Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6657463.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/
      Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Original_Female_Character(s)
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, Lucifer_(Hallucination), Castiel,
      Caitlin_Smith_OFC, Charlie_Bradbury, Mrs._Davies_(OC)
  Additional Tags:
      kickass_OFC, PTSD, Flashbacks, Slow_Burn, Hurt/Comfort, canonical
      violence, canonical_character_deaths, Canon_Divergence, Past_Child_Abuse,
      Past_Sexual_Abuse, Past_Rape/Non-con, Past_Underage, Original_Character
      Death(s), visit_from_criminal_minds, Post-Hell, Nightmares, Somnophilia,
      Torturer_Dean, Torture, husband_says_slow_burn_so_slow_it's
      decomposition, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Beware_chapter_50, Read_the_note,
      Chapter_50_be_toxic, Can_easily_be_avoided
  Series:
      Part 1 of No_Traditional_Pain_'verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-04-25 Completed: 2017-05-01 Chapters: 64/64 Words: 123372
****** No Traditional Pain ******
by rainygalaxynerd
Summary
     Caitlin escaped the horror of her childhood home ten years ago and
     spent every moment of every day fighting to achieve not only her
     dream of becoming a doctor, but her need to feel safe. When she met
     something that didn't back down from traditional pain due to being
     incorporeal, she had to learn about this new world of hunters and
     monsters. Two broken brothers unwillingly accepted the task of
     teaching her.
Notes
     This story is also being posted on tumblr with the title 'Brave New
     World'. Since I began to post, I've realized that is a very common
     title, so I managed something slightly more creative. So far I have
     written twenty chapters and I'm not even halfway through the story I
     want to tell. I post every Monday, but until AO3 catches up with my
     tumblr, I'll be posting here more often.
     The story begins during season 7, shortly after 'Time after time'.
     Please feed my writer's need for attention and throw me a comment
     about what you like/dislike about the story.
***** Bartending Sucks *****
Sometimes Caitlin felt trapped in her daily routines. It wasn’t that she wasn’t
content with her life, it was just the same every day; she got up, went to
school, went to work. She endured the sleazy drunk retards hitting on her night
after night as she poured them drinks. The night it all changed started out as
no exception. She stood behind the bar, serving the usual patrons, and as
always, there were a few new faces too. One of them was a guy in his late
twenties with mischievous eyes and a striking smile. He tried to flirt when he
ordered a whiskey but she fended him off easily.
“I’m busy working,” she said to him, giving him a smile that didn’t reach her
eyes.
“Okey dokey,” he said, looking a bit like a lost puppy before strolling over to
the pool table. Caitlin smiled a little to herself. It was nice when a guy who
could actually take a hint. The evening wore on and she was getting tired. She
was also running low on tequila so she called out to her boss, Glenn, and went
out back, down the hall to the storage room.
One of the patrons, a skinny guy with a scraggly beard and eyes seemingly too
big for his face, dipped under the bridge to the bar and tried to follow her
without being seen, but the barkeeper called him out. Observing from the pool
table, the handsome guy relaxed visibly. Still, he kept a lookout through the
corner of his eye, used to being alert and aware of his surroundings. Thus he
witnessed ‘Skinny’ handing something to the barkeeper and entering the door
Caitlin had disappeared through.
Meanwhile Caitlin had finally found the box of tequila and had three bottles
clutched in her hands. As she turned around to go back, she froze, seeing an
unknown man standing in the doorway, leering at her.
“Can I help you, sir?” She asked as politely as she could muster, even if she
already felt certain what the man was after. The man simply smiled with an evil
sounding chuckle. Fine, whatever, she thought to herself. She threw two of the
bottles at him, and smashed the third against the wooden crate. The jackass
ducked as expected to avoid being hit by the two flying bottles and before he
could even look up again, she had the broken bottle pressed against his neck, a
droplet of blood collecting at a small puncture wound.
“I don’t appreciate your tone, asshole,” she told him, twisting his arm around
his back, ignoring the funny noises he made. “Now I’m going to show you the way
back to the bar room, and from there, you’ll find your own way home, got it?”
The jackass nodded and whimpered pitifully; as if she would ever feel sorry for
a creep like him. She pushed him out into the hallway.
Caitlin felt cold fear creep into her, as she stepped outside. Another stranger
stood there, and for a second she thought she was screwed. Then she recognized
the handsome guy that could take a hint. He was both tall and broad shouldered
and looked ready to fight; but his stance relaxed as soon as he saw her
manhandling her would-be assailant.
“Wow,” he said, “boy do I feel stupid for barging in here after that scumbag,
thinking you needed help.”
“Sorry, I don’t do damsel in distress,” Caitlin told him dryly, returning his
disarming smile cautiously.
“So I gather.” His face became serious. “People have noticed, though - your
colleague let that guy through for money, so he’d better have been counting on
you to manage on your own.”
“Glenn did WHAT?” She probably sounded more surprised than she was, but it
still hurt that the bastard had betrayed her like that.
“That guy tried to sneak in, this Glenn guy stopped him, so fine - but then
they talked, Glenn received some money, and let him through. I’m really just
telling you this, so you won’t be too surprised or angry when you see him in a
minute, but damn it to hell, if I was going to PAY to stop what I thought would
be going on..” The guy hung his head a little and looked kind of embarrassed.
Although Caitlin couldn’t remember the last time she had been this angry, this
guy was making her smile all the same.
“Thank you for at least proving to me, in my dark hour of despair, that not all
men are scum,” she half smiled as she pushed the jackass towards the door.
Ten minutes later Caitlin was out of a job. She had emptied out her rage and
frustration into Glenn’s face, calling him every name for scumbag in the
dictionary. Walking away, she felt empty. If she couldn’t find another job and
soon, she wouldn’t be able to pay her rent or her tuition fees. She had spent
the last ten years working hard to become a doctor. Saving up, passing the pre-
med courses, getting into medical school. She was scared of the future. This
was a major bump on the road she had mapped out for herself. It was, however,
greatly satisfactory to see the bruises and the swollen eye, her new ‘friend’
had supplied Glenn with. When she had finished yelling at the asshole, Mr.
Handsome was still there.
“Nice cursing,” he grinned at Caitlin, once again managing to make her smile in
spite of everything.
“I’ve got lot’s of practice.”
“Can I do anything for you? Give you a ride home, maybe?” He gave her a sincere
look of concern that melted directly through half of her defensive walls in an
instant.
Normally Caitlin would never get in a car with a stranger. Especially not
someone like this guy. He looked strong, with an aura of ’if you try to mess
with me, you brought it on yourself.’ The kind of aura she wished she could
surround herself with; then, maybe working as a bartender would suck less. She
knew it was a really bad idea, but she just wanted to go home, get some rest
and process the night’s events. She considered the stranger’s offer carefully
and decided to take a chance; to trust her skills to keep her out of trouble,
should anything arise.
“A ride would actually be nice, but not unless you tell me your name?” She
asked, mostly because calling him Mr. Handsome was getting ridiculous.
“I’m Dean Winchester.” He was standing closer than she felt comfortable with
and she took a couple of small steps backwards. Dean turned around and started
walking towards the parking lot. Caitlin ran to catch up with him.
“Caitlin Smith,” she finally managed. Dean simply smiled as he walked up to a
banged up old ford.
Dean opened the passenger door for her, his face pensive as he watched her
climb in, stiff and as far from Dean as she could get. Caitlin was already
regretting her decision to take Dean up on his offer. As he turned the key and
the engine rumbled to life, she nearly opened the door and bolted. Then the
music came on, Def Leppard’s Bringin’ On the Heartbreak, blaring through the
speakers.
“I love that song,” Caitlin smiled softly, feeling her body relax a little.
“Yeah? What else do you like?” Dean asked smiling back at her. Immediately she
tensed up again and it didn’t go unnoticed. Dean sighed. “Music, I mean. We’re
talking music, right?”
The drive ended up being surprisingly comfortable. Soon they were chatting
music and movies and cartoons. Caitlin gave Dean a false address close to her
real home and even felt a little guilty about it. He was just being nice and
she kicked herself mentally for lying to him, but she couldn’t ignore her set
of rules. The rules had kept her safe for ten years now. When Dean pulled up in
front of Caitlin’s fake home, they were having a heated discussion on who would
win, Wolverine or Iron Man. She had never felt so comfortable in a man’s
presence and it had nothing to do with his good looks and everything to do with
how he listened to her words and kept eye contact instead of leering at her
body. She thanked him sincerely for the ride before regretfully climbing out of
the car. Dean gave her a radiant smile and told her to take care. Then Caitlin
ran up to a ramshackle apartment building and went through the door, standing
ajar.
Dean sat in his car and watched her enter the building. He would have to find
another place and get a game of pool going. He and Sam were almost out of cash
and they hadn’t had time to fill out applications for new credit cards for the
last couple of months. They were officially broke. Still, he had beat up a
jackass and talked to a totally cool beautiful girl, so he wouldn’t consider
his evening so far completely wasted. He thought about Caitlin’s dark brown
eyes and serious expression. He knew just what song to play while looking for
another dump with pool tables. He grabbed his box with cassettes and started
digging, while he tried not to imagine what had happened to her, to make her
distrust everyone. Hell, he had just witnessed a very good reason for her to
feel that way.
***** The Elusive Van Morrison *****
Caitlin shut the door to her fake home behind her and waited to hear Dean drive
away. Nothing happened. ‘Great’ she thought to herself. ‘Now I’m stuck here
while he changes the music, takes a nap or whatever is taking him so long.’ The
main door creaked open and for a terrifying second, Caitlin thought that Dean
had followed her. When nothing else happened, she realized that the reason the
door had been ajar was because the locking mechanism was broken. She felt
thankful that this wasn’t a problem where she really lived. She started to take
in her surroundings and decided that this place had to be cheap. The lights in
the hallway kept buzzing and flickering and it was really cold with the wind
blowing in through the open door.
Suddenly something touched Caitlin’s hair, and she jumped forward with a small
scream. Turning her head, she wanted to scream louder, but her lungs seemed
empty. The man standing in the shabby lobby had a giant bullet hole in his
forehead. By no means should he be able to stand. His skin was greyish and the
blood around the wound dried up and black. Caitlin stood frozen, unable to
speak, to breathe, to move. ‘This cannot be real’ her mind was screaming. ‘You
must be going crazy’. If ghosts were real, this would be what they looked like.
Caitlin finally managed a gulp of air. ‘Ghosts can’t really hurt you, can
they?’ she thought. Shakily she asked her standard question.
“Can I help you, sir?” Her voice was broken and sounded like a little girls.
Sounded like the little girl she had once been, and the sound of her own voice
made her flinch. The man in front of her didn’t answer; he simply reached out
and grabbed her before she could move away from him. His touch was like ice and
his grip iron tight. Try as she might, she couldn’t twist herself free. She
stomped on his toes and elbowed him in the ribs, but neither his toes nor his
ribs were actually there. She tried for the door, attempting to drag the ghost
along, since he wouldn’t let her go. She managed a few steps; she could almost
touch the door, when it slammed shut. “Please, no,” Caitlin whimpered as she
felt cold enveloping her completely.
Dean searched the cassette box, growing irritated. The Van Morrison tape should
be in there but he had been through it three times now. ‘If Sam took it’, Dean
thought, ‘he better be ready for an epic prank battle’. Something made him
pause and look up. The door to Caitlin’s building had sprung open again, and
the lights in the lobby were flickering. Dean stared at them, hesitant to
investigate. It was probably nothing anyway, he told himself, and if she saw
him in there now she would have no choice but to think the worst of him.
Abruptly the door slammed shut, hard enough that an echoing boom could be heard
inside the car, and Dean was running around to the car’s trunk.
Caitlin couldn’t breathe, she could barely feel, yet somehow every nerve in her
body ached. She kept staring at the closed door, willing it to open, willing
the ghost to let her go. Willing herself not to remember, not to panic. As her
vision began to dim, the whole room getting impossibly darker, the door flew
open. She recognized Dean’s silhouette, a shotgun in his hands. Unthinkable as
it was, her fear spiked higher. Then he sidestepped to get a shot at the ghost
behind her. ‘Not going to work,’ she thought sadly, her last shreds of
consciousness slipping away. The report of a gunshot sounded far away to her,
she was falling through nothingness. Then she hit the floor and inhaled sweet
musty air in huge gulps.
She saw Dean reaching out towards her, and found the strength to scramble into
a sitting position.
“I’m fine,” she croaked, still breathing hard. She didn’t miss the hurt look on
his face nor his concern. He took a tentative step away from her.
“Okay, but we need to get out of here fast.” Dean wasn’t looking at her anymore
but constantly scanning the room, holding his shotgun ready.
“What… What the hell is going on?” Caitlin asked weakly between mouthfuls of
air.
“That motherfucker’ll be back soon”, Dean said, not bothering to explain
further. “We’ve got to bail, hon”. He urged her towards the open door and she
stumbled to her feet. Mindful of Dean’s presence behind her, she tumbled
towards the cool night air. As she reached the threshold, the door slammed shut
in front of her. The ghost was back, though not for long; Dean shot it and it
vanished again. Caitlin wondered how he could hit it when she hadn’t been able
to touch it. Dean reached out in front of her and she flinched away from him;
he ignored her and tried the handle, effortlessly opening the door. He didn’t
have to tell her to run, and soon they were back in the car.
***** The Truth is out there *****
Turning the ignition, Dean revved the engine and sped away on screeching tires.
Caitlin’s thoughts were tumultuous to say the least. She chanced a look at
Dean. He had saved her; shown up at the last possible moment with a shotgun no
less, and he had managed to hurt a ghost that couldn’t be touched. She knew she
should be thanking him, but there were too many questions to ask. Dean caught
her staring at him.
“You okay?” he asked gruffly.
“I guess,” Caitlin replied. She figured it was a matter of definitions, really.
She may not have any broken bones but some things were not okay. Not okay at
all. Dean surprised her by chuckling to himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said with a crooked smile, “you’ll hate me for saying this, but
you actually do damsel in distress very well.” Caitlin felt her cheeks redden
at his shameless joke, not sure if she should punch him or laugh with him. To
her own surprise, she settled for crying.
“Whoa whoa” Dean said as he pulled over and stopped the car. Ironically, they
were now parked no more than 200 ft from Caitlin’s real home. “Jesus, girl, I
was beginning to think you were made of ice”. Dean watched her hide her face
between her hands. He leaned in to push her hands away, to tell her that her
tears were nothing to be ashamed of. Caitlin sensed his hand before it reached
her and flinched away.
“Why did you bust in like that,” she asked him, not looking up.
“Don’t thank me or anything,” he grumbled. “I was changing the music when I
noticed lights flickering behind the door. In my line of work, that’s a bad
sign. I figured it was nothing until the door slammed, though. That’s when I
geared up and came running.”
Caitlin tried to collect herself. She hadn’t cried in front of anyone since her
escape ten years ago. His explanation was believable, she thought, trying to
let go of her habitual suspicion. She wasn’t ready to face what had been
happening when Dean rushed in, or what had happened after. Grasping for
something to distract herself, she held onto his words.
“Your line of work?” she asked him curiously.
“Hunting ghosts,” he replied with a cocky smile that made her giggle.
“Ha ha,” she said. “Really, what line of work?”
“Hunting ghosts. Among other things.” This time he didn’t smile and suddenly
Caitlin’s throat was too dry for her to even swallow; he wasn’t joking. That
either made him insane, or her incredibly naive.
“Tell me about it,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Dean asked her. “Once you go down the rabbit hole and swallow
the red pill we can’t just reinsert you into the matrix, Sugar.”
“I’m sure,” Caitlin said, and she was. She had thought herself a realist, and
the idea that the world was an even worse place than she knew didn’t appeal to
her. Not knowing about it if that was the case, however, was less appealing.
Dean considered her. He didn’t want to give another ‘bump in the night’-speech.
He didn’t want to upset this girl’s world; clearly she had enough on her plate
already. On the other hand, he knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore what had
happened. There was steel behind her eyes and he had no doubt that she would
find out somehow, now that she had decided she wanted to know. He sighed deeply
and began to explain.
“I’m a hunter, and not the kind that shoots Bambi. Me and my brother, we look
for news about strange, mysterious deaths, things that leave the cops
floundering. They don’t know what to look for if it’s not people killing
people. We do. We find the things that lurk in the darkness, the things only
few people alive know about, and we gank them. On good days, we even get to
save a few people’s sorry asses.”
Caitlin’s hairs on the back of her neck stood on end at the sound of his voice;
he sounded cool, detached, as if merely relaying a weather report.
“How do you know about all these things?” she asked, when he stopped talking.
That elicited a small laugh from him, but it was a cynical, broken sound.
“Dad drilled it into us. A demon killed our Mom when I was four. After that,
Dad was obsessed with revenge. He was a marine before. Shooting practice since
I was six, then all kinds of combat training. And lore. God I hate Latin. As
soon as we were old enough, we tagged along as Dad worked cases, stayed alone
in motel rooms, sometimes for weeks.” Dean met her eyes, with a guarded
expression, waiting for a reaction from her.
“That sounds pretty tough,” she said softly. She had learned a long time ago
not to compare her own story to others’, yet she really did think Dean’s
childhood sounded moderately awful; even by her standards.
“Sammy used to think so,” Dean smiled wryly. “I’d take it over a suburbian
nightmare any day.”
“It sounds like Sammy is the smart one,” she said jokingly. Dean’s spirit
seemed to dampen a little. “I mean..” Caitlin felt flustered. Of course she had
managed to offend him somehow. Why did she always put her foot in her mouth?
“Not like that, Dean. It’s just the normal thing to want, you know?”
“I guess.” He didn’t meet her eyes when he spoke again. “So how about you? Born
and bred suburbian queen or what?” Caitlin knew he was just trying to change
the subject but she wasn’t ready to talk about her own past; most likely she
never would be. She cast around for something else to say.
“So what is out there, Mulder?” she asked, ignoring his question completely.
Dean barked a laugh.
“It’s a lot easier to start with what isn’t. Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny
aren’t real. Neither is Bigfoot. Apart from them, pretty much everything you’ve
ever heard about and lots of things you haven’t, prowl the night.”
“So ghosts and .. demons?” Dean nodded at her, urging her to continue.
“Vampires?” she asked. He nodded again, grinning.
