taking, inviting a strange man into their house, with their child, but neither of them seemed to be really giving Logan much of a choice. It didn’t look like Logan had any other option, either, save for sleeping in the snow.

Shoving his hands deeper in his pockets, Logan follows the family.

Chapter 5 

[hannahindie]

Museum of Death: Part 2

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (implied), Sam Winchester, Susan (ofc - brief) Word Count: 2,922 Warnings: Mention of a burnt corpse (which is just gross regardless of detail), a sassy reader (are you even surprised at this point?), and an adorable old lady named Susan. A/N: This is part two to my UNDERCOVER CHALLENGE FIC for @amanda-teaches. I love writing this, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have been.

A quick shout-out again to @wheresthekillswitch for brainstorming this with me and for the idea of using the undercover names that I chose. It wouldn’t be nearly as cool without you, my dear. :)

And to @pinknerdpanda for beta’ing this part for me!! Your encouragement and willingness to look over my words make my heart happy. Thanks, bean. :) “ *recoils in revulsion* Oh hannah! *Whispers* I love it”

As usual, tags are at the bottom! If you’d like to be added, please let me know.

Y/N looked up as the hotel room door swung open and Dean threw his suit coat over the back of one of the chairs.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I know you did it on purpose.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “No, I didn’t. Why does it matter, anyway? We still have to help these people, something is going on in that museum.”

“Whatever. Y/N, did you find anything?”

Y/N leaned back and crossed her arms, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “More than you did, sounds like.”

Dean leaned over and kissed the top of her head, “Are you going to be nice and tell us, or are you just going to be a tease?”

Y/N’s small smile turned into a wide grin, “Oh, you know I don’t tease. I go straight for the good stuff,” she said with a wink.

Sam groaned, “Please, stop. Just...don’t.” He sat down with a frown and Y/N laughed.

“Sorry, Sammy. But in all seriousness, I think I found something. I don’t know how much help it’s going to be, though.” She turned the laptop so that Sam and Dean could both see it. “So I started digging into the history of the museum, and what could have triggered the murder of the security guard and the curator. Up until recently, everything had been fine.”

“So it’s been all quiet on the western front? A museum full of murder memorabilia, and nothing?” Dean asked as he sat down next to Y/N.

Y/N shrugged, “Yea. It’s been oddly quiet considering the subject matter of this place. That was, until about six weeks ago. Dr. Elliot Lyons transferred here from a crime museum up north. It closed and there were plans on relocating, but the curator position at the Museum of Death had opened up, so he decided to part ways with his previous employer and moved here. That’s when things started happening.”

“I thought Dr. Lyons and Theodore were the only murders?” Sam asked as he leaned forward to get a better look at the news article Y/N had opened.

“They are...well...were. Until last night, they were the only ones. Before that, there had been reports of people being attacked, scratched, strangled, you name it, it was happening. The two deaths occurred, and the museum went quiet again for a few days. Last night, there was a temporary guard patrolling the museum, and this morning he was found strangled and crammed into a crawlspace in the basement.”

Dean whistled, “That’s a bad time. How’d they find him?”

Y/N wrinkled her nose, “Well, it was more of a...um...furnace than a crawlspace. They found out the hard way. I was trying to avoid saying it.”

Dean cleared his throat, “I regret asking.”

“So what was the trigger? It looks like it started when Lyons arrived, but why did it escalate?” Sam sat back and Y/N moved the computer closer to her so she could flip through the different tabs she had open.

“I hacked the museum’s database, and it looks like Lyons was working on a special exhibit. He'd been gathering pieces for weeks, but was very careful about who he let see them. I went to the museum and talked to his assistant, who barely knew what was going on either.” Y/N grinned and Sam cocked an eyebrow.

“But I’m assuming since you hacked into their system, you know what’s going on?” he said, trying to be patient but the frustration was evident on his face.

“Well,” she continued, “I started to get an idea when I realized what kind of exhibit he was building, but I wanted to make sure before I got too excited. I went to the police station to check out the previous claims of attacks and they confirmed my suspicions.”

“Well, are you going to tell us?” Dean asked grumpily, “Or are you just relishing the fact that you’re right?”

Y/N laughed, “I absolutely am doing that. Sam is always the one that gets to say ‘so get this’ and look smart. It’s my turn.” She turned the computer back to where Sam and Dean could both see it. “According to the police reports that were filed, all the attacks that happened were against men. Each person has a different story and they’ve given several descriptions of the attackers, but no women were hurt. Same general story each time; the men were walking through the museum when they were suddenly attacked. Some were beaten, some strangled, some of them had cuts. In all the cases, though, they're the only ones that saw their attacker.”

“So these guys got their asses handed to them and no one saw it?” Sam asked as he scrolled through the pictures in the police reports. “How can someone get this injured and no one see it?”