“They don’t sparkle, and you have to behead them; the stake in the heart thing
doesn’t work.” The glint of mischief was back in his eyes. He looked carefree.
Caitlin really believed him, when he said he didn’t regret growing up the way
he did. She had a feeling he loved his work.
“Werewolves?” She tried. Dean’s grin faded a little.
“Yeah. Sometimes they don’t even know it, you know. You have to kill someone to
protect innocent lives, but in a way they’re as innocent themselves. I fucking
hate werewolves. There’s all sorts of werecreatures. Skinwalkers,
shapeshifters, you name it.”
Caitlin felt dizzy. That was a lot of monsters out there. How had she avoided
this part of the world so far?
***** Push and Shove *****
Dean was enjoying the conversation more than he should. Caitlin wasn’t freaking
out, she was asking interesting questions, she was listening. He realized they
had been parked and talking for almost half an hour.
“Listen, Sugar, I’d love to keep talking to you but I was on a mission tonight
and if I don’t succeed, me and Sam don’t eat tomorrow. You can bunk in my room
since I won’t be needing it, and we’ll take care of your ventilated friend back
there tomorrow. Sound good?” Dean smiled at her to take the sting out of his
words. He remembered Cas a few months ago, proclaiming his ‘people skills’
‘rusty’. The thought shot a pang of sorrow through him; he missed his angel
friend. Caitlin watched him warily before nodding her consent. He steered the
car towards the abandoned building where he and Sam were squatting this week.
Caitlin tried to keep her breathing even. She was in a car with practically a
stranger, on her way to an unknown destination. She was breaking pretty much
all the rules she had made to keep herself safe. Rule number one: Don’t trust
anyone. Rule number two: Don’t tell anyone anything real about yourself. Rule
number three: Don’t go into a confined space if you don’t have a plan. Right
now she either had to tell him she had lied about her address or suffer his
reluctant hospitality. With the things he had told her so far, perhaps it was
time to change the rules anyway. From now on, rule number one should be: Don’t
get killed, mauled, eaten, taken or turned by monsters. She rocked lightly in
her seat. How the hell was she going to make it out alive if she ever ran into
something like that again?
“Sorry for being slow on the uptake, but you and your brother fight monsters?”
“Yeah, we do. No health insurance, and only hell to pay.”
“Teach me how.” Caitlin knew she couldn’t make demands of him but she tried
anyway. She had a feeling he wouldn’t like her request; that it would take a
lot of persuasion on her part, and cajoling wasn’t in her nature anymore. Dean
took his eyes off the road to regard her for a moment.
“Absolutely not.” His voice was flat and his eyes hard.
“Why not?” She was more curious than angry, but matched his tone anyway. He
sighed deeply.
“Because it ends bloody and sad.”
“You’re still alive.”
“If I’m the one to teach you, I’m the one who ultimately failed you when it
ends.”
“Fuck you, Dean. It’ll be because of my own choices, not yours.”
“Enough, Caitlin. I can’t do it, okay? I can’t lose anyone ever again or I’ll
fucking eat a bullet.” ‘And Sam will do something incredibly stupid to bring me
back anyway,’ he continued in his mind.
Caitlin didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to reconcile Dean’s previous
words with his apparent embrace of his life as a hunter.
“Dean I.. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you feel that way, okay? But how can you be
totally okay with living this way yourself and feel this way about anyone else
doing the things you do?”
Dean slammed the brakes and the car skidded to a halt. People were honking and
driving around, making crude gestures at them.
“I’m still alive, ain’t I?” He looked at her with so much bitterness, regret
and grief in his eyes that she had to look away. “I’m the one who has to burn
the bodies and bury the ashes. Don’t fucking psychoanalyze me.”
“But Dean..”
“-No buts. Things are fine when it’s just Sammy and me. I won’t give you the
chance to screw that over. You’re going home tomorrow when it’s safe and that’s
final.” The anger rolled off him in waves, but it wasn’t directed at her, not
really. The anger was just never far from the surface these days; not after
Bobby.
Caitlin considered him, as he got back into traffic; or rather as he stopped
obstructing traffic. His knuckles were white on the wheel and he stared blankly
ahead. She knew how it felt to sometimes be pushed backwards, to be reminded of
things usually buried deep inside, to feel ready to snap or break into a
thousand pieces. She had never seen anyone like that unless she stared at
herself in the mirror on such a day, but she recognized it in Dean now. She
couldn’t push him further, she really shouldn’t. And yet this was about her
life, her survival chances, not his; even if he tried to make it so.
“You don’t really know anything about me, Dean,” she said softly. “My life
isn’t exactly roses and strawberries to begin with. I get it, you’re trying to
protect me, you want me safe. But if there’s one thing I know, it is that I’m
the only one who can keep me safe. I’m not asking you to teach me to fight, I
can do that already. I’m asking you to tell me how; how did you hit that ghost
when I couldn’t touch it? If the world is full of monsters, I need to know how
to defend myself against them.”
Dean kept driving, refused to acknowledge that she had spoken. He knew Sam was
going to take her side and it only made him more angry. When he drove around
the back of the shabby, abandoned house, Caitlin looked horrified.
“I told you there was only hell to pay. We don’t get paid. We travel. Usually
we stay in motels but sometimes we house sit lonely houses.” Dean couldn’t help
the shit eating grin spreading on his face. “If the accommodations isn’t to
your liking, I can take you to a five-star hotel instead, Princess. As long as
you pay the bill yourself.” Caitlin resigned herself to a restless night with
barely an audible sigh.
“There’s not even a bed in your room, is there?”
“Only blankets and a sleeping bag, but it’s free.”
“I’ll take it,” she said and walked towards the rear entrance of the run-down
house.
***** In the Screaming Night *****
Dean showed her the bathroom and the water bottles so she could flush the
toilet, even though the house was without water and power. Then he took her to
a room, a bundle of blankets tossed in a corner.
“I’ll just let Sam know you’re here, then I’m heading out. Sleep tight,” he
said quietly. Caitlin nodded and began to arrange the blankets to her liking.
She didn’t expect to be able to fall asleep, but she knew she must rest as best
she could.
As she crawled into the sleeping bag, her nostrils were assaulted by the smell
of Dean. Out of the mix she discerned whiskey, leather, and gunpowder. Smelling
whiskey while lying down did nothing to help her keep her memories of the past
locked away. It didn’t help either that her throat was sore after the ghost had
cut off her air. She had been helpless in the ghost’s grasp, helpless and dying
and she had felt so much like back when.. She shook her head, and tried to take
a deep steadying breath. Gunpowder. That reminded her of countless hours spent
at the local gun range, learning to handle small firearms. Now she needed to
learn how to use shotguns and rifles too. Another deep breath and she simply
sensed all the smells together, let them just be the smell of Dean. It was a
very masculine smell and for reasons she wasn’t prepared to think too hard
about right now, somehow it made her feel safe. She drifted off and managed a
few hours of uneasy sleep.
It was still completely dark outside when Caitlin started awake, her blood
running cold. Somewhere in the house someone was screaming like they were being
tortured. She stumbled blindly towards the sound of screaming; she would
probably end up face to face with some kind of monster. Something she wouldn’t
know how to deal with, and it would kill her and that other person, but she
couldn’t ignore it or run away. No one should die alone.
She stopped dead in her tracks as her eyes fell at the source of the screaming;
a man lying in a similar pile of blankets to hers. He was obviously fast
asleep, yet he was screaming, pleading and crying. Caitlin knew nightmares. She
had plenty herself, but she had never seen terror like this. Pity winning out
on her self preservation instinct, she tried to wake the dreamer, guessing he
must be Dean’s brother, Sam.
“Sam,” she called, “Sam, wake up. Sam you’re dreaming. Sam, it’s okay.” When he
didn’t react to her voice at all, she took a deep breath and moved closer to
him. She grabbed his feet inside the sleeping bag, figuring it would be safer
than touching him somewhere on his torso. She shook him as hard as she could.
Sam woke up fighting; Lucifer had been sitting on his chest, carving designs
into his face. Suddenly nothing was holding him down and he was ready to punch
the devil. Lucifer followed him around like a lost pup most of the time these
days, and Sam knew he couldn’t touch him, couldn’t hurt him, because Lucifer
wasn’t really there. Coming awake so abruptly left that tiny detail out for a
few moments, however. There was only the light of the streetlamps and the moon
in his room, and he saw a figure standing at his feet.
He was still somewhat tied down, he noticed, but he could get up if he wanted
to. Of course he wanted to and, his hand closing on the knife under his head,
he scrambled to his feet. The figure backed away from him quickly, soon trapped
in a corner of his room.
“I’m out,” said Sam, advancing on Caitlin. “I’m out, and you can’t make me come
back. I’m not gonna let you.”
“You’re dreaming,” she stammered. “Please Sam, it’s just a dream.”
Oh did Sam know that song. ‘You’re still here with us, it was all just an
illusion. Aren’t you happy to be back?’ He let his free hand close around her
throat and held her against the wall, knife at the ready.
Caitlin didn’t dare fight him, certain that doing so would only result in a
stab wound. She was terrified, sure, for the second time this night, that her
life was about to end. At least it would end quickly, she comforted herself,
looking into the madness in Sam’s eyes. He had cut off her air supply and gave
her no more chances to reason with him. She waited for the darkness and loss of
consciousness. At least now she didn’t have to worry about getting another job.
Sam knew something wasn’t right. Why didn’t the demon fight back? Why was she
just letting him choke her, tears rolling silently down her face? Something
scratched in the back of his mind; Dean telling him something earlier. ‘Sam,
hey, didn’t get my hands on anything yet, but I grabbed us a case. This girl’s
apartment is haunted, so I’m letting her stay in my room. Don’t freak out on
her, okay?’ Realizing he was killing some poor girl with a haunted home, Sam
let go of Caitlin.
She fell into a crumpled heap on the floor, not gasping for air as she should
be. The sour stench of urine hit his nostrils. Feeling a different kind of
panic, a real panic, edge into his mind, Sam straightened her out and pushed
her chest lightly. When nothing happened, he pinched her nose and blew air
through her mouth. At the second blow of air her eyes flew open, and even
though she shouldn’t have had the strength to move at all yet, she was flailing
and pushing herself away from Sam. Sensing her distress, he took a couple of
steps backwards.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, unaware that he was crying too. “I thought you were..
I didn’t mean to.. Oh God I’m so sorry.” Next to him, Lucifer was laughing.
“Nice work Sam. Now she’ll live to hate you and think you’re a freak; she’ll
make sure you never forget that.” Sam pressed his hand hard, until the pain
made Lucifer pale and fade away. He couldn’t help a scream of frustration
before dropping to his knees, burying his head in his hands.
***** Fallout *****
Dean entered the house feeling elevated. He had finally gotten lucky and was
bringing home enough cash to last them a couple of weeks. When he looked in to
check on Caitlin and found the corner empty, something clenched in his gut;
then he heard Sam’s anguished scream and ran. Caitlin was lying on the floor in
Sam’s room, barely conscious. Sam was kneeling at the other side of the room,
his hands pressed against his eyes as if all he wanted to do was to vanish into
nothingness this very moment. Torn between the two, he forced himself to act
calm.
“Hey, what happened?” he asked, moving first towards his brother. He clamped a
firm hand on Sam’s shoulder. His brother barely reacted, his whole body
shaking. “Sam?” When he still didn’t get a reaction, he moved on to Caitlin,
dropping to his haunches next to her.
“Caitlin, are you okay?” Dean already knew better than to try to touch her,
even if the tears streaming down her face made him want to hug her until they
let up.
“What it is with me and getting strangled tonight?” she whispered hoarsely.
Dean felt his stomach drop, felt his throat dry out. He looked at Sam
incredulously and his disbelief turned to worry for his brother. Sam looked
more broken than ever, like all the fight for normalcy or just functionality
had gone out of him. He looked like he had given up and wanted it all to be
over.
“What happened,” Dean whispered, but no one answered. He had no idea how to fix
either his brother or his charge, but there was no one else to do anything; he
had to try.
First he hauled Sam back to his sleeping corner and made him lie down. He spent
a moment cradling Sam’s head in his hands, stroking his hair.
“It’ll be fine little brother. We’ll figure it out. Hang on till morning, get
some rest, you hear?” He mindlessly hummed the chorus of ‘Hey Jude,’ feeling
Sam’s tense muscles relax a little at the familiar tune and gesture. Then he
turned back to Caitlin, who was trying to sit up against the wall; so far
without luck. He got down on hands and knees as he went to her, knowing he
would be intimidating to her even like that.
“Caitlin, take it easy. I’m going to carry you back to the other room and we’ll
talk. You’re still weak from oxygen deprivation, so relax and let me help you.
I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” Her eyes were blown wide but she gave him a
tiny nod, so he gathered her into his arms, careful to hold her as loosely as
he could without risking her falling. As her head fell to his shoulder, she
inhaled deeply and closed her eyes with a small sigh. Walking through the
hallway, he noticed the wet stain in her pants. Once again he wondered what had
happened; he had already seen Caitlin hit the floor once this night and she had
still been tough as nails afterwards.
He gently laid her down in the blankets and covered her up to keep her warm. He
rummaged through his duffel and handed her a clean pair of boxer briefs.
“You okay to get changed on your own?” he asked. He had to clench his right
hand tight enough that it hurt, not to reach out and push her dark curls away
from her face. She nodded once, and he stood outside and listened to the
rustling of fabric. He re-entered with a knock when it turned quiet and moved
to sit against the opposite wall from where she lay.
When time passed without her saying anything and her eyes were still on him, he
decided to start.
“Sammy’s been through a lot. He’s not usually.. I’m still getting used to this.
He’s never done anything like this before.” He stopped, not sure what else to
say. He stayed quiet for some time before Caitlin spoke in a hoarse, rasping
voice.
“He had a nightmare. He was screaming and pleading for something to stop. I
knew it could be dangerous to wake him but I had to try. I always wish someone
would..” Caitlin trailed off. Dean felt sick. Sam shouldn’t be dreaming about
hell; he felt another wave of grief and anger towards Cas. Caitlin shouldn’t be
waking up alone from her nightmares either. Dean wished there was a way to
fight these things physically. He wanted to kill Sam’s hallucinations and
Caitlin’s fear, preferably with his fists.
“Do you want to leave?” Dean managed to ask her in the end. “I can pay for a
motel room now.”
“It’s okay.” Caitlin felt the throbbing pain in her throat worsen. She couldn’t
believe she was still alive. Couldn’t believe that after all that had happened,
she was wearing Dean’s underwear, and he had not tried anything with her. Poor
Sam, she thought, he had been so scared, so lost in his own nightmare. She
thought he had killed her, but then she had woken up, throat on fire and lungs
freezing. All she had known in that moment was a man’s lips on hers, and that
she couldn’t scream, couldn’t move. He had scrambled away from her, he had
apologized, had seemed so broken; he had screamed in such agony that she felt
her own pain lessen in comparison. “I think he was as scared as I was,” Caitlin
told Dean.
Then she was shaking and the tears returned as she buried her head in the
blankets. She inhaled Dean’s scent and remembered that same smell grounding her
earlier, when his hands held her as something precious as he carried her back
to this room. Right now he was keeping his distance, as he had so quickly
learned that she preferred. She wondered if he would hold her again if she
asked him to; if he would stop when she couldn’t stand it any longer. The image
of him holding her for a little while helped her calm down and soon the shaking
subsided. She then sensed that Dean was fidgeting, his knee bouncing up and
down.
“Go on, Dean. I’ll be fine. Check on Sam.” Caitlin gave him a brave smile and
burrowed into the blankets, willing her body to relax.
Dean shot her a thankful look before leaving, taking her wet clothes with him
to soak them in the bathtub. He sighed at the sight of their dwindling supply
of bottled water; he hated living so primitively. After wringing and hanging
Caitlin’s clothes up to dry, he finally went to Sam’s room.
Sam still lay where Dean had left him, fighting visions of Lucifer and his own
fear and guilt. As his brother approached, Sam braced himself for the scolding
he expected. He wouldn’t even be surprised if this ended up in one of the few
times Dean would be angry enough to punch him. Sam was resigned to suck
anything up Dean might throw at him; he deserved it all and more.
“You okay, Sammy?” Dean’s voice was gruff with concern, not anger.
“Of course not,” Sam responded. “Dean, I lost it again. I shouldn’t be hunting;
I shouldn’t even be alive.”
“You had never seen her before. You were startled awake from a nightmare. I
shouldn’t have left her alone with you; it’s my fault.”
“No, it isn’t. You didn’t try to kill her. You didn’t squeeze her throat until
she stopped breathing. You didn’t have to.. to.. breathe her back to life.”
“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean muttered, not realizing until this moment how bad it had
been. Sam had fallen silent again, his fists clenching and unclenching. Dean
gathered him up in one of his rare hugs. “It’s still gonna be okay, I promise,”
he whispered.
“How can it be? Dean, she must be terrified of me. She must hate me so much.”
Sam leaned into the hug but didn’t really have the strength to return it. Dean
smiled into Sam’s shoulder.
“I think you’ll find that Caitlin isn’t your average girl. She already
understands, Sammy. She doesn’t know what happened to you, but she
understands.”
The morning was closing in on them. Dean wanted to get them all breakfast but
wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to leave Sam and Caitlin alone again. In the
end, Sam solved the problem by offering to go. Dean really didn’t like that
idea either but Sam kept insisting that he could do it, that he wanted to.
Between the lines, Dean could read the addon; ‘if you don’t think I can, you
might as well lock me up right away. Maybe you should.’ Sam looking at him like
that, didn’t leave him any choice but to let him go. He felt that he probably
should lock him up instead, make sure he couldn’t end up hurting someone again,
when the hallucinations got the best of him. Logically that really was what he
should do, but Dean couldn’t. Dick Roman was untouchable and if Sam wasn’t a
part of ‘Operation Kill Dick,’ then Dean was done. All done.
Dean woke Caitlin up without entering the room, throwing her almost dry pants
in there without looking. He briefly wondered when he’d have time to get some
much needed sleep himself, as he waited outside. She emerged from the room
looking drained and befuddled.
“Breakfast in just a bit,” he told her gruffly, then cringed at the sight of
the bluish purple hand shaped mark around her throat. “How are you feeling,” he
added more softly.
“Like I spent the night getting almost killed a couple of times,” she said with
a wry smile, her voice still a bit hoarse. “Is Sam okay?”
Dean couldn’t really look at her, because no, Sammy wasn’t okay; besides, his
vision was all blurry again, dammit.
“Yeah,” he muttered, staring at nothing out the window. “He’ll be back any
minute with grub for all of us.”
Sam came back with a redundancy of food and coffee, offering it up to Caitlin
without a word; unable to even meet her eyes, staring instead at the purple
bruises around her neck. She took one of his large hands and held it between
her own.
“Please don’t be scared of me,” she told him. “I’ll try not to be scared of
you.” Sam’s eyes traveled up to hers slowly, meeting her gaze reluctantly.
“How can you say that after what I did to you?” he asked. Caitlin looked down
at their hands.
“Let’s just say that our roles could have been reversed and leave it at that,
please.” In spite of everything, that had Sam chuckling. The thought of this
lithe girl getting close to killing him seemed absurd; he could tell by the
look in her eyes though, that she wasn’t kidding.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, a hint of steel in her voice. “You’re
probably right, but I could have broken your nose or something.” Her flat
statement had Sam retreating a step backwards.
“Come on guys, EAT,” Dean said, easily breaking the tension. They ate stood at
the kitchen counter, as there was no other furniture.
***** Exhaust *****
Dean filled Sam in on the ghost in Caitlin’s apartment. Meanwhile, Caitlin
fidgeted with her cup of coffee and tried to think of a way to tell the two
brothers that it wasn’t really her home.
“I’m thinking we find out about the building’s history first and try to
identify the ghost,” Sam was saying, when she put her coffee down.
“I need to tell you something,” she said. “Don’t get mad at me.” She turned her
head pleadingly to Dean. He frowned and kept still, waiting. “I don’t really
live in that building. I just told you I did because it was close and the door
was open. I have these rules, no one can know where I live; I never get into
cars with strangers either, but last night I… I’m sorry.” Dean’s entire body
seemed taut like a wire, his face looked like a thundercloud ready to burst,
but he kept silent. The tension became almost unbearable to Caitlin. “Please,
Dean, I didn’t want to lie to you, but.. “ She never finished her sentence
because Dean turned where he stood and left the room. Moments later the front
door slammed shut behind him. Sam and Caitlin waited for the roar of the car
engine, but it never came.
“He just went for a walk,” Sam said quietly. He pitied his brother, knowing
that he was walking a trip down blame lane; but it had been Sam who had nearly
killed Caitlin. The silence stretched.
“You don’t know anything about the building then?” Sam finally asked her.
“Just that the front door was ajar when we passed it. Apparently the locking
mechanism was broken.” She thought it over for a moment. “What kind of
knowledge would be helpful?” Sam quirked an eyebrow at her. She held his gaze,
swallowing hard.
“You want to learn about hunting?” he asked her.
“I almost got killed by a ghost last night. I need to be able to defend
myself.”
“Have you talked to Dean about that notion?” Sam asked her, watching her
reaction intently. This time she raised her eyebrow and smiled wryly.
“He sure wasn’t keen on it. It’s not his decision, though. I’ll find out on my
own if I have to. But I have a feeling I’ll be better off learning from you
guys.” She crossed her arms and shivered a bit.
“I agree,” Sam said softly. “I’ll talk to Dean.”
Sam couldn’t believe she was still even here after what happened in the night,
let alone talking to him as if everything was completely normal. As if he was
completely normal. However, it was good that she wanted to learn; after all,
the odds were that once you knew what was out there, it would find you.
“That’s right, Sammy,” Lucifer laughed from his place in the doorway. “She’s as
good as dead already. She’ll look so pretty, bleeding and begging for mercy
while you try to save her.” Sam flinched and pressed his hand hard.
Dean walked back towards the house, still not ready to face his brother and
Caitlin. He had gone off without his jacket and he was shivering; mostly from
the cold. If he hadn’t looked for that tape last night, Caitlin might have made
it out of the building before the ghost appeared. She wouldn’t have known about
monsters, Sam wouldn’t have nearly killed her. If they taught her more, she’d
be in harm’s way until the life caught up with her and it would all be his
fault; just like it would be his fault if all this put too much strain on Sam,
if this place between reality and insanity he’d found faltered and failed now.
Poor Sam, as if he wasn’t thoroughly in the bell jar already. He missed Sam in
a weird way. He had just gotten the real Sam back, goddammit! The
straightjacket version of Sam was better than the soulless one; at least he
didn’t have to deal with part of Sam being in hell, but he missed his little
brother. He wanted for Sam to be happy, for crying out loud, not this. It
shouldn’t be like this; and now Caitlin, his little charity case, was smack in
the middle of their mess. Dean sighed and covered his eyes with one hand before
entering the house.
He found Sam and Caitlin waiting for him impatiently.
“Dude, you ran off without your phone but with the car keys. And you say I’m
mental,” Sam said, the scolding lacking any real bite. Dean shrugged.
“I guess it’s negotiable.” He turned his back to Sam so he wouldn’t have to see
his brother’s surprise at his lack of comeback. Maybe he wasn’t exactly
certifiable himself, but he was tired. His whole body felt like lead and all he
wanted to do was sleep for a month.
“Dean?” He faced Sam slowly, looking for an excuse not to. “Did you sleep at
all last night?”
“‘m fine, Sammy,” he said, turning around again to look for his jacket.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. A hand too small to be Sam’s. He spun to look
at Caitlin. Except for when he carried her from Sam’s room last night, this was
the first time they had touched at all.
“You’re not,” she said softly, letting her hand fall to her side. “I know you
didn’t sleep last night. Go get some rest, Sam and I can go to the library
ourselves.” She smiled a crooked little smile and made a ‘scoot’ motion with
her hands. Dean drew in a deep breath, anger already burning hot inside him.
“You, Sweetheart, are not going to the library. You’re not putting me to sleep
here so you can go learn all about…” Dean trailed off as she backed away from
him, her eyes wide open and her breath coming in short gasps. She hit the
kitchen counter and looked like she wanted to climb across it to get away from
him. He saw Sam reaching out to her and held up his hand to stop him. Sam
froze, his confused gaze rapidly shifting from Dean to Caitlin and back.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked her as her breathing slowed a bit. He knew she could
handle his anger; she hadn’t backed down in the car last night, but something
had obviously distressed her. She took a final, deep breath, closed her eyes
for a moment, and glared daggers at him.
“Don’t call me sweetheart, Dean. Ever.” Caitlin looked as if she was daring him
to try again. He stared at her in disbelief.
“Seriously? You freak out for no reason and I can’t use my favorite nickname
for pretty, smart girls anymore? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dean crossed
his arms and glared back at her, waiting for an answer. Caitlin was unphased.
“Just go lie down. Mope all you want to, but remember to get some sleep.” She
strode past him, snagging the car keys from his hand. He turned his head to
watch her slender figure walk through the door.
“Close up, bro, you’ll catch flies,” Sam stated as he followed her a few
seconds later. Dean blinked a couple of times before he yelled after his
brother:
“Don’t let her drive.” It wasn’t until a few minutes later he remembered that
the keys Caitlin had taken from him were just for ‘POS of the week’ and not his
Baby. He groaned as he threw himself down in his room and took a deep breath.
Something smelled of coconut and flowers. He sniffed his sleeping bag and ended
up burrowing his nose into it as his eyes fell shut.
Caitlin threw the keys to Sam as they entered the driveway. As they got in the
car, Sam dissolved in laughter. Caitlin regarded him inquisitively.
“I haven’t seen Dean thrown off his game that way since high school,” Sam
grinned.
“I guess he doesn’t get out of his comfort zone very often,” Caitlin scoffed.
Sam’s smile disappeared, his mind wandering to the harsh reality of his and
Dean’s life.
“Maybe,” he finally conceded. “But I think you fail to realize just how
extensive Dean’s comfort zone is.” He gave Caitlin a meaningful stare. “You do
realize he’s been hunting monsters since he was a teenager?” Sam turned the key
in the ignition and put the car in reverse. Caitlin didn’t say anything,
watching the run down houses in the neighborhood as they sped past them.
They were halfway to the library before she spoke again.
“He seems so angry all the time.” She was still staring out the window,
seemingly lost in thought. Sam thought about it; he had to admit she was right.
But why wouldn’t Dean be angry, he thought. Cas, Bobby, Sam’s own state. That
was all within the last six months. Thinking further back certainly didn’t help
things.
“He is angry all the time. He has reason enough to be.” Sam took his cue from
Caitlin and didn’t look at her as he spoke. She seemed to consider him, but to
his great relief, she didn’t say anything else. Sam steered with his left thigh
while he pressed the scar in his hand, to shut Lucifer’s jabbering up. The
guilt trip over what he had done to Caitlin didn’t need any help from the
prince of darkness to keep his throat tight and his stomach churning.
***** Research is not for the Weak *****
The library
Nina prided herself in how many of the students regularly visiting the library
she could name. She had been working as a librarian for almost twenty years. As
a young woman walked through the front doors, Nina recognized her as Caitlin
and smiled. That girl had been a regular for nearly half the time she had
worked here, always studying; always alone. Not today though, she realized.
Caitlin was accompanied by a tall, broad shouldered man. Nina had often thought
it a bit strange and sad that such an obviously intelligent and beautiful young
girl never seemed to have any friends, and her first thought was ‘oh how
wonderful for her.’ Then she took in Caitlin’s appearance: Her rumpled, slept-
in clothing and unkempt hair. The deep blue lines under her eyes and.. Nina’s
hands flew to her mouth in horror; the deep blue and purple bruises of a giant
hand around Caitlin’s throat. Her eyes flew from the bruises to the man next to
her, as her own hands began to shake. She was barely able to return the
friendly wave Caitlin threw her way, before heading towards the study hall.
Unsure of what to do, Nina went to the bathroom and called the police.
Sam pulled out his laptop and soon they were poring over entries in the local
news concerning the neighborhood of the haunted building and Sam was telling
her all about ghosts. How they came into existence, things that usually limited
them, things that could hurt them temporarily, and how to get rid of them
permanently. When nothing showed up on the building, Sam showed her how to
access police reports and they searched for missing persons in the area. They
had just found a possible match, a man that had disappeared without a trace
from one of the apartments in the building eight years ago, when Sam spotted a
police officer walking through the doors to the library.
“Uhm, I need to go to the bathroom,” he hurriedly told Caitlin before he
extricated himself from his chair and walked away as inconspicuously as he
could. She thought it odd for a moment, until she too saw the officer, making a
beeline for the study hall. She remembered Dean’s words the night before: “Only
hell to pay.” It figured that the brothers would be wanted for something. The
question was who she could trust. Sliding a hand across her sore neck, she
remembered the ghost and knew where she’d put her money.
Sam hid in the bathroom for a few minutes, cursing the fact that he wasn’t
wearing his suit. Even after the leviathans made them infamous, donning a suit
and flashing an FBI-badge was enough to keep law enforcers from thinking about
the Winchester brothers. After all, they were dead, right? But here he was,
wearing his usual plaid shirt, in dire need of a shave and a shower. It was too
soon to take the chance and think no one would remember. Sam didn’t want to
think about how many questions him showing up alive now would raise. He
carefully peeked out and saw the officer talking to Caitlin.
The abandoned house
Dean woke after just a few minutes of sleep; something that happened to him
more and more often. His mind assaulted him with images of the night before,
vividly creating pictures of what he hadn’t been there to see. As he sat up and
wiped the sweat from his face, he realized that he had left Sam alone with a
woman he had almost killed. That Sam had been so wrapped up in cage memories
that he had hurt an innocent bystander. He hurriedly left in pursuit of a ‘new’
vehicle. It was time for them to switch transportation anyway.
He reached the library in time to see a police car parked outside, an officer
going through the front door. ‘Dammit,’ he swore under his breath. He waited
outside, leaning nonchalantly against a light post, until the officer walked
from the front desk and further into the library. Then he entered, slowly
working his way in the same direction the officer had wandered off to. Perched
between rows of bookshelves, he saw his brother carefully exiting the bathrooms
and come to stand opposite from Dean. Both of them hidden from plain sight and
within earshot, Dean tried to calm himself down a little. It was just one
officer, after all. It had probably nothing to do with them. He waited and
listened.
“Listen, Officer Windle, I appreciate your concern for my well being, but I’m
perfectly fine.”
“And the man that came in here with you? Where is he?”
“What man? I came here alone.” Caitlin didn’t blink as she spoke the lie.
“The caller said you came in here with a tall man, Miss.”
“A guy might have entered the same time as me. It’s a public building after
all.”
“I’m going to be frank with you,” Officer Windle began. “You look like shit,
Miss. And you look like someone strangled you halfway to death recently. I
don’t know why you’re protecting the asshole, but I’m not letting him have
another go. Where is he?” His voice rose slightly with the question, as if his
patience was wearing thin. Caitlin moved to stand up next to Windle.
“This?” she said, pointing to the bruises, “this was consensual. I’m just kinky
like that. Now leave me alone.”
From their hiding places the brothers recognized her tone of voice. She sounded
the way she had, when she had told Dean not to call her sweetheart. They both
sincerely hoped that the guy would do as she said. But Officer Windle was a
good man; he wasn’t anything but thorough. Cynical too.
“Consensual? Fine,” he spat. “Then let me talk to the guy to whom you gave your
consent.” Caitlin’s answering smile was bone chilling.
“Let me save you some time, Officer. Instead of sending you on a wild goose
chase after my boyfriend, let me tell you something; and please do not take
this the wrong way, because it may be a bit of a shocker, but,” Caitlin grabbed
Windle’s hand and stepped behind him in a flurry of motion, pushing him against
the table until his face touched its surface, his hand caught behind his back,
“if I don’t give my consent to something, it doesn’t happen.” She let go of him
and stepped back.
Dean held his breath, half expecting the man to arrest her for assaulting an
officer on duty. Thankfully Windle simply stood up to regard Caitlin a little
wide eyed.
“I suppose,” he finally said. “I apologize for interrupting your studies,
Miss.” She gave him a curt nod and sat back down as if nothing had happened.
The brothers watched the officer talk shortly to the elderly woman at the front
desk before finally leaving the library.
When all was clear, the boys made their way to Caitlin.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Dean whisper-yelled at her. “He could have
arrested you!”
Caitlin barely showed any surprise at his presence.
“What the hell are you doing awake?” she asked him, mimicking his indignant
tone. Her quirky eyebrows and steady gaze had Dean bristling. Sam tried to head
off what promised to be a spectacular argument.
“Thank you for not telling on me, Caitlin. And really nice job on it too,” he
said with a big smile, shooting Dean a warning glance. With a heroic effort,
Dean managed to calm down a little.
“Yeah, you were uh pretty smooth,” he finally managed.
“Thank you.” said Caitlin magnanimously. “I’ll just print this and we can get
going. I believe there’s a dead body waiting to be found.”
She couldn’t help feeling smug at Dean’s pained expression. Obviously he wasn’t
a fan of her usual stoic self. Too bad, she wasn’t about to let go of what held
her together at times when she wasn’t about to die horribly. As she walked to
the printer, she stopped for a moment to talk to the librarian up front.
“Hey,” she started with a small smile. “I wanted to thank you for calling the
police, even though I’m perfectly fine. It was kind of you.” Caitlin reached
out to take the older woman’s hand, a gesture similar to the one she had used
with Sam that same morning. “Promise me you’ll do it again. If something
doesn’t seem right, you call. It’s better to unknowingly inconvenience someone,
than not saving someone that could have been saved.” The librarian clasped her
other hand over Caitlin’s and smiled.
“Thank you,” she simply said.
***** Trust Issues *****
As Caitlin went towards the car she and Sam had arrived in, Dean stopped her.
“That’s yesterdays model, Swee.. Sugar. This way ‘round, if you please.”
Caitlin smiled softly at his self correction. Sam groaned, guessing from Dean’s
behavior that he had stolen another baby-clone to impress their charge. He was
right.
“Inconspicuous, huh?” Sam scolded when Dean led them to an old blue mustang,
looking way too shiny for its purpose.
“It’ll get dirty soon enough,” Dean said. “She was looking so lonely, all the
way back in an auto shop's yard. And there was a goddamn sign on the door
proclaiming it closed until further notice. She’ll be good to us.”
Sam snorted and Caitlin was caught between indignation and amusement at the
gender specific personification of a car..
“You steal cars?”
“Only because someone thinks it’s unwise to drive my Baby, after making #2 on
FBI’s most wanted list,” Dean pouted. Realizing how that might sound, he
continued hurriedly: “Forget about a reward, we’re officially dead now.”
Caitlin frowned.
“You know you have to tell me how that happened now, don’t you?” They all
climbed in, Sam riding shotgun as usual and Caitlin in the back.
“Easy,” Dean said with an air of casualness as he started the car.
“Shapeshifting monsters went on a killing spree looking like us.”
Caitlin wasn’t sure how to react to Dean’s explanation, as he sped through the
city, headed for the haunted building.
“Uhm, does that happen often?” she ended up asking, wondering if she had put
her money on the wrong horse when officer Windle showed up.
“It’s only the second time,” Dean grinned. “But then there was the time when a
demon chick rode Sammy for a week, and...”
“Dean, shut up!” Sam was gripping his knees tightly and his brother stopped
smiling.
“Sorry Sam, I know that sucked.” Dean managed to look genuinely bashful.
“I’m starting to see why you’re so worried about me,” she managed weakly. ‘What
have I gotten myself into?’ she wondered to herself. The FBI most wanted
comment had sparked a memory; Caitlin didn’t usually watch the news, but there
had been something going on a few months ago, that had everyone on campus
gossiping. Serial killers. Winchesters. She fought hard to keep her breathing
relatively normal.
They passed the haunted building to park at a nearby grocery store. Turning the
key, Dean looked at Caitlin in the rear view mirror.
“You should go home and freshen up a bit. I don’t think we need someone calling
the police again, while we look for a dead body.”
“Right,” she said, relief evident in her voice. “I’ll just run home and meet
you guys back here.” Caitlin opened the door. “DON’T follow me,” she cautioned
them, as she slid out of the car and jogged across the road.
“She’s more paranoid than Frank,” Dean muttered.