“I don’t know, it seems like the men had somehow gotten separated from whoever they’d come in with, and by the time the person found them, the attack had already happened. Some walked away mostly unscathed, but there were a couple of incidents where they had to be hospitalized. The ages ranged from fifteen to around forty.”

Dean sighed, “You said that you thought you had it figured out after what you found at the museum. How does any of this relate to that?”

Y/N’s smile widened even more, “Because the exhibit he was putting together was comprised entirely of serial killers whose prime focus were men and boys. The museum already had some displays and items related to that, of course, but he has some incredibly rare finds. I’m talking ‘he must have connections in a police department because this stuff is definitely evidence’ kind of stuff. Things that we haven’t even seen pictures of, much less the actual item. I’ll even go out on a limb and say some of this stuff didn’t even make it to court, and if it did, they definitely didn’t show it in the newspaper.” She switched over to the exhibit list and Sam took the computer back.

“How did he get his hands on some of this? I don’t even think some of this would have been taken as evidence, it’s like personal belongings and school records.”

Y/N shrugged, “I don’t know. But there’s a way for you to find out.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked with a frown.

Y/N tossed Dean a set of security credentials, “There just happens to be a security officer and curator position open, and since whatever this is is into dudes…” she trailed off and gestured vaguely at them. “Looks like you boys are going undercover,” she said with a grin.

Dean groaned, “Fantastic.”

Dean stomped down the sidewalk and fidgeted with his tie as they approached the entrance to the museum, “Why do I have to wear this stupid suit and you get to wear regular clothes?”

“Because you have to look like you’re working for a respectable security company, and I have to look like someone that’s got a doctorate and will fit the part of ‘eccentric curator’,” Sam said with a smile.

Dean groaned, “You’re eccentric, alright.” He stopped in front of the door and put a hand on Sam’s chest, “Listen up, and listen good. You keep it together in there. That museum is like some sort of weird wet dream for you, so I need you to keep your mind on the task at hand so we can get out of there as quickly as possible. I’d much rather spend my time in New Orleans on Bourbon Street than surrounded by true crime porn for nerds like you. You freakin’ owe me, dude.” Dean threw the door open and stormed in with Sam on his heels.

Sam managed to catch up to Dean and stopped in front of the main desk, “Hello, we’re here for the curator and security officer interviews. I’m Dr. Clay Miller, and this is Tom Hannigan.”

The frazzled lady sitting behind the desk looked up, her large eyes magnified further by thick glasses. “Oh, hello boys, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Susan Ellis.” She looked between the two large men and tilted her head, “Do you know each other?”

Dean smiled, “Yes, ma'am, we’re cousins. Good looks and great career choices run in the family.” He winked, and she looked down at her hands, her cheeks flushed.

“Oh, now, isn’t that nice? Well, I’ll be honest, the plan was to interview you two, but honestly we’re struggling. Since Dr. Lyons passed away,” she closed her eyes and made the sign of the cross, “it’s drawn even more visitors. I guess having serial attacks and murders have brought true crime buffs out of the woodwork. None of the temp agencies will send us replacement guards, and it’s just been a heck of a time. So, as of today, consider yourselves hired.”

Dean held out his hand, “Thank you, ma’am, we appreciate it. If you could just show me where the security office is, I’ll get started.”

She gingerly shook his outstretched hand, “Absolutely, dear.” She pointed at the hallway that stretched out to Sam’s right, “If you take that hallway, the curator’s office is the third door on the left.

Sam smiled, “Thank you.” He nodded at Dean, then strolled off towards the office.

Dean held out his arm as Susan moved around the desk, “Shall we?”

Susan smiled, “Absolutely, my dear.” She took Dean’s arm and they walked in the opposite direction than Sam went. “It truly is good timing that you two came in today. I’ve been getting volunteers, some of our regulars, but that’s not really ideal. They mostly just want free access to the exhibits.” She pulled a set of keys out of her pocket and flipped through them. “It’s just nice to have someone that actually makes it feel safe around here.” She fumbled the key into the lock and the door opened with a creak.

A bank of security monitors greeted Dean, their screens filled with blurry black and white images as people walked through the museum. One screen showed the parking lot, and another showed the back entrance.

“Susan, have you had time to go through the security footage from the other night?”

She shook her head, “No, I’ve been scrambling trying to get replacements and to try to keep this place open. The police took a copy of it, but otherwise I haven't seen it or heard if they found anything.”

Dean nodded, “Fair enough.” Susan started to leave the room and Dean cleared his throat, “Umm...do you know what he was working on? I've heard a few rumors...you know how it is.” He offered her a smile and she frowned.

“He wouldn't let anyone near it. I'm not sure what was so important, but he wanted to keep it a surprise. Dr. Lyons was a good man, but very strange. Hopefully Dr. Miller will be able to piece it together.”