“No one is more paranoid than Frank,” Sam countered. “But she’s up there
alright. Minus the part where she trusts us.”
Dean snorted.
“Does she now, Sammy? I don’t know, man.”
“What do you mean?” Sam scrunched up his face, for once not following his
brother’s thoughts.
“You saw her freak out this morning, didn’t you? You know, she didn’t even let
me help her up after that ghost nearly choked the life out of her. Something’s
not right with her, Sam.”
“I’m not sure I follow? What’s your point?”
“I think we should follow her.” Dean yanked the keys from the ignition, and
opened the door. “You coming?” Sam followed suit with a sigh.
It wasn’t easy to follow Caitlin. She wasn’t taking the straight route home and
even if she didn’t think she was being followed, she still checked behind her
now and again. Thankfully, they had tailed enough possible monsters and victims
to keep up without being seen, even as she kept them on their toes.
“Dean, why are we doing this? You don’t think she’s a monster, do you?” Sam
asked. He was trying hard to ignore Lucifer, who waited around every corner to
say: “Boo, she’ll see you.”
Dean seemed to consider it as he peered around a corner, quickly retracting his
head as he saw Caitlin fifty yards ahead, crossing the street.
“No, I guess not. But, dude, she’s weird.”
“You’re weird. I’m weird. What’s wrong with weird?” Sam suddenly had an
epiphany. “This is about her not being interested in fucking you, isn’t it? Or
maybe it’s about her manhandling a policeman? Or is it about her telling you
what to do?”
“NO! Shuddup, Sammy.”
Sam grabbed hold of his brother and yanked him backwards.
“Let’s just go back to the car.”
Dean shook himself loose.
“No,” he said, jogging towards the corner where he saw Caitlin turn right. “I
wanna know what’s up with her, Sam. She’s not gonna tell us.”
“Because it’s none of our business.” Sam stopped and Dean ignored him,
continuing on his path. “Dean, I’m going back.” His brother threw him a
dismissive wave as he rounded the corner. Sam returned and found a cafe close
to the car.
Dean stayed hot on Caitlin’s trail until she entered a building. He entered
silently after a few minutes, carefully examining the names of the inhabitants
of each apartment. He paused shortly at ‘C. Smith’ before knocking on the door
across the hall. An elderly lady opened the door carefully ajar, a chain lock
still in place preventing the door from being opened further.
“I’m sorry,” Dean said apologetically, “I was wondering if you knew the woman
living across the hall? I was supposed to meet her, but she’s not answering her
door or her phone. Maybe you’ve seen her today?” The woman gave him a
suspicious glare.
“She never has visitors. Go away before I call the police,” she simply said
before closing and locking her door. Dean sighed. So much for a little friendly
chat with Caitlin’s neighbor to try to unearth what it was she wasn’t telling
them herself.
He tried to think of anything else he could do without being found out, now
that he was here. Nothing came to mind that wouldn’t risk making her distrust
him forever. But wasn’t that a good thing? If that happened, she would leave
him and Sam and the supernatural well alone. She would be safe. His hands
shaking a little, he drew out his set of lock picks.
Caitlin went through her usual criss-crossing route without noticing anything
off. Entering her apartment, she immediately pulled out her laptop and searched
‘Winchester killings’. Her blood ran cold at the headlines it conjured. The
body count neared thirty people, the footage was gruesome; and she could spot
no difference between the men on her screen and the men she had spent the last
day with. Only, she was alone and unharmed and according to the news, these men
had been dead for months.
Reluctantly she tried another search: shapeshifter, and pressed the wiki-link
out of habit. Skipping over the modern tales, she read about how common it
actually was for people in old days to believe in beings able to transform
their appearance at will, as well as all the other possibilities listed. Maybe
Dean and Sam had been reading too much stuff like this. Or maybe they had it
right: If there was a myth, there was a truth. She wrote ‘Supernatural’ in the
search bar, but all the results were about some book series. ‘Monsters’ she
tried. Movies and Dungeons and Dragons resources. She blew a stray lock of hair
from her face. This was going to be difficult on her own.
She tried one last time: ‘supernatural creatures’. Then she sighed deeply;
there was no way she would ever find out on her own which creatures existed,
how to recognize them, and how to kill them. She found clean clothes and got
into the shower, while she mentally tried to prepare herself to go back to the
twilight zone. Instead memories washed over her as she stood under the spray of
warm water, memories swallowed her up and tore her apart. She sank to the floor
and curled in on herself, her tears mixing with water.
Oblivious to how long she was lost in the past, she finally managed to make
herself think about the escape. Of standing, freezing at the side of the road,
frantically trying to determine the gender of the drivers early enough to
either hide or hitch. Of Sarah, the woman who became her savior. Sarah was just
going home after grocery shopping but she drove Caitlin four towns over and
gave her three hundred dollars. She said goodbye to her outside the bus
station; said it was better if she didn’t know where Caitlin went from there.
When Caitlin came back to the present, the spray from the shower hit her as
hard and cold as the rain had, when she had gotten off that bus, alone,
terrified and relieved in equal measure, sixteen years old and only a hundred
dollars to her name; a name she had left behind to become invisible, to become
Ms. Smith. Caitlin’s teeth chattered and her body was shivering violently but
she was too exhausted to get up and turn off the spray. Images from the last
twenty four hours flashed before her eyes, and she couldn’t shut them down.
Loud gasps and sobs clawed their way from her chest and out her mouth, as she
lay shaking in the ice cold water.
***** The Heat of the Moment *****
Dean had waited in her hallway as she went into the bathroom. He had spent some
time exploring, looking through her stuff. He had realized that she was a
student, and had a pretty good idea what she was studying. He figured that
meant she was wicked smart like Sam. She had no photos of friends or family, no
childhood trophies, nothing that spoke of a life before she had moved into this
apartment and dedicated herself to an academic goal.
Everything was spotless clean and meticulously in order. He had a feeling that
even if he left before she came out from her bath, she would guess someone had
been there, though he didn’t really touch anything. He hadn’t meant to snoop
too much, just give her a scare to make sure she’d stay away from them, but she
was in the shower forever. Out of habit, he began to search for a diary. His
fingers brushed across a book cover under her bed, and he pulled it out, hands
shaking slightly. It was a photo album with idyllic family photos. He
recognized Caitlin, baby, toddler, first day of school with her dark hair in
adorable pigtails and a bright smile shining through decades, making his gut
clench. Because somehow he knew that she hadn’t smiled like that for a very
long time. He turned back a few pages and realized there was a gap. There she
was, three or so, and there she was, rucksack held proudly, smile sparkling. He
glanced at the remaining pictures; her father was missing from every single one
of them. Dean sighed, wondering if the man had skipped out on his family or
died. Only a few more pages remained; the last picture was of a tombstone.
‘Lillian Stevenson, beloved wife and mother, 1962-1993 Mark Stevenson, beloved
husband and father, 1960-1988’
Dean was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Caitlin had been an
orphan since she was around seven, when he heard her in the bathroom; his eyes
went wide at the sound of her broken sobs. The sound was as hopeless as the
damned souls on the racks in hell, and he did what he could to banish those
memories and the nausea that always accompanied them.
He shoved the album back, and ran to knock at the door, everything else
forgotten but Caitlin’s well being.
“Hey, kid, you okay?” he asked, not sure what would happen. Silence wasn’t on
his list, everything gone still the second he spoke.
“Caitlin, if you don’t tell me you’re okay, I’ll be bustin’ down the door in
ten seconds,” he said, bracing himself. When she still didn’t answer, he tried
the door and found it unlocked. She was lying in the shower, and the room
wasn’t steamy as expected but ice cold. Her eyes were open but glazed over. For
a terrifying second he thought she was dead, until he saw her chest heaving in
time with her quickened and shallow breaths. He put his hand under the spray
and cursed, turning it off. He found a towel, dragged her out of the water and
wrapped her in it.
Dean carried Caitlin to her bed, her body hanging limp in his arms the whole
way, unlike the night before when she leaned her head against his shoulder. He
piled all the blankets he could find on top of her before stripping to his
boxers and climbing under there too. He didn’t care how violated this would
make her feel; she was hypothermic and if she didn’t get warm soon, she could
die or suffer brain damage. As his arms pulled her flush against his body, she
stiffened, her eyes finally coming to life, if only to look at him in utter
horror.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he told her soothingly, “I’m helping you get warm
again. I’m just gonna stay with you, just like this, until you get better. You
gotta trust me.”
Caitlin couldn’t really think or feel anything after the initial shock of Dean
bursting into her bathroom. When she registered a male body, warm and naked
next to hers, her bathroom and Dean was long forgotten. She had no memory of
where she was and she waited for the inevitable, until he spoke softly. She
inhaled his scent, listened to his words, and let the darkness of dreamless
sleep wash over her.
When consciousness reared its ugly head next, she was shivering so bad, she
thought she might fall out of her bed. That’s when she noticed the arm slung
around her waist, holding her down; she panicked.
“Please,” she heard a gravelly voice next to her say, “don’t castrate me or
anything, but I’m not letting you go yet. You need to get warm, kid.”
She felt his warmth seeping into her side, and slowly turned her head to face
him. Dean. While his hand didn’t allow her to move, it wasn’t moving either.
She realized that, while she was unclothed, a thin cotton sheet was wrapped
around her.
“You wanna talk about why you were trying to drown yourself in your shower?”
Dean asked her, when she didn’t promptly kick him in the nuts. Caitlin drew in
a ragged, shaking breath, her teeth chattering as she shook her head.
“That’s not what happened,” she stuttered angrily. Dean raised an eyebrow,
indicating she should go on. She lowered her eyes, catching the curve of his
shoulder and bicep and a glimpse of his black boxer briefs. Feeling her cheeks
burn hotly, she met his eyes again.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’ve known you for less than twenty four hours and you’ve nearly died three
times. How the hell did you live to turn twenty?”
“Without help,” she ground out and noticed the hurt flash in his eyes before he
hid it. “I didn’t mean that I‘ve been fine because I hadn’t met you,” she
sighed, breath shaky from her full-body shivering. “I mean I had no one, and I
had to manage on my own.”
Caitlin clamped her mouth shut and tried to stop the rattling sound of her
teeth.
“Sorry,” Dean said. “Can I.. Can I hug you a bit tighter, I think you’d get
warm faster if you’d let me.” His carefully casual tone made Caitlin snort.
“I’m also sure I’d get warm faster if you fucked me, but try anything and I
will castrate you.” Dean’s face split in an easy grin, the fine lines at his
eyes crinkling. It was so cheeky and innocent at the same time that Caitlin
couldn’t hold back a small smile herself. Tired of shivering, she even burrowed
herself a little closer to his heat.
Awakening for the third time, Caitlin’s mind was clear; her body was pleasantly
warm, and the man snoring lightly next to her had a hell of a lot to explain.
He mumbled sleepily when she crawled out from under his arm, the sheet kept
tight around her. She hurriedly found a new set of clothes and went to the
bathroom to change. She opened the door and gasped at the cold still emanating
from the room; she remembered remembering. She stood frozen on the doorstep,
unable to make herself continue. Time passed without her participation once
again, until behind her, Dean coughed to let his presence be known. Her body
tensed as she understood that she was trapped and she spun around to face him.
“Get out!” she told him, voice shaking with anger. Dean stared at her
incredulously, only to glance down at himself. She couldn’t care less this
moment that he was still only in his boxers. He had followed her, he had broken
into her home. He had entered her bathroom while she was showering, he had
slept next to her while she was naked. He had crossed so many lines that she
wished she could have just died in her shower instead of living through it.
“OUT!”
“Can I at least get my clo-”
“NO! You follow me, you break into MY home and now I have to find a new place
two weeks from the mid term and I don’t even have a JOB!” Caitlin said,
advancing in a predatory manner that had Dean backing up slowly. She reached
behind him and opened the door, and gave him a final push before slamming it in
his face.
Dean barely managed to move his head enough to avoid getting his nose broken.
He looked around him furtively and drew a relieved breath that he seemed to be
alone. That little adventure sure hadn’t gone as planned. He put his hands
softly on the door, regretting the fact that his phone was behind it as well.
Not that Sammy wouldn’t let him suffer unnecessarily long before bringing him a
new set of clothes anyway. He had just turned to start his walk of shame,
intending to knock on doors until someone agreed to lend him a phone, when the
door behind him opened and his clothes were thrust upon him. Caitlin slammed
the door again and he was thankful of the two ft distance between him and the
accursed thing this time.
Elsewhere in the building, a door opened and closed and he hurriedly began
dressing. He was barefoot and only halfway in his T-shirt when a mother and her
preschool daughter appeared on the stairs above him. He tried his best to
become one with the wall, but of course the girl had to ask.
“Mom, what’s that man doing?” The mother gave him a dirty grin.
“It looks to me as if he’s getting dressed, honey,” she told her daughter. Dean
didn’t know whether to smile flirtatiously or scowl, and stayed put by the wall
until they had passed. He heard the woman continue to laugh until the main door
closed behind them.
"Sonofabitch," he muttered to himself, feeling decidedly cranky.
***** Growing Cold *****
Caitlin counted to ten inside her head while she focused on breathing slowly.
She imagined her lungs as a cave that air was rushing through, ebbing and
flowing like a tide. It was a trick from her martial arts practice, meant to
ground her and let her emotions wash over her without affecting her judgment.
She got dressed, carefully wrapped a scarf around her neck to hide the bruises,
picked up Dean’s phone, some essentials for herself, and opened her front door.
He was leaning against the wall across the hall as if he didn’t have a care in
the world.
“Catch,” she said and threw his phone at him. At least his scramble to grab it
out of the air got rid of his superior attitude.
“Hey! Those aren’t free!”
“Does that matter when you steal everything you need?”
“If it didn’t, I couldn’t call myself the good guy anymore,” Dean grumbled,
turning to follow her down the stairs. Caitlin smiled to herself. In some sick
and twisted kind of way that actually made sense to her.
“So, you’re really going to insist on helping us gank this ghost?” he asked her
resignedly, as they exited the building.
“Yeah, I really am. But first you’re going to tell me something. Why?”
“Why what?” Dean’s confusion angered her, but she kept her face neutral.
“Why the fuck did you follow me home when I specifically told you not to?”
“Language, young lady,” Dean tried to tease her. Caitlin spun around to push
him against the brick wall next to them. Her anger, the murderous look in her
eyes, and her powerful grip all took him by surprise. He let her stare him
down, even as she was looking up at him. The bricks dug into his back
uncomfortably but he didn’t move.
“I’m sorry,” he finally managed. “I shouldn’t have. I just.. I was hoping it’d
piss you off enough to leave us alone, okay?” Caitlin frowned at him.
“Christ, you’re damaged!” she ground out as she let him go. “I’m not safe from
monsters if I can’t fight them, am I? I just want to learn how to protect
myself. How does that turn into me not being safe inside that big head of
yours?”
Dean carefully brushed himself off where he could reach, shifting away from the
wall.
“Because once you know, you can’t leave it alone. They won’t leave you alone.
Once you know, you’re a goddamned target!” he growled. Caitlin’s eyes narrowed.
“At least I won’t be a defenseless target,” she hissed, her breath fanning over
his face. She turned from him and started walking again, fast enough that Dean
had to run a couple of steps to catch up with her.
Sam sat in the café, enjoying the benefit of free wifi and did general research
while picking at his salad. It had been a couple of hours since Dean texted
him: ‘Yoko, stand down.’ which meant that something completely unexpected had
happened and would delay him considerably; and that Sam didn’t have to come
running to rescue his brother’s ass. Realistically, Sam knew it probably meant
a booty call; but all things considered, Sam found that hard to believe. It was
hard to enjoy the spare time suddenly on his hands as Lucifer wasted no time
telling him that Dean was actually in really big trouble. Lucifer went on and
on about how Dean didn’t want Sam’s help, didn’t trust him anymore. Pressing
the scar and focusing on the rather gruesome murders that had drawn them to
Seattle, Sam managed to distract himself for almost two hours. The worry for
his brother eventually kept overshadowing his train of thought on whether the
deaths were due to humans, Leviathans, or something else entirely.
Images of Dean hurt or captured or god forbid it dead kept assaulting Sam. He
hardly bothered pressing the palm of his hand at all, since it only lasted a
few minutes until Lucifer was back. Just as it was becoming unbearable, his
phone buzzed with another message.
“Will be a couple hours more until I can leave.” He breathed a huge sigh of
relief and went back to the case with renewed vigor. It was definitely not
Leviathans and it really didn’t match up to something even the sickest humans
would do. They needed to suit up and look at the evidence as soon as Caitlin’s
salt ’n burn had been taken care of.
He was noting the names of the investigating officers and the morgue the bodies
had been brought to, when the door to the café opened. He glanced up
reflexively and saw Dean, Caitlin right behind him. She was looking even worse
for wear than she had this morning. A scarf hid the bruises around her neck,
but she was pale as a sheet, had deep blue lines under her eyes matched by the
bluish tinge to her lips, and her eyes were red and swollen.
“What hap..” Sam caught himself speaking too loudly, trying to be heard over
Lucifer’s constant yammering. He felt the other patrons stare at them.
Flustered, he packed his laptop and got ready to leave.
“We’re just gonna get something to go, be with you in a sec,” Dean said to him.
Sam hated the pained expression on his brother’s face, as if Dean somehow knew
why he had spoken too loudly.
Leaving the place laden with food boxes, Caitlin almost couldn’t bring herself
to look at Sam. It was horrifying enough that Dean knew, had seen her so weak;
something she never let anyone get the chance to witness. Now Sam would get to
hear about it too.
Outside, Sam stopped and looked expectantly at the two of them.
“What happened?” he asked, tone normal this time. Dean looked at Caitlin, who
was staring at the ground in front of her. He was familiar with that stance,
hell, he was king of it himself, wasn’t he? Shameful. He had an outstanding
opportunity right now to help her out, make her feel a little better. All he
had to do was lie a little, omit a few truths. Nothing he hadn’t done before.
But it was less than fifteen minutes ago that she pushed him against a wall and
yelled at him. It was less than twenty five minutes ago that he stood almost
naked in a stairwell. Dean wasn’t really feeling particularly generous.
“It looks like Caitlin has a serious death wish, because I had to stop her from
dying. Again.”
Sam looked at the two of them in disbelief. Caitlin was obviously upset and
Dean wasn’t just trying to diffuse the situation with humor, he was being a
complete asshole. He reached out a hand towards Caitlin’s shoulder and watched
her flinch away; heard Lucifer laughing about it and mocking him. Caitlin
started to walk towards the car, eyes still on the ground in front of her. Sam
cut ahead of her and turned around, bending down to look her in the eyes.
“Caitlin,” he said softly, “Don’t mind my asshole brother. Are you okay?”
His movement had forced her to stop, and now she was staring at him, blinking
rapidly.
“Peachy,” she mumbled and walked around him. Sam glared at his older brother,
who might not be Dr. Phil on the best of days, but this was an all time low,
even for Dean.
Dean glared right back, mimicking a resounding ‘What?’ at Sam.
***** We're Professionals *****
“Okay, Sammy,” Dean said as they got back to the car. “Since you couldn’t find
the exact apartment the guy lived in, and the landlord that owned the building
back then is dead, we gotta suit up and clear the whole building.” Sam nodded
his assent.
“What is the plan exactly?” Caitlin asked. Dean deliberately let his gaze
wander across the ramshackle buildings and the graffiti.
“I think the easiest way to get people out is to warn a raid on a possible meth
lab.” He opened the trunk and threw a bag at Sam before grabbing his own.
“See you in a bit, Sw... “ Dean didn’t bother replacing the abandoned
endearment, and simply walked away with a scowl on his face.
Something prickled behind Caitlin’s eyelids as she watched them walk away. She
turned away from them and focused on what she was about to do. She was
voluntarily going back inside a building where she could have died last night.
She was knowingly returning to a place where she was very likely to be attacked
again; and she was doing so with two men for backup, who were officially dead
serial killers. Shapeshifting monsters considered, that was besides the point,
of course. The fact that one of them was almost definitely certifiable and the
other a total douchebag wasn’t.
Her hands curled into tight fists as she thought about Dean. Last night he had
been a gentleman through and through, except for the argument in the car. But
today… She couldn’t find words to describe his actions today. Following her
home, breaking into her apartment while she was in the shower, snooping around
in her things, intruding in her only safe haven uninvited. Saving her from
herself, carrying her, wrapping her in a sheet, lying nearly naked next to her
for hours in her own bed. Right now, she couldn’t wait to be on her own again,
capable of defending herself from all things supernatural.
She turned at the sound of footsteps getting closer and grinned. The brothers’
body language signalled equal amounts of practiced ease and awkward discomfort
as they walked towards her in their cheap suits.
“You clean up nicely, boys,” she smiled, “but I still don’t see how you’re
going to make people leave their homes.” Dean exchanged a quick glance with Sam
and they nodded almost imperceptibly at each other. With nearly perfect
synchronicity they each flipped a badge at her.
“Special Agent Smith,” Dean smirked.
“Special Agent Smith. No relation” Sam continued. “Care to follow us, ma'am?”
“Isn’t impersonating federal agents illegal?” Caitlin’s smile faded and her
eyes widened. If she hadn’t known better they would have fooled her, and that
meant that anyone else could put on a convincing act and do whatever they
wanted, pretending to be the law.
Dean scowled at Caitlin. There with the judging again. Why couldn’t she see
that they were helping?
“So is strangling people,” he said harshly and immediately cursed himself as he
heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath. Before he could think of a way to talk
himself out of his spectacular blunder, Caitlin reached a hand out to touch
Sam’s elbow lightly and gave him a genuine smile. Dean tried to swallow around
a lump in his throat and strode ahead quickly, not so much unwilling as unable
to form an apology to Sam.
Sam frowned as he watched his brother race ahead of them. Lucifer showed up
again and told him that Dean hated him, couldn’t stand his guts. Sam pressed
his hand hard, letting memories of the past couple of years flood his mind.
Lucifer was wrong, of course he was. Sam shook it off so he could prepare
Caitlin for what was to come.
“So get this,” he told her, “we’ll have to get people out of the building so we
can search for the body without getting interrupted. We’ll tell them the police
will raid a meth lab and it will be safer for them not to be around.”
“Where do I fit into this?” Caitlin asked.
“You can wait in the car until people are out,” Sam said. Caitlin gave him a
look that in no uncertain way expressed her feelings about that particular
notion.
“Alright, then you’re um, you’re our consultant. A chemist, helping to collect
evidence. How does that sound?”
“Acceptable,” Caitlin amended with a small smile.
Caitlin was still thoroughly creeped out by how professional and convincing the
brothers were, posing as concerned FBI-agents. Her heart beat wildly in her
chest as they went from apartment to apartment, politely asking people to find
entertainment outside their safe homes for the next four hours. She was in on
this now, she was just as guilty as them. Slowly she became less anxious and
more thrilled. After all, they weren’t doing this to harm anyone, they were
trying to make the building safe again. They were helping.
Most of the tenants received the unexpected visit with a civil dignity that
spoke volumes of the nature of the neighborhood. As if this was what to expect
any given Saturday afternoon. Some bitched and argued but never much before
quieting down and following their request of leaving.
One elderly man, however, proved to be a serious pain. He stood in front of
them, supported by a crooked cane, wearing jeans and a tattered old plaid shirt
and a baseball cap. A goddamn baseball cap, Dean thought, as the man gave them
a piece of his mind.
“How’d I know there’ll be a home when I git back? You idjits’re prob’ly gonna
blow up the whole neighborhood. Would look better too, but it’s my home. I
ain’t leaving.” Dean stared open mouthed at the guy. Rarely had the grief hit
him so hard and sudden, a wish to see the real Bobby Singer greeting him in his
gruff manner overwhelming him. Next to him, Sam was pressing his hand hard,
opening and closing his eyes as if not believing what they told him.
Something was wrong, Caitlin could tell as much. When others had voiced
concerns, one of the brothers had been quick to offer comfort and assure the
worried tenants that nothing would happen. This time, they both stood frozen to
the spot, apparently unable to move or speak.
“Sir,” she said as she stepped in front of the brothers. “We understand your
concerns, which is why I am here. I will be able to neutralize any danger of
explosions within less than a minute, once I get access to the lab. Your home
will still be here when you get back, but it is imperative that the building is
empty to ensure that there are no possible hostages available.” She fought to
keep her breathing even after her long rant, and to keep her face as neutral as
possible. She was lying to some old guy, who was simply concerned about his
home. ‘How despicable can I get? How often did someone justify their actions as
means to an end, a little bad for the greater good, only to become harshly
judged by history?’ she thought. But she was helplessly caught up in Winchester
logic; and thus she kept a level gaze at the old man, who eyed her
suspiciously.
“Bullshit,” he finally muttered, removing his cap only to smooth his pitiful
few stray hairs and put it back on. “If something’s gonna blow, you ain’t got a
snowball’s chance in hell to stop it before it goes boom.” He put his hands at
his hips and looked at her accusingly. “It’s clear as day you don’t know jack
shit about explosives, little girl.” Caitlin forgot all about her musings on
ethics, and got right in the man’s face, her finger tapping his chest as she
spoke.
“Don’t you dare ‘little girl’ me, sir. I’ve been nothing but polite and you
should at least be able to return the favor.” She stepped back a little and
continued in a softer voice. “You might have blown up a bridge or five in a war
or two half a century ago, and all respect to you for that. But today I’m the
expert. When I tell you I’ll be able to stop an explosion it’s because I am. It
might not be pretty and it might destroy the evidence, but you have my word
that your home has higher priority than half finished drugs.” The man gave her
a wide eyed stare.
“I’ll be on my way in a minute,” he said and closed the door in their faces.
Caitlin turned to find both brothers staring at her, no longer dead frozen, but
still open mouthed.
“What?” she asked them, carefully not showing how gratified their disbelieving
expressions made her feel. “It’s not like you guys were saying anything.” Dean
swallowed visibly.
“Remind me never to play poker with you,” he gruffly managed, before moving to
the next door.
***** Ghost Whisperer *****
It had been three hours, one spent driving the tenants out and two picking
locks and searching apartments using a blinking walkman Dean referred to as an
EMF-meter. Sam had searched the basement and moved on to the attic without
finding any signs of paranormal activities. He had now moved to stand in the
entrance hallway where the ghost had attacked Caitlin, warning off anyone
returning home early to stay out a little longer.
Dean had grudgingly agreed to let Caitlin pick the locks; he had a hard time
deciding whether to be pissed or proud at how fast she picked that particular
skill up.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” he asked her after she deftly managed
to open a door as fast as he could have done it himself. She stopped dead in
her tracks, inhaling sharply.
“No. Yeah. Maybe,” she said, before her eyes fell shut and her knees gave out
underneath her. Instinctively, Dean reached out and grabbed her shoulders,
preventing her from tumbling limply to the floor. Eyes suddenly wide open and
staring emptily at him, Caitlin pushed herself away, hyperventilating.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed.
Caitlin watched Dean’s jaw clench and expected an angry remark but he kept
silent. Flashes of memories still flickered in her mind, threatening to take
her back to that time. ‘No more,’ she thought to herself. ‘I can’t go back
there again today.’ She tried to push the image of the padlock on the fridge
away. If they were unhappy with her, they would lock it while they were gone.
Good thing she did all the cooking or they would have figured out she knew how
to open it. She managed to flash forward to her escape before memories of
reasons for them to lock the fridge surfaced. Coming back to the here and now,
she expected Dean to be watching her impatiently, but instead she found him
staring at something behind her. The goosebumps on her arms and neck and the
small cloud her exhalation turned into made her spin. The ghost was no prettier
this time around as it reached out towards her.
She managed to dodge the grasping hands with a quick step backwards only to
bump into Dean, catching him off-balance as he was about to launch an attack.
The impact sent him stumbling further away as the ghost closed the distance.
It’s cold fingers wrapped around Caitlin’s neck, the contusions from the night
before screaming in protest. Before the grip tightened enough to choke her,
Dean recovered and swung the crowbar over his head and rammed it through the
top of the ghost’s head down through it’s body before he stopped it’s momentum.
Gasping, Caitlin watched the ghost dissipate into the air before she locked
eyes with Dean, both of them breathing heavily; Dean’s eyes serious and his
stance alert.
Adrenaline rushing through her, Caitlin surveyed the room, noticing that the
room didn’t mirror the others they had searched. A wall that no sane architect
would have ever facilitated split the room in two. She pointed Dean towards it,
while she bent down to pick up the shotgun with salt pellets from the duffel
next to the door. He pulled the EMF out again as she positioned herself at the
front door where she could easily observe the room and the hallway.
The EMF bleeped and eeped insistently as Dean ran the sensor across the out-of-
place wall. He walked to the end and realized that it was a lot thicker than an
ordinary partition wall; thick enough that they could in fact be staring at the
old cliché of a body hidden inside a wall. His head was spinning different
scenarios on how to salt and burn the body without alerting authorities or
destroying too much property, when he felt the cold only an instant before his
throat was squeezed shut. His eyes shot over to Caitlin, hoping for help, only
to find her turned away and looking out the front door.
Dean kicked the wall as the edges of his vision began to blur, not yet because
of lack of oxygen but because of the sheer pressure on his neck; Caitlin’s head
whipped around and without hesitation, she pumped the gun while stepping a few
feet to the right to avoid hitting him. The gunshot echoed, and Dean wheezed
heavenly air into his lungs, his ears ringing from the gunshot.
“You okay?” Caitlin asked him, and he could almost imagine her grabbing a
flashlight and checking his pupils; the once over she gave him was that
intense.
“Yeah,” he croaked. “ ‘m fine. Thanks,” he added with a nod.
It had been a nice shot and effective moves, if credit should go where it was
due. She gravely returned the nod.
“Of course,” she said softly as if it had been nothing more than passing the
salt. Dean cocked an eyebrow and swore to himself that he was never going to
make sense of her reactions to the world. Caitlin mirrored the expression as if
to say ‘damned straight, you won’t.’ Dean shook his head as he heard Bobby’s
voice in the back of his mind, clear as day. ‘Best get your head back in the
game, son, this is a case not a hook-up.’
Caitlin’s heart beat loud enough that she barely heard Dean’s thanks. At least
this time, she hadn’t been the one feeling the icy chill around her neck. How
long before the next attack? What to do about a body inside a wall? It would
definitely take a long time to dig it out using the crowbar. Then her skin
began to prickle in anticipation and she knew the ghost was coming again.
“Stop,” Caitlin yelled, as the grayish figure appeared next to Dean, who had
been lost in thought. “We know what happened to you. We know where you are.”
The ghost seemed to hesitate, as Dean backed away from it. Caitlin continued.
“We can find out who did this to you. We can tell your family what happened,
let them know you didn’t leave them on purpose.”
Slowly the figure turned towards her, unthreateningly, its arms resting at its
sides. Color seemed to seep in from everywhere, erasing the bullet hole and the
discoloring at its neck, even as Caitlin for the first time noticed how the
ghost had marks that matched her own. A man in his mid forties stood before
them, a sad, serene smile on his now unscarred face. Then he dissipated as he
had before, in a soundless explosion of light and colors. Afterwards, the
atmosphere of the room seemed brighter and more cheerful.
“Hah,” Dean whooped with a fist pump in the air. Caitlin felt her heart skip a
beat; because of the whole ghost disappearing thing, obviously. Not because
Dean looked carefree, innocent, and boyish when he smiled like that.
“You’re a natural,” Dean told her. “Our very own Melinda Gordon.” She smiled
back at him tentatively, and suddenly he remembered that the two of them had
been at odds most of the day. He rubbed his neck, unsure of what to say. She
spoke first.
“I’m a very hungry Melinda,” she said with that crooked, half-sad smile of
hers. “How about we clean up our mess and find some food?”
“Yeah,” Dean agreed, throwing the crowbar into the duffel. “Yeah that sounds
like a plan.”
***** Dinner *****
Back at the car, Caitlin drew a deep sigh before telling the brothers about the
plan she had concocted on the way back.
“How about we shop for real food? I’ll cook it while you empty your stuff from
that rat trap you’ve been slumming in, and you can bunk in the living room.”
Both men stared at her in disbelief.
“You’ll let us sleep in your apartment, after… well, everything?” Sam asked
her.
“Since you already know where it is, I won’t be staying there for much longer
any way,” she sighed. “I told you, no one can know where I live. I’ll have to
find some other place in a week or two. And since you guys will be telling me
everything you know about fighting monsters, we might as well be somewhere with
electricity, wifi and running water.”
They bought provisions to last them a couple of days, dividing what was needed
for tonight’s dinner into a bag of its own, so Caitlin wouldn’t have to carry
too much. Then Dean made an anonymous phone call from a payphone to inform the
police that a thermal camera sweep of a certain apartment had left him
dumbfounded as it showed a human shaped hole in the insulation in a partition
wall. After that, the brothers left to clean out their ragtag temporary ‘home’
while Caitlin walked to her apartment to start cooking.
     Mrs. Davies watched the two men through her peephole, her cordless
     phone in her hand. That trailer trash cheeky man who had enquired
     about sweet Ms. Smith earlier was back again, and he had company. It
     had certainly not evaded Mrs. Davies attention that the man had
     somehow ended up in the hallway in a state of despicable undress
     earlier. How, was quite a mystery, since she had never heard a knock
     on the door next to hers; she was convinced that he had forced his
     way into her poor neighbor’s home. Good thing Ms. Smith could handle
     herself and had made him leave. Why she went with him a little later,
     though, Mrs. Davies could not guess. Was he back now with a friend,
     to perhaps make some kind of retaliation against Ms. Smith?
     Mrs. Davies watched the men carefully, as they tentatively knocked on
     the door in front of them. She relaxed a little and berated herself
     for being paranoid; they wouldn’t wear suits if they were planning
     something violent. She watched the door open and Ms. Smith happily
     beckon the two men inside. Mrs. Davies tried hard to make sense of
     the day’s events and could find no possible plausible explanation.
     Frustrated, she poured herself a glass of cheap red wine, and turned
     on the TV with the volume at maximum capacity. Curiosity might have
     killed the cat; at least she would wake up again sometime tomorrow
     with one hell of a hangover.
Dean felt more than a little awkward being back in Caitlin’s small apartment,
but this time he was invited; this time there was food. Actually, judging by
the smell assaulting his nostrils as the door opened, there was delicious food
and after months of roughing it, he couldn’t wait to taste a home cooked meal.
Caitlin’s cheeks were a little rosy after standing by the hot stove and she
smiled at them both, as if they were honored guests. It was very nice and also
really confusing; because up until now he could have sworn she (not so)
secretly hated his guts.
Not that the feeling wasn’t mutual most of the time, if he was honest with
himself. They had wasted a whole day on her and a simple salt and burn. Yeah,
okay maybe it wasn’t that simple, but they were already here to waste time on
Sam’s stupid case instead of dealing with their real problem. Dean inhaled
again and felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards at the smell of rosemary
and roasted chicken. Oh hell, there was food, it was no time to moan and bitch
about what he couldn’t do anything about anyway.
Sam helped set the table, and soon they were eating, Dean praising the food in
flowery phrases, all uttered with his mouth full. It was exasperating, Sam
thought. As if growing up the way they did excused Dean from simple table
manners. Lucifer helpfully pointed out how Dean would probably die choking on a
piece of meat someday, the way he ate. ‘Again,’ Lucifer added at Sam’s
carefully neutral expression. Sam’s appetite was as good as gone, the food
ashen in his mouth. It took all his self control to keep eating and smile at
Caitlin to nod his agreement with Dean.
“We really appreciate this,” he told her. “I mean everything. Real food, being
able to take a warm shower. It’s been a tough couple of months.”
Caitlin simply nodded.
“We uhm, we actually got you something. Sam thought we should bring flowers,
but I talked him into something more practical,” Dean admitted. One eyebrow
raised, Caitlin waited while he went and found a box the size of a medical
encyclopedia. It only weighed about the quarter of a book, and Caitlin opened
it with no idea of what to expect. It was a knife, almost the size of her
forearm. The handle was wrapped in brown leather, the double edged blade shone
as if made of silver, curly mystical signs adorned the middle. She lifted it
out of the box cautiously and tested its edges and balance. ‘Craftsmanship,’
she thought.
She caught Dean’s eyes.
“It’s silver,” he said. “Works on weres and shifters. Practical.”