“My cousin is pretty good at his job, I'm sure he will.” Susan smiled, then turned and left, shutting the door behind her. Dean pulled out his phone and began scrolling through footage as he waited for an answer.

“Hey, what's up?”

“I'm in the security office, looks like there's a ton of footage to go through. I'm going to hang in here for awhile before I take a walk around the building. You find anything yet?”

Sam sighed, “No, there are literally boxes upon boxes in here. The man may have catalogued everything meticulously, but his storage habits are nonexistent. I've got a lot to go through.”

Dean stopped the footage starting the morning before the murders, “Alright, well I'm going to look for stuff around the time of the murder. I'll probably go back to the dates of the physical attacks too. Let me know if you find anything.”

“Will do. See you later.” Sam hung up and Dean leaned forward and squinted at the monitor. It was going to be a long afternoon.

Sam sat back in his chair and sighed. Normally, he would love digging through what Lyons had managed to scrounge up; report cards, clothing, drawings that he’d only seen in documentaries. There were boxes upon boxes of things that should have been impossible to have. Sam wondered how much money he’d spent and if he’d gone to more unconventional means of acquiring it, but he’d been unable to find anything to confirm the suspicion. Regardless, none of the boxes held the answer he was looking for, and it appeared that Dr. Lyons, though strange and probably slightly sketchy in his ways of obtaining rare objects, was probably not the person that was causing the murders.

Sam ran a hand over his tired face, making a mental note to shave as soon as they got back to the hotel, then froze when his eyes fell on a rug that was in the center of the floor. He narrowed his eyes, his head tilted as he stared at the far corner of the fabric, its edge flipped up to reveal what looked like spray paint. He stood and walked slowly towards it, carefully navigating boxes and folders that he’d already gone through, and stopped just at the edge of the rug.

“What the hell?” he muttered as he kicked the rug back a little further. Most of it was still hidden, but there was definitely a symbol painted in nearly the same color as the floor. He moved the rest of the boxes that were pinning down the rug and pulled the entire thing back to reveal an unfamiliar symbol. It was hard to really tell what it looked like since the paint matched so closely to the floor, so he went back to the desk and scrounged a piece of paper and a pen, then came back and sketched it out. Even with it being clear, Sam had no idea what it was for. He pulled out his phone and dialed Y/N, who answered on the first ring.

“What’s up, Sam? Find anything?”

“Yea, I think so. I’m going to send you a picture of a symbol, can you help me find what it means? It feels vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“Sure thing, send it on over. I’ll call you when I have something.” She hung up, and Sam took a picture of his sketch and texted it to her.

As he waited for Y/N to respond, he called Dean as he stared down at the symbol.

“Find something?”

“Yea, I think so. I sent a picture of it to Y/N, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before. There was a symbol painted on the floor, and someone had covered it with a rug. I think you should probably come look at it.”

“Sure, be right there.” The line went dead and Sam put his phone back in his pocket. No matter how hard he thought, he just couldn’t place it. The door opened and Dean wandered in, his eyes wide at the sight of so many boxes.

“Dude, you weren’t kidding. He’s even more of a nerd than you.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Just look at the damn symbol.”

Dean smirked, but remained silent as he walked over to where Sam pointed. He walked slowly around the symbol, his brows furrowed as he tried to figure out where he’d seen it before. “I’m not sure. It does feel familiar, but I don’t know where I would have seen it.” He’d made it back to where Sam was standing when he tilted his head and knelt down. “Hmmm…”

“What?” Sam asked as he watched Dean trace his hand along the middle, near the crooks.

“Is this exactly like you found it? You didn’t drag anything across it?” Dean asked as he looked up at Sam.

Sam shook his head, “No. I mean, I moved some boxes, but I picked them up, I didn’t drag them...why?”

Before Dean could answer, Sam’s phone rang, “Hello?”

“Hey. I think I found something, and you aren’t going to like it.”

Sam put the phone on speaker so that Dean could hear, “When do I ever like it? What did you find?”

“That symbol…it’s a summoning sigil. Specifically for Adnachiel, also known as ‘the hunter demon’. I found it in an old book of Bobby’s.”

“That explains why it’s so familiar, I probably saw it researching. Any idea of how to stop it?”

“Well, first you’d have to find who’s controlling it. Whoever did it would have had to paint it in one stroke for it to be successful. There’s a reversal spell, but the sigil would have to be left unbroken. If it’s been broken, whoever summoned it will lose control, the demon will do what it does best, which is hunt, and it’s going to be way harder to stop. I’d assume since it was hidden, it’s probably good though, right?”

Dean groaned, “You’d think that...but I’ve got some bad news.”

Sam frowned, “What?”

Dean smacked the symbol where he’d run his hand over it a moment before, “Because someone must have dragged something over it and scraped the paint. The symbol is broken. Which means-”

“Which means it’s going to keep roaming the museum, killing people, until we stop it.” Sam muttered, his eyes locked on the sigil.

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