“It might be a bit more practical with this to go with it,” Sam smirked next to
his brother and set something next to the box on the table. It was a leather
scabbard on a length of string; Caitlin immediately saw the amplitude of ways
it could be attached to her clothing or body, depending on whether she wanted
to achieve stealth or quick access to the knife.
“Of course, silver also kills humans just as well as steel, so be careful with
it,” Dean cautioned. Caitlin was speechless. She twirled the knife lovingly in
her hand a couple of times before reverently sliding it into the scabbard. Then
she caught the look on Dean’s face, as if he had seen a ghost. Well, as if he
was any other sane normal person who had just seen a ghost, at least.
“What’s wrong?” Caitlin asked him, but Dean was lost in the past. He was always
so careful not to think about Jo if he could help it. When the memory of how
she and Ellen died sometimes hit him hard, he would go on a bender. How was he
supposed to deal with another game of ‘what if... would they be alive then’ on
top of everything else?
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he finally managed to find the words.
“Please don’t twirl the knife like that.” He refrained from saying ‘ever again’
to mirror Caitlin’s own words that same morning.
“Dean, what the fuck?” she said hotly. “I get that you have issues but are you
in or out? If you’re still against helping me learn, why give me the knife in
the first place? I’m not going to hurt myself with it, you know.”
And wasn’t that just the pickle on the sandwich, her interpreting his reaction
as misguided concern for her safety; Dean could almost see Jo standing right in
front of him, not letting him get away with any shit. That particular feature
obviously held true for Caitlin too. He shook his head slowly.
“So not the point,” he said, his voice raw with everything. “Just gave me a
blast from the past. ‘s nothing. Forget it.” He caught Sam’s eyes and received
a solid hand on his shoulder. Sam knew.
“We need to prepare for the case tomorrow,” Sam said, effectively changing the
subject. “I’ll look into it tonight, see what I can dig up on the net.”
“You have another case?” Caitlin asked.
“Yeah,” Sam said, “that’s why we came to Seattle. There’s been some grisly
murders that look suspicious.” Dean inhaled deeply, as if getting ready to
start their argument over, but he didn’t say anything.
“Oh,” Caitlin said, a little disappointed. “I was hoping you could teach me
about monsters and research. I mean, I tried earlier today and there was just
so much on the Internet. How do you even know what’s real and what’s bull?” The
question had Sam chuckling.
“We usually go at it the other way around,” he admitted. “We study the victims
of the monster and form a theory based on its MO. Then we research.”
“So what do you think is going on here in Seattle?”
“I have no idea yet. We’re going to the morgue to talk to the M.E. tomorrow.”
Sam glared pointedly at Dean, who was busy glaring at Caitlin.
“You’re not coming, by the way. This is serious business, not rookie training
ground.”
“Fine,” she said, “as long as you tell me about it afterwards. I’ve got my own
hunt tomorrow. I’ll be looking for a new job. And a new place to live,” she
added pointedly glaring back at Dean, who shifted awkwardly in his seat.
Dean was tempted to ask her why she needed to move, just because they knew
where she lived. Since she had invited them to stay, she obviously wasn’t
afraid that they would hurt her. The problem was, that he knew very well that
it really was the only way for her to stay safe after meeting them. If the
Leviathans did another number on them and re-accessed their memories, she would
be a part of them. Once they moved on, they needed to make sure that they
didn’t know where she was, so the Leviathans couldn’t hurt her to get to them.
It was crappy but that was just the way things were these days.
Dean got up and salted the windows and front door, left an extra hex bag under
Caitlin’s bed, and left it to Sam to explain to her, why his brother was
pouring the common spice everywhere in her neat home.
***** Blowing off Steam *****
Eventually Dean plopped himself down on the couch and turned on the TV. Sam
would be sleeping in it for the night and Dean intended to sleep on the floor,
but as long as his brother was working, he might as well enjoy the feeling of a
soft, comfortable couch under him. And shark week, no less.
Sam and Caitlin shared amused glances every now and then, when Dean’s snores
were loud enough to drown out the droning voice from the TV.
“So you’re not going to just leave your life and become a hunter, right?” Sam
asked her, after showing her the details he already knew about the current
case.
“No,” she said. “I’m five months from finishing med school. It’s what I’ve
always wanted, and I’ve fought hard to get this far. I just don’t want that
taken away by some chance encounter with something that won’t back down from
traditional pain.”
Sam chuckled at that. ‘Traditional pain,’ he thought to himself. ‘Yeah, some of
us don’t really know how to let that stop us.’
“So what you’ll want to do is keep an eye on the local news for anything out of
the ordinary. To isolate any supernaturally related events and figure out what
to watch out for.”
“That sounds so simple,” Caitlin said, “but somehow I doubt it is.” Sam nodded.
“Well, you’ll quickly catch onto what’s relevant and what isn’t. Then it’s all
about finding a pattern. The pattern will lead you to the monster. Or, in your
case, away from it.”
“Sam,” Caitlin began, not knowing exactly what to ask. “That blast from the
past Dean was talking about… Can you tell me about…”
“I felt it too,” Sam said sadly. “Ellen and Jo were heroes, and they died for
nothing. They lost everything because of Winchesters. I… I don’t think I can
tell you,” he shuddered. Caitlin noticed how he wasn’t looking straight at her,
before pressing into his hand, where a scabbed over wound was clearly visible.
It must hurt like hell to do that, she thought.
“What do you see, Sam?” She watched him intently, sure that she was onto
something.
“My past. My present. My future. All in the light of the Morning Star.” Sam
spoke hollowly, and ended in a slightly hysterical giggle. He drew a deep
ragged breath, and regained his composure.
“Promise me, Caitlin,” he told her, “that we’ll never see you again after we
leave. Stay here, become a doctor. Be happy, be safe. Don’t ever cross paths
with us again.”
“I’ll try,” she smiled wryly. “I can’t say I wasn’t warned, if it should
happen.”
It was getting late, and Caitlin bid Sam goodnight before withdrawing to her
locked bedroom. She felt strangely safe with the brothers in her home. Even
after Sam’s blood curdling warning about staying away from them. The last day
had been overwhelming to say the least; now she just wanted to sleep for a
week. But when she finally closed her eyes, sleep wouldn’t come. Instead she
kept thinking about Dean lying next to her, holding her tight to him, as he had
been earlier that day. She felt a strange longing, and huffed angrily at
herself. He had saved her because he had followed her and broken into her home;
and he had been a complete asshole about it later, with Sam. ‘He was concerned
about you, and you threw him out almost naked. You yelled at him,’ her
reasonable inner voice argued. It was the voice that she could count on to stop
her from overreacting in her interactions with others. She did not like how it
butted in to defend Dean, when she was trying to hold onto her anger towards
him.
Dean woke up at the shuffling of footsteps around the apartment, as Caitlin
disappeared and Sam made ready for bed. He groaned, eyes heavy after sleeping,
but managed to sit up.
“Dude, crash here. I’ll take the floor,” he mumbled, and fell onto the floor as
he tried to get up from the couch. Sam laughed in a way he did way too rarely
these days. Dean couldn’t even bring up enough energy to be embarrassed, he
just savored the sound of his brother’s mirth, as he carefully managed to stand
upright without keeling over. Three hours of sleep in two days just didn’t cut
it, he thought to himself, lurching over to the pile of blankets Sam had been
arranging.
Sam watched Dean fight to stay upright long enough to collapse. He would have
argued with him that he could sleep on the floor just fine, that Dean was the
one who lacked sleep the most; but he knew his brother. It would be futile.
Instead he crammed himself onto the couch and enjoyed the feeling. Soon he was
enveloped in his dreams, past, present and his unconscious ramblings jumbled
together.
Dean was running from hell hounds. But he shouldn’t be running away, he should
be running towards them. They weren’t after him, after all. Then he heard the
explosion and felt his heart constrict in his chest, felt unable to breathe.
It was cold, so he drew the trench coat tighter around himself. It was cold the
way it had been, when Cas had told them to kneel before him. Cold like it had
been in the panic room, when Sam was lying there again; dead to the world,
reliving the horrors of the cage. He was holding a baseball cap in his hands,
staring at a bullet hole and a drop of blood and it was still so very very
cold. Dean woke with a start, not really surprised at the wetness on his face.
A look at his phone told him that he had gotten another two hours; he knew
there was no going back to sleep now.
He quietly got up and dressed in his suit, since that was easiest to find, left
a note to Sam that he was going out to blow off some steam, and left the
apartment. An hour later, he found himself in a rather uptown, a bit too fancy
bar (but it fit the suit), telling a very attractive woman that he was an
investment banker. After that came the craziest, hottest sex he could remember
having for a very long time. It was absolutely amazing and had him completely
forget that anything existed outside Lydia’s bedroom. Going back to the
apartment, and lock-picking his way back in, he felt a little guilty. He
briefly wondered why, and shook it off, before collapsing on the blanketed
floor.
Dean woke up to a breakfast of kings, Sam looking over his hickeys and fumbling
steps with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Caitlin didn’t meet his eyes at
all and the sliver of guilt wormed its way into his consciousness again, until
he angrily stomped it out.
Caitlin saw the hickeys and Sam’s expression. She briefly wondered if they were
lovers as well as brothers, until her eyes fell on the note still on the coffee
table. So Dean had left some time during the night, while she slept soundly
thinking he was close. She didn’t want to examine the way that knowledge seemed
to carve a hole in her chest. They would all be going their separate ways in a
day or two; she knew she couldn’t depend on anyone. She wasn’t going to let
herself depend on Dean.
They ate in awkward silence, until Sam started talking about how he wanted to
go to the coroner first. He opened his laptop to find the notes on the address
and let out a low whistle.
“Another murder,” he said, turning the laptop to Dean so he could glance at the
police report.
“Fuck,” Dean muttered. “I’d hate to go like that.”
“I hope they passed out pretty quickly,” Sam agreed. Something from a dream or
maybe a memory stirred inside him. How many times had Lucifer done exactly this
to him, denying him unconsciousness? Lucifer hummed contentedly from the other
side of the table, counting on his fingers, over and over again. Sam pressed
his hand and waited for the memory and the hallucination to fade. He looked up
to find Dean considering him. His brother left the table, putting a hand on
Sam’s shoulder and squeezing it tight.
“Let’s put a stop to this,” he murmured softly.
***** It's All Greek to Me *****
Chapter Notes
     From now on, I'll be updating every Monday :)
Their little exchange didn’t go unnoticed by Caitlin. Briefly, she let herself
wonder what it would be like, to have someone always there, the way the
brothers had each other. She shrugged it off; she had brothers once too, and
look what good had come of that. The thought brought an image to flash in front
of her eyes; Cody with a sneer on his face, looking down at her. She pushed the
memory away, her palms suddenly wet and sweat beading on her forehead.
Thankfully the guys were halfway out the door and completely oblivious.
“Hey, Caitlin!” Dean cut through her thoughts. “How about we exchange phone
numbers? We’ll let you know when we’ll be back.” The unspoken ‘so we don’t
scare the crap out of you or something’ rankled her, but she nodded. Only the
college had her number, but she figured she’d change it as well as everything
else when it was time to move.
“Thanks,” Dean said, “now we won’t get back to a cold dinner.” Caitlin simply
raised one eyebrow, when she caught hold of his cheeky grin.
“It’s your night to cook.”
“But Baby, I’ll be working hard all day,” he teased her, and she couldn’t stop
a half smile from forming on her lips.
“Me too, dumbass. Now scoot.”
Caitlin’s day went by in a blur. She checked the schedule for the following
week, made a list of what she needed to read up on, which papers were due and
how far along they were, and began prioritizing. She had never had to do that
before but she knew her fellow students did it all the time to make room for
parties, family, and friends. A student counsellor had once given a lecture on
how to survive med school; she had explained that they weren’t expected to read
everything and come to every class. They were, however, expected to be smart
about what they missed out on, because it could someday, potentially, cost
someone their life. Caitlin agonized over her list, and hoped in the end that
she had been smart.
She went to the store and bought the local paper, went back and sifted through
the ads, marking a couple of potential places to live. She checked her bank
account, which was largely unnecessary, since she knew its contents by heart.
There was enough money for her to pay the deposit for a new place and the
tuition fees for the next semester. But she would be hard pressed from now on
to be able to save up enough to keep up after that. Maybe if she could find
somewhere cheaper to stay; but that usually required living with roommates.
That was one thing she definitely wasn’t cut out for.
Caitlin made a few appointments to look at available apartments, and even found
one she liked. It wasn’t as nice a building as the old one, but the rent was a
third less so she could afford putting in some extra security; comfort was
never a concern of hers and the kitchen and bathroom were tolerable. She
briefly wished she could have given it a run with the EMF but shook it off.
She’d figure it out if anything was haunting the place. She signed the lease
with her taking over the place the following weekend, and went home to finalize
the deal by transferring the deposit.
It was around 3pm and she had solved one half of her problem. Now came what was
making her cringe on the inside; begging for a job she’d never do in a million
years if she felt like there was any other choice. Five bars later, and she had
a place to go next day. The manager had even seemed genuinely decent; it was
never easy finding work when you were only willing to submit the minimal
information needed to keep IRS off everyone’s backs.
Her phone rang as she passed through the door to where she now worked, ‘Sid’s
Place.’ She startled, not used to anyone calling her and she fumbled with it so
long she thought it would go to voicemail. Then Dean’s voice was in her ear.
“If I’m cooking, I’m bringing thai food.”
“I can live with that,” Caitlin smiled.
“Alright, see you around seven,” he said and hung up without waiting for her
reply. She stared a little bewildered at the now dark display, then she
shrugged. Apparently their day hadn’t been as rewarding as hers.
Caitlin managed to actually study for almost an hour before the brothers
knocked on the door. She opened it to sniff the scent of ginger and curry in
the air. She caught a movement behind her neighbor’s peephole and couldn’t help
a smile. Mrs. Davies must be having a blast with what had been happening
outside her door these last two days.
“Come on in, guys. Dean, your cooking smells wonderful,” she joked.
“Right. No, sit back down, Sam and I can set the table.” Dean gestured for her
to go back to the couch and the book on the coffee table. Pleasantly surprised,
Caitlin humored him and tried to concentrate on the different ways to
chemically affect the pancreas.
When they all sat down to eat, Sam was quick to ask Caitlin how her day had
gone. Quick enough, that it was obvious to her that he didn’t want to talk
about what he and Dean had been up to. She humored him for the moment and
informed them, a little smugly, that her life was back on track. Both brothers
looked immensely relieved to hear it.
“So, your reluctance to talk about today is duly noted, but I thought we had a
deal?” Caitlin inquired, making Dean put his face in his hands and Sam sigh
deeply.
“It’s nothing we’ve ever come across before. And our only lead is a weird-ass
symbol we don’t know where to start looking for the meaning of,” Sam informed
her. He gestured to the extra bags they had dragged up from the car. “We’ll be
hitting the books tonight.” Next to him, Dean gave a little whimper without
raising his head.
“Not into research?” Caitlin asked him, amused. Dean sat back up.
“No, I’m a man of action,” he proclaimed with a shit eating grin. Despite
herself, Caitlin couldn’t help a small giggle, before she turned to Sam,
serious.
“I’ll help.”
After eating, the table was quickly laden with old obscure books on ancient
sumerian, symbolism in ancient Egypt, memories of the Mayans and so forth. Sam
pulled out a photograph of a symbol, and Caitlin recoiled in horror, when she
realized it had been carved into the torso of a man. Sam shrugged
apologetically, not much he could do about it; it had been Caitlin’s decision
to help.
“So, I’m thinking it might be sumerian,” he said and grabbed one of the books
on that. “Dean, why don’t you look at the Mayan angle?” Dean sighed deeply and
moved to haul his book to him in slow motion. Caitlin was still staring at the
symbol and Sam figured she was freaking out, and let her be. He practically
forgot about her, as he submerged himself into his search for a way to decipher
the symbol. When he looked up again, almost thirty minutes later, she was still
staring at the picture, tracing the patterns of the symbol with a trembling
finger.
“I think it’s greek,” she said. Sam frowned; she hadn’t even opened a book.
“You know, people think doctors speak latin, but medical latin is more ancient
greek than anything else,” Caitlin continued. “I took classes before starting
med school, so it would be easier.”
“And you recognize something from those classes here?” Sam asked her, keeping
the skepticism he felt from showing.
“Our professor was sort of nutty,” she explained. “He would start all normal
and then something would catch his attention and he’d rant off in some obscure
direction until the lesson was over. Sometimes longer. He liked mythology.”
Both brothers were watching her now, waiting, and Caitlin felt a little self
conscious. After all she had never seen the symbol in its entirety before, only
some parts of it; and never in a book, only drawn on the board by professor
Morrison’s eager hand. But she was sure she remembered it correctly.
She traced part of the symbol with her finger. “This is the symbol of Ares. He
was a god of war in ancient Greece, you know with Zeus, the horn-dog, and Hera,
the hysterical.“ She realized Sam was gaping at her open mouthed, and stopped
talking. “Greek mythology isn’t real, is it?” she asked tentatively, suddenly
aware that she had possibly trash talked some awfully powerful entities.
“Probably,” Dean told her, lips curving mischievously upwards. “I once called a
bunch of assorted Norse and Egyptian gods ‘murdering chimps’ and ‘primitive
screwheads.’” He chuckled to himself. “Yeah, good times.” He leaned back with
an easy smile on his face. “Remember that, Sammy?”
“I remember Lucifer killed Gabriel,” Sam remarked, eyes sad and soft. Dean
nodded, mood sombre again. He lifted his bottle.
“A toast for the mighty trickster,” he said, smiling wistfully. Sam bumped
bottles with him and drank sparingly. Alcohol only made it harder to dispel
Lucifer, who was having the time of his life, telling Sam about all the
horrible things he did to Gabriel before killing him.
“We should probably talk to that professor, maybe he’ll be able to decipher the
rest of the symbol,” Sam decided. Dean groaned at the thought, but nodded
regardlessly.
“Tomorrow,” he said, then continued in Caitlin’s direction, “what’s he like?”
“Weird,” she smiled. “Arrogant, plays up the value of his degree. Hates the IRS
with a burning passion. Enjoys to theorize over occult stuff.” The brothers
shared a look, saying ‘sounds workable.’
***** In This Together *****
“Why don’t we kick back and relax for now,” Sam suggested. “Watch a movie, what
do you say, Dean?” Dean hesitated a moment, before shaking his head.
“I’m gonna do some Roman-digging.”
“Dean…” Sam began before he was cut off short.
“Don’t start,” Dean ordered, and then pointedly ignored him, as he relocated
the laptop to his liking.
“Fine, do your thing,” Sam gave in. “You up for watching a movie?” he asked
Caitlin.
“Sorry,” she smiled sadly. “Gotta study. TV’s all yours.”
She went to the coffee table for her double-brick sized book, and sat down
opposite Dean.
“I thought you hated research?” When Dean didn’t answer right away, Sam chimed
in.
“Only when he’s not obsessed.” Dean’s eyes shot up behind the laptop to burn
into his brothers skull.
“What I don’t get is, why you don’t care, Sam.” Dean’s tone was icy.
“You know I do,” Sam protested. “We talked about this. We’re out of leads for
now. The second the scumbag slips up, we’ll get him, okay.”
Caitlin listened to the exchange between the brothers, half scared, half
amused. She tried to focus on her studies, but Dean sitting across the table
from her, huffing in annoyance every other minute, was a powerful distraction.
And the names they had mentioned earlier. Lucifer, Gabriel. They couldn’t be
talking about… could they? She wearily dismissed the thought. She probably
didn’t want to know about it, it sounded like a thing of the past.
“So what’s gotten you obsessed?” she finally asked him. The green fire and ice
earlier directed at Sam, now pierced through her.
“You don’t need to know,” he told her coolly. Sam cleared his throat pointedly
from his place on the couch.
“Maybe she should,” he interjected. “We don’t know how long it’ll take until
they’re gone. She should know what to do, if she ever has a run-in with them.”
Sam shrugged and seemed to leave it up to Dean. Dean’s gaze flitted angrily
between the two of them, until he gave an exasperated snort.
“Fine. We’re having a problem with some monsters called Leviathan,” he began.
Caitlin gasped.
“They’re some sort of demons, aren’t they?” She was sure she had read something
about them once.
“No, demons we can deal with. Leviathans are monsters. Powerful enough that God
figured they’d eat the whole fucking petri dish, so he threw them into monster
hell, or purgatory. Only about six months ago, they got out.” The anger in
Dean’s voice struck a nerve and Caitlin’s eyes narrowed at Sam squeezing his
hand violently.
“You let them out, didn’t you?” she questioned them. “That’s why Sam is all
fucked up, right?”
“No. We tried to stop it. Didn’t work out. That’s why Sam is all fucked up.”
Dean held back, unwilling to yell at Caitlin. She didn’t know, he didn’t want
her to know. Know about everything. About Cas. “Look, all you need to know is,
they don’t like borax. Soap. It works on them, like holy water does on demons.
So if you meet one, you douse it with soap, chop it’s head off, the way you
would with a vampire, and then you make sure the head and the body are hidden
in separate states, got it?”
“I guess.” Caitlin paused “Did you say soap? Really?!”
“Don’t ask how that was found out,” Dean snickered.
“What do they look like?”
“Anyone, until they decide to eat you. Then their whole face kinda turns into a
mouth.” Dean smiled sadly at her frightened expression. “Hey, if you’re
nervous, just always have a little soap on your hands, and you’ll know as soon
as you touch one. They don’t eat people publicly.”
“Okay,” Caitlin said, taking a deep calming breath. ‘I can do this,’ she told
herself. ‘If they can do this every day of their lives, I can deal with it on
occasion. I can do this. Hey, I’ll be getting my hands clean, not dirty.’
“So what are you looking for, Dean? I can keep my eyes open, too.” With that,
Caitlin changed the subject to matters at hand. Frowning, Dean turned the
computer towards her. The name Dick Roman Enterprises, and pictures of the well
known billionaire met her gaze.
“He’s their leader,” Dean said. “He’s up to something. And he killed Bobby.
We’re taking him down.”
“So, what kind of information do you need?” (‘And who was Bobby?’) The words
Caitlin had spoken made Dean squint in thought.
“Last thing we knew of, they were trying to drug people into being easy food.
And they wanted to cure cancer; to make us better food, obviously.”
“Obviously.” Caitlin’s heart pounded in her chest. Those Leviathans were really
bad.
“I guess we’re looking for the next venture that’ll have something to do with
them trying to control humans.”
Another couple of hours passed, Dean at the laptop, Sam at the TV, Caitlin with
her books. After the revelations of the ‘big bad’ the brothers were up against
(and Caitlin was so done with Buffy, by the way) the silence between the three
of them had been companionable. Now Dean was alternately yawning convincingly
and running his fingers through his hair. Caitlin hated how she had to admit
that he looked absolutely adorable with his sleepy expression and ruffled hair.
Sam was already snoring on the couch. She needed sleep too, tomorrow was a full
day at the hospital’s radiology department, then work. But Dean looked so tired
and she had a pretty good idea why he had gone out the day before; he probably
wasn’t sleeping any better than his brother. Finally she spoke, softly as not
to disturb Sam:
“Why don’t you take the bed tonight, I’ll take the floor.”
Dean merely stared at her, as if she had grown a second head.
“I’m not gonna let you sleep on the floor, in addition to everything else
you’ve already done for us,” he angry-whispered. Caitlin couldn’t help a
throaty laugh.
“Then you’ll sleep on the bare floor, and no one gets the bed.” she told him,
and ran to the pile of blankets, hurriedly lying down on top of them. She felt
her body tighten, ready for self defense, when he skulked predatorily towards
her, until she caught the glint of amusement in his eyes.
“I’ve got another suggestion,” he told her, voice low as he stood over her.
“How ‘bout we both sleep on the floor, or in the bed. Your choice.” He watched
the emotions wash over her face and added “sleep. Just sleep. We both need it.”
He reached out to her, and she reluctantly took his hand. ‘It’s okay,’ her
inner voice tried to reassure her. ‘He won’t do anything, or he would have
already. Yesterday.’ They walked to the bedroom together.
Dean kept his T-shirt and boxers on and laid down on his back on his half of
the bed, carefully pretending to be completely relaxed. ‘What the fuck are you
doing,’ he asked himself and didn’t know the answer. Last night he had found
oblivion in Lydia’s very enthusiastic lovemaking and that had been fine.
Classic Dean Winchester coping. But this? Sleeping next to a beautiful, broken
girl, whom he hardly knew whether to hate or admire? Pure idiocy. Dangerous
idjicy, his inner Bobby voice informed him. And then Caitlin crawled under the
comforter, wearing a set of baby blue pajamas. Reluctantly she lay down on her
side, back towards him. Their bodies didn’t touch anywhere, yet he felt the
heat from her, felt her quickened breaths through the mattress. Only the day
before, he had held her while she tried to shiver her way free, until she fell
into relaxed sleep. Lying next to her sleeping form, he had barely managed to
text Sam, before he gave into that moment of closeness and calm. Dean closed
his eyes and savored the moment, thankful that he got to stay with her like
that again. She wasn’t his to please this night, he had no obligation but to
lie there close to her and rest.
Caitlin listened to Dean’s slow breathing,and smiled to herself as it turned
into soft snores. If someone had told her three days ago, that she would
voluntarily sleep next to a man, she wouldn’t have believed them, yet here she
was. The Winchester brothers had showed up and turned her life upside down in
more ways than she could count. The part where monsters were real and could
kill her, was almost the smallest one. Because she was trusting someone for the
first time ever, since her stepfather turned against her.
She quietly turned around to watch Dean in the blue shades of the moonlight
through the curtains. She hadn’t really noticed until now how beautiful he was.
When he was awake, the anger was there beneath the surface all the time, and
he’d look tired and careworn. But resting like this, he looked almost boyish.
He looked like sunshine, like running through green meadows, like chasing
squirrels through dense woods; all the things she remembered loving, before her
childhood abruptly ended. And where the hell had that strange nostalgia come
from? She looked at Dean again, desperate to erase such thoughts from her mind.
He was just a man. A dangerous one, a man she shouldn’t, couldn’t trust.
Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, he shifted in his sleep, reached his
arm out to pull her closer to him. To her own great surprise, she let him, let
her head fall to rest on his chest and listened to the slow, steady beating of
his heart. Caitlin let the sound and the smell of him lull her to sleep.
***** Disturbia *****
Sam woke up sometime during the night and noticed the empty blankets along the
wall. He searched reflexively for a note and found none. Stumbling slightly,
dizzy with sleep and abandoned dreams, he got up to see his brother’s jacket
and shoes still in the hallway. Curious, he strained his ears, until he heard
the familiar sound of Dean’s heavy breaths of sleep. Unable to contain himself,
Sam followed the sound to Caitlin’s bedroom, and silently opened the door a
fraction, to gaze in wonder at the two, lying cuddled together in their sleep.
Immediately he felt guilty (and thankful they couldn’t hear the ruckus Lucifer
was stirring up to disturb him into disturbing them), but he didn’t regret his
intrusion, as he just as quietly closed the door behind him, and went back to
the couch. No doubt both Dean and Caitlin would spend forever stubbornly
pretending tonight never happened, and Sam would savor the peaceful look
Caitlin had put on his tired brother’s face for a long time to come.
The alarm on her phone went off as per usual, and Caitlin sleepily scrambled to
turn it off, when she realized her bed was unusually human-shaped. She forced
her eyes open, to stare into Dean’s equally confused and and sleepy face. Their
eyes widened as they both replayed last night’s events.
“Huh,” Dean managed. “Um, morning, Caitlin.”
“Morning Dean.” She was already heading for the bathroom, hiding her blushing
face from him. Honestly that whole situation was just god awful awkward.
She ate cereal while Dean was in the shower, Sam slumbering on the couch while
waiting for his turn to the bathroom. She was out the door and on her way to
the hospital before Dean returned. Once there, she kept seeing patients and
residents turning into bloodthirsty monsters. The girl with the broken wrist
had really long canines, and her lipstick was a deep dark blood colored red.
Everything about her was screaming vampire. A guy with a broken femur, drugged
beyond sensibility for the pain, had to be an athlete, the way his muscles
rippled under his shirt. He had long dark hair growth on almost every visible
part of his body. Werewolf, maybe? The attending doctor asked a question and
Caitlin felt icy cold when she didn’t know the answer. He could be a Leviathan
for all she knew. She was sweaty and aching from tensing up when her shift was
finally over and she had to hurry home to get ready for work.
She glanced over her shoulder every thirty seconds as she walked briskly to the
bus stop, and leaned against a wall and let her eyes roam over the people
passing by When the bus came she hurried to sit down in the back where she
could see everyone else. As usual she rode a couple of stops extra before
doubling back towards her soon to be ex-home. She flinched every time someone
passed her, stepped up her pace until she was nearly running. Entering the
empty apartment and closing the door behind her she drew a huge sigh of relief.
In another hour she would have to leave the relative safety of her home again.
After a couple of hours working at ‘Sid’s Place’ Caitlin was pleasantly
surprised. It sucked a lot less than any of her other bartending jobs ever had.
It was more a pub than a bar, people popping in for a drink after work and
leaving after just an hour. The place was busy for a simple afternoon on a
weekday, but Sid didn’t seem to think it out of the ordinary and Caitlin was
seasoned enough to easily keep up. After several customers had made pleasant
small talk with her, and then simply left it at that, she felt herself letting
go of some of the tension she was used to hiding but holding onto when at work.
Sid nodded at her when there was a small break between orders.
“Doing good,” he said. “It’s okay to smile, you know, our customers don’t
bite.”
“I’m starting to realize,” Caitlin answered, half a smile on her face, as the
door opened and Sam entered. Her shock at seeing him there was mirrored on his
face. While she tried to get herself under control, to play it cool, like he
was just another customer, Sam didn’t even think about subterfuge.
“Caitlin, hey,” he said, a dimpled smile spreading across his face. She groaned
inwardly at Sid’s waggling eyebrows and continued to simply watch Sam as he
crossed the floor to the bar and sat down. “I had no idea you’d be here,” he
told her, nodding to Sid. “Nice place.”
Caitlin got him a beer, scowling a little. She wasn’t keen on the brothers
being able to find her at work, but this job was too good to leave because of a
coincidence.
“So where’s Dean,” she asked him, when he pulled out his laptop.
“Good question,” Sam told her. “He was supposed to meet me at the police
station.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and called up his brother.
Caitlin kept an eye on him as he spoke.
“Dude. You never showed,” she heard Sam say and watched as he listened to
Dean’s answer.
“Oh come on man, what, are you obsessed or something?” Sam asked, annoyance
clear in his voice. Caitlin got lost in wondering what Dean was supposedly
obsessed about. Had he found something on the Roman-guy? She snapped back when
Sam asked if he needed backup. Caitlin listened as Sam explained about cold
cases two years in between and told Dean that he’d dodged a bullet. She frowned
wondering what that meant, as Sam got off the phone and sighed deeply. He
smiled apologetically at her.
“I know no other people as exasperating as my big brother,” he told her, as if
he was relaying a great secret.
“I believe you’re right about that,” Caitlin agreed. “Anything I can do to
help?” Sam shook his head no.
“I’ll just keep trying to find out more about the cold cases for now,” he said,
eyes already scanning the browser on his laptop. She nodded and got back to
work, slightly worried that Sid might be angry with her for chatting with one
customer for so long. She made sure to smile so wide her cheeks hurt at
everyone she served after that and soon she caught her boss’s eyes and was
rewarded with a nod and a thumbs up.
An hour and a half later, Dean made his appearance too. Caitlin started to pour
him a beer but he shook his head.
“Give me a double whiskey,” he said, his voice rough. “I need it.”
“Tough day?” she asked him carefully.
“More like weird,” he shrugged and emptied the glass.
“Tell me about it,” Caitlin smiled. It was more quiet now, plenty of time to
listen to him. Sam shut down the laptop and leaned in.
Dean squirmed a bit under Caitlin’s gaze. For some reason he didn’t feel
comfortable talking about his one night stand in front of her. He mentally hit
himself on the head for being stupid. Nothing was going on between him and
Caitlin, and if there were he’d better cut it off sooner than later, so why
should this be a problem. He just had to tell her that… ‘Well,’ his mind
supplied, ‘you’re a …’
“I’m a slut.” Dean blinked at Sam’s and Caitlin’s shocked expressions. Did he
say that out loud? Sam recovered first.
“I know, dude. Never thought I’d hear you admit it. What happened today?”
Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and decided that pretending his mouth
hadn’t just had a sudden case of diarrhea was the only way to survive.
“I went over to Lydia’s for Bobby’s flask,” he said, mostly for Caitlin’s
benefit, since Sam already knew as much. “She had this little girl in a crib,
and the girl was talking. She looked like a toddler but she was speaking like,
I don’t know, like she was eight or something.”
Caitlin listened to the rest of the conversation with mixed feelings. She
didn’t have a problem with Dean hooking up with someone, she really didn’t. It
wasn’t like she was interested.
“So what,” she heard Sam interject, “I mean, maybe she has another kid she
didn’t tell you about.”
Something fishy was probably going on, but it was too funny seeing Sam
tormenting Dean, when he countered Dean’s assumption that the toddler and the
older kid were the same girl, because they were both called Emma, by saying
George Foreman named all his sons George.
“Are you deliberately messing with me?” Dean bitched, and Caitlin gave Sam a
triumphant high five.
“Dean, what you’re suggesting is impossible,” Caitlin told him. “I think Sam is
being way too nice about it.”
***** Like a Japanese Cartoon *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter contains lines from the episode "The Slice Girls" - all
     credit and hails and thank yous go to the spn writers!
The brothers stuck around until Caitlin’s shift was over. She followed them to
the car, chatting about how nice everyone had been at her new job.
“I think I’m actually looking forward to going back Thursday,” she exulted, her
smile wider than it had been for years. Dean’s gaze was locked on her, a small
smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, before his expression darkened
again.
“I hope we’ll be joining you for a victory celebration then,” Dean muttered as
the three of them got in the car. “This case is really getting on my nerves.”
“Well,” Sam said, “hopefully professor Morrison has something useful to tell us
tomorrow.”
“Right,” Dean scoffed. “The professor. I’m sure he’ll crack the case wide
open.”
When they got back, Caitlin immediately gathered up a few books and nestled
against the armrest of her couch, legs curled up beside her. Sam set up his
laptop at the dining table, quietly staying out of the way. Dean flopped down
at the other side of the couch and turned on the TV. Caitlin threw him a
glance, before furrowing her brows and focusing on the page in front of her.
Dean zapped the channels until he found an old Clint Eastwood movie, and
settled in for real. As he moved his feet to rest them on the coffee table,
Caitlin wordlessly stretched a leg and kicked his shin. Dean stared at her
indignantly but she didn’t even raise her eyes from her book. Sam watched the
exchange with an amused smile.
Around the time the movie was done, Caitlin slammed the book on the coffee
table, making Sam start. She turned to give him an apologetic look.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m beat. Going to bed.” Dean glanced up at her and
opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He went back to staring at the credits
rolling over the screen. Caitlin sighed and went to the bathroom. Sam raised
his eyebrows at Dean.
“You’re not going after her?”
“Nah, I don’t wanna impose,” Dean shrugged, looking down. They both heard the
tap running and the door to the bathroom open. Caitlin’s head appeared in the
doorway to the living room.
“You coming, Dean?” she asked casually, gone again before he saw her
expression. Eyes wide, he hastily got to his feet.
“Yeah, sure.” Halfway through the door he turned to his brother. “G’night
Sammy.”
“Night, Dean,” Sam grinned smugly. “Sleep tight.”
“Shuddup, Sammy.” Dean said, looking ominous. Sam raised both hands in apparent
surrender.
“Not saying anything.” Dean closed the door behind him.
They lay in silence on the bed, same way as the night before. Caitlin on her
side facing the window, Dean on his back, resting his head on his hands.
“Am I gonna have to pretend to be asleep again, before you’ll be my teddy
bear?” he whispered softly, prompting Caitlin to snort a quick laugh.
“Guess not, as long as you don’t try anything else,” she answered, turning to
face him. “Or you’ll start losing body parts real quick.” Dean smiled at her as
he folded her into a gentle embrace. They stayed like that for some time,
relaxed and content, until he spoke again.
“I’m not gonna ask for any details, but is he alive?”
Caitlin tensed and curled up closer to him.
“Who?”
“The guy responsible for your trust issues.”
Just like that, Caitlin had to fight to stay in the moment, fight to avoid
being sent back in time. ‘There were three of them.’ She bit her tongue until
she tasted blood, until the pain became too real compared to the memories.
“How should I know? It’s been over ten years,” she said coldly. “And that is
the end of this conversation.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just… you shouldn’t have to feel that way.”
“Why? Because it’s not because of your kind of monsters?” Her voice shook as
she fought to keep it level. Dean stayed silent, the hand wrapped over her
shoulder barely twitching. “So because nothing supernatural has it out for me,
I’m not allowed to take care of myself? To be careful?” Her breathing was
ragged and her eyes stung as she finished. “What do you care, Dean?”
“Of course I care,” he protested, voice sharp with irritation that turned to
shaky frustration as he continued. “Life would be a lot easier if I didn’t, but
I do. I try not to, hell, I don’t want to care. But I can’t help it,” His hand
was gripping her arm, hard enough to bruise and his eyes bore into her, willing
her to understand. She laid her other hand over his.
“Dean, you’re hurting me.” He let go abruptly.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I can go…” he was halfway out of the bed in an instant.
“Don’t. Stay.” Caitlin was suddenly too tired for anger, fear and hurt. Dean
reluctantly laid back down next to her, and she rested her head on his chest,
listened to his heart beat.
“Thank you,” she said, just as Dean thought she had already fallen asleep.
The next morning, Caitlin got a ride to the hospital, since it was close by the
campus. The day turned out better than the last one. She actually listened to
the patients and attendees most of the time and she answered the questions she
was asked. It felt normal again. As if, since she didn’t get eaten yesterday,
her daily haunts were probably monster free. Faulty logic, of course, but she
took comfort in it anyway, clinging to the sense of normalcy every hour she
spent weaponless in the open halls of the hospital.
When she came home there was take-out on the table, hard to spot surrounded as
it was by books and stacks of paper.
“You guys look like me the day before midterms.”
“Well, our deadline is a bit more pressing,” Dean grunted and something about
his voice rankled her.
“What happened?”
Dean stubbornly didn’t look up from the book he was reading and Sam continued
to stare at the laptop, pressing his hand nervously.
“Apparently the woman I hooked up with a couple of days ago was something out
of goddamned hentai,” Dean finally admitted, standing up and stomping to the
bathroom. Non wiser, Caitlin gave Sam an inquisitive look.
“New and exciting monster,” Sam breathed with a wan smile. “Or, I should
probably say, very old. Amazons. Apparently they’re like world champions of
procreation. So that little girl Dean was in the roof about yesterday…”
“He’s a Dad?” Caitlin stared at Sam incredulously. “He has a daughter from a
hook-up that happened just a few days ago?”
“Seems like it,” Sam sighed. “And that means he’s on their list.”
“You mean that evil female monster warriors want to cut off his hands and
feet?” Caitlin ran a hand through her hair, her eyes wandering to the door
where Dean disappeared, but caught Sam’s nod in the corner of her eyes. “That’s
bad. Sam, that’s really bad. How are you going to stop it?”
“Working on it,” Sam grumbled, shuffling papers.
Dean appeared in the doorway and Caitlin went to his side.
“Don’t lose your hands and feet, Dean. You can’t hold me when we sleep if that
happens.” Dean gave her a soft smile.
“I won’t kiddo. Just remember no matter what, we’ll be saying goodbye soon.”
“I want you out there somewhere. Fighting the good fight.”
“You got it, Cat. Me and Sammy’ll figure it out.” Dean went back to the table
and began looking through the volumes of old books.
“Looking through Bobby’s files is like dumpster diving,” Dean complained as his
hands skated over the scattered books, looking for a place to start. Caitlin
grabbed the take-out leftovers and put them in the fridge for some time later.
She got stuck there, the door open and the cold washing over her skin, lost in
her own mind until Sam’s angry voice pulled her back.
“Because we WANT IT TO BE.” Sam was waving a paper in front of Dean.
“Maybe it’s useful,” Dean said hopefully.
“It's in a pile of ‘maybe it's useful.’ Besides, it's in Greek. Nobody reads
Greek,” Sam snapped.
“Yeah, except Greeks. Oh, and Bobby.” Dean snarked back.
“And me,” Caitlin said, hand outstretched towards the paper. “Let me have a
look.”
***** Who's on first *****
Half an hour later, she sighed in defeat.
“I’ve turned the Greek letters into roman letters but I can only find a third
of these words in my dictionary. We need a better one.”
“You know, there’s something called google translate,” Dean offered.
“Gee, how did I not know that,” Caitlin scoffed. “Not enough synonyms. A simple
pancake recipe would be too ambiguous to understand.”
“I’ll hit the library,” Sam told them, before things could evolve to a full
scale argument. He turned to Dean, worry gnawing at his gut. “You sit tight,
got it?”
“Yeah yeah,” Dean sighed. “Holding onto my hands and feet.”
“Take this,” Caitlin said and gave Sam the scrap of paper she had scribbled the
readable Greek words on, as well as the ones she already knew. “You try and
make sense of this at the library. I’ll make another one and show Dean why
google translate doesn’t work.”
Sam hesitated by the door. Dean and Caitlin were huddled close as she recreated
the paper she had just given him. Lucifer was standing next to Dean, miming
cutting off his hands.
“I was just thinking, wouldn’t it be faster if you went, Caitlin?” Sam pressed
his hand again, hard.
Caitlin regarded him thoughtfully, and turned to Dean.
“I think Sam has a point. I’ll go, and you get the tall bodyguard.” A soft
smile tugged her lips upwards, though her eyes were sad. “Just be here and
whole when I get back.”
“Take Sam with you,” Dean ordered, eyes narrow.
“No.”
“Then you’re staying, he’s going.”
“No.”
“Caitlin, listen to me…”
“No, you listen to me! I’m not the one who fucked momzilla and got on her
shitlist. I can take care of myself, and I will. See you later, Dean.” Caitlin
walked to Sam in the doorway, who wordlessly dropped the car keys in her hand.
“Caitlin, goddammit!” Dean yelled, bumping into Sam as he ran past him.
“Caitlin would you stop for a second!” He caught up with her in the hallway,
catching her shoulder when she didn’t slow down. She tensed up and he braced
himself for being shoved up against another wall, but she merely turned towards
him.
“Really Dean? You’re going to force me to stay against my will?” Her breathing
was shallow and he could see the traces of panic in her eyes, ready to take
over; but for now her anger was in control. His hand fell short.
“No, I wouldn’t. Never.” He let his hand fall completely and took a small step
back. “ And if I let myself think this through, you’re probably safer away from
me, Sam or no Sam.” He met her eyes, let her see all the want and hurt and
hesitance warring inside him. “I guess I just don’t want you to go.” She
unconsciously took a step towards him. He looked so very lost. Her hand came up
to rest against his cheek on its own accord and Dean leaned into her touch.
     Mrs. Davies had a large glass of red wine in one hand, the other
     pressed over her heart in an ‘aaw-gesture’. She stood with one eye
     firmly pressed against the peephole, and her ears strained to hear
     every word the couple in the hallway said to each other. She had seen
     a lot more of the two tall strangers the last few days. As far as she
     knew, they had spent more than one night in Ms. Smith’s apartment and
     until today’s shouting match, things had seemed weirdly peaceful.
     Mrs. Davies had formed a theory that the men must be family of some
     kind, but obviously she had been wrong. Right now, she was watching
     something far better than an episode of ‘Days of our Lives’.
     They were staring at each other with expressions of yearning, faces
     close. She was going to see them kiss, probably for the first time!
     Something wet hit her feet and she gave a small squeak. She had
     accidentally spilled some of her wine. She looked back through the
     peephole in time to see Ms. Smith smile towards her door
     mischievously.
     “Everything okay, Mrs. Davies?” Ms. Smith asked loudly.
     She held her breath, feeling her face burn with a different warmth
     than the usual alcohol induced flush. Ms. Smith looked back at her
     mystery man and leaned forward on tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on
     his cheek.
     “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Take care, Dean,” she promised
     and left him standing there.
     Slowly he lifted a hand to touch where her lips had grazed him,
     before the other man came to stand next to him, a comforting hand on
     his shoulder.
     “Come on, Dean, get back inside. She’ll be back soon.”
     “Dammit Sammy, why couldn’t you just have gone?” Dean grumbled as
     they went back into Ms. Smith’s apartment.
     Wine on her carpet or not, this was the best day in a long time. She
     sighed happily, going back to sit in front of her TV.
Caitlin toiled over the dictionary on ancient Greek. Two hours into the job,
though far from deciphering the entire text, it was at least beginning to make
more sense now. ‘Just a couple of hours more,’ she had texted Sam moments ago.
She searched for the next word, the sentence structure in the document so far
suggesting it would be the key to this paragraph.
Her finger started shaking as it followed the possible translations; heir, next
generation, child, successor, offspring. Dean was expecting his fling to show
up and try to kill him, not his own daughter. Caitlin slammed the book shut and
ran towards the car, fishing her phone out of her pocket.
Someone was standing in the shadows of the building closest to the car. Caitlin
kept running, trying to put the phone back in her pocket but missed. The person
moved to intercept her. Caitlin ignored the sound of her phone shattering on
the concrete and groped for the car keys, legs still pumping her forward. She
reached the driver’s door seconds before her pursuer, a woman in dark clothes,
face hidden by her long hair. Caitlin got the key in the lock on her first try,
and wrenched the door open in time to get it between her and the woman. She
threw herself sideways inside, slammed the door and hit the lock. It took two
attempts to get the key in the ignition and start the car, then she peeled away
from the curb, tires squealing, indifferent to traffic.
Another car soon became visible behind her, overtaking traffic and driving
recklessly. She needed to get back, tell the brothers about the Amazons’
initiation ritual, and she definitely needed to get off the road before she got
run off. Caitlin put on the emergency lights, hit the horn and didn’t let up
again, as she floored the gas pedal and headed straight for home.
     Emma climbed the stairs to her Dad’s place haltingly. Her hunter Dad.
     If she survived this night, she would never ever speak to her mother
     again. How could she have been so stupid? Not only had she fallen for
     the man’s lies, she had fallen for a man that was practically never
     alone. All of which meant that Emma’s chance for survival was only
     slightly better than her chance of successfully completing her rite
     of passage; a chance that barely even existed.
     Whether she did it or not, whether she lived or not, Dean Winchester
     and his brother would die tonight. Four elders were waiting nearby to
     ensure that. Emma was just the vanguard. The expendable one.
     She had one chance to do this and one chance only. She had to make
     him trust her, make him want to help her. Maybe it would be possible
     with days or weeks at her disposal but she had one hour. She stood
     before the door, breathing deeply. She was so going to die.
Sam led Dean back to the couch after bringing him inside. He sat him down,
pushed the remote out of reach and stared at his brother.
“Dean, what’s going on between you and Caitlin?” Dean frowned, running through
possible responses. ‘None of your business, Sasquatch.’ ‘Wouldn’t you like to
know, bitch.’ ‘Nothing.’
“I don’t know, Sammy,” was what ended up exiting his mouth.
“You need to step back. We’ll be leaving soon and it’s too dangerous for anyone
to be associated with us.” ‘Too dangerous to be someone we care about,’ was
what Dean heard. Dean stood abruptly to pace the small room.
“I know that, dammit. I know.” He went to his duffel and pulled out Bobby’s old
flask and took a long drink. “I just don’t know how,” he continued in an almost
whisper.
Dean lifted the flask to drink again and Sam slapped his hand, cheap bourbon
splattering over Dean’s face.
“Dude!”
“You’re not drinking yourself into oblivion while waiting for the executions
squad. Stay on your toes, Jerk.” Grumbling protests under his breath, Dean
capped the flask and put it back in his duffel. He picked up the remote and
channel surfed mindlessly until Dr. Sexy came on. Pointedly ignoring Sam, he
leaned back and put his feet on the table, relaxing back into the couch.
Dean woke up with a start, the episode long over and some old Oprah episode
running. Sam was lost behind the screen of his laptop.
“How long was I out?” he asked, looking around frantically for something to
tell him the time.
“A couple of hours,” Sam answered. “Relax. Caitlin texted me ten minutes ago,
said she figured it’d be another hour or two, if they didn’t close the doors on
her.” Dean sighed in relief and grabbed the remote. There was a tentative knock
on the door and the brothers stared at each other in frozen near panic. Sam
made a cutting motion with his hand to indicate they should ignore whoever was
beyond the door. Dean ignored Sam instead and went to look through the
peephole.
It was a teenage girl, looking nervous and out of place, with a duffel in her
hand. Green eyes stared back at him through the opening and Dean’s heartbeat
upped its pace. Sliding the chain in, he opened the door a fraction, mirroring
the nosy old lady next door, when he first came into the building.
“Yes?” He tried for polite but still came off as gruff.
“Hi,” the girl told him, eyes pleading for him to hear her out. “You don’t know
me, but my name is Emma. I need your help. I think I’m in trouble and you’re
the only person I can trust.”
“Why?” ‘Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it,’ Dean’s subconscious rambled
until she spoke again.
“Because you’re my father.”
***** Fight for your life *****
Dean stared unseeingly at the girl. ‘I’m your father. Worst Star Wars joke
ever. Seriously.’ Then he closed the door, unhooked the chain and let her in.
Sam was standing in front of the dining table, gun ready and trained at Emma.
She showed no reaction to his threatening posture.
“Hi uncle,” she said, careful not to make any fast movements.
“Are you here to kill him?” Sam asked her, nodding his head towards Dean.
“Officially, I guess,” Emma answered. “Unofficially, I’m here to beg you to
help me escape.”
“Why should we trust you?” Sam’s gaze didn’t waver as he scrutinized Emma.
She wore simple everyday clothing, her blonde hair fell loosely down her back.
‘How did it grow that long in just a few days?’ First she met his eyes
unflinching but soon she turned to Dean instead. ‘Her father. How fucked-up
surreal is that?’
“You probably shouldn’t. But if you don’t, we all die,” she told them, matter
of factly.
“Spill,” Dean ground out. Emma took one look at his stony expression and
sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.
“My choices are really limited, you know,” she began. “The rite of passage,
that will accept me into the tribe as an adult, is to kill my father.” She
looked apologetic and defiant at once. “Only my father happens to be a hunter,
hot on the tribes trail.” Looking at her feet, she continued. “It doesn’t
matter if I succeed or not. The tribe needs you two dead. I’ve only got half an
hour left, before they show up to make sure.” She lifted her face again and
walked to stand a few paces in front of Dean. “If you’re alive, my mission
failed. If you haven’t killed me, they will.” Her hand rose as if reaching out,
but stopped mid air. “Allying myself with you two, and running off to live as a
human is the only chance I have to live at all.”
“Say we believe you,” Dean started, “and that is a big if. What would you have
us do?”
“Leave right now, using the fire escape outside the bedroom window,” Emma said
without hesitation.
“What would the tribe do to our friend, who lives here?” Sam asked while Dean
was already shaking his head, because hell if he was going anywhere without
Caitlin.
“She’s probably already dead. I’m sorry.”
Dean froze mid shake, eyes wide with horror. He scrambled for his phone and
fumbled twice, before calling Caitlin, the call going straight to voicemail.
“Fuck!” He yelled, throwing the phone across the room to shatter against the
wall.
“Hey,” said Caitlin, standing in the hallway, out of breath and looking
nonplussed. “Those things are expensive.” Dean couldn’t stop staring at her.
“How long have you been here?” he finally got out.
“Just long enough to see your temper tantrum. What’s happening?” Caitlin’s eyes
narrowed when they fell on Emma. “Is she your daughter?” Dean nodded, eyes
downcast. Caitlin stared Emma down. “Are you going to kill him?”
“Not really an option for me at the moment,” Emma shrugged, nodding towards the
gun in Sam’s hands. Caitlin snorted. “At least you’re honest.” Emma shrugged
again.
“Shouldn’t we be packing?” she reminded them.
They only took weapons and, as an afterthought, the first aid kit. Dean went
out on the narrow ledge outside the bedroom window and latched onto the fire
escape. Caitlin was right behind him.
"What made you think living on the fourth floor was a good idea,” he muttered.
"Most robbers hate stairs,” she replied evenly, whispering to avoid alerting
anyone watching the building.
Dean kept his gaze locked on the window as first Emma and then Sam climbed out
on the ledge.
”What if there was a fire? You’d be toast.”
”No, because there’s this really cool fire escape, which you should be moving
your ass down right about now,” Caitlin huffed.
Dean flushed and began his descent, feeling his way while keeping his eyes
upturned.
”Enjoying the view or not into heights?” Caitlin smirked, moving gracefully
down the ladder above him. As Emma got on, the metal started shaking more
violently with their every move and every shake was followed by succeedingly
louder squeaks.
”Take your pick,” Dean told her, gritting his teeth as the wind ruffled his
clothing.
”I’m gonna go with the fear of heights so I won’t have to kick your ass then.”
The sound of footsteps running towards them interrupted Dean’s retort. He was
still level with the second story windows, but he put his hands and feet on the
outside of the metal ladder and slid down quickly. He hit the concrete with a
heavy thud and felt his joints jar at the impact.
”I hate heights because I always end up falling down,” he snarked to Caitlin,
looking warily at the four women forming a circle around him and the ladder.
”Lydia, hey. You look great. Already back to your old size, I see.”
”Dean,” the amazon said, voice cold as ice. “How’s that Christmas bonus working
out for you?”
”Great,” he grinned. “I might buy my homicidal teenage daughter a car.”
The sounds of grating metal grew, as Caitlin, Emma and Sam all climbed faster,
eager to exchange their vulnerable position on the ladder with the chance to
defend themselves - and Dean - on the ground. Debris started falling to the
ground, chunks of brick and bent screws. Dean stepped wide of the trajectory,
straight into Lydia’s space.
“Would you really do it?” he asked her, voice low so no one else could hear.
“Would you kill your own daughter?”
“In a heartbeat,” Lydia replied steadily and moved the knife in her hand in an
underhand strike against Dean’s thigh. Her shoulders had given a slight tell
and he was able to dodge the attack. She drew blood, but didn’t cut his femoral
artery as intended.
“You know what,” Dean said, livid at her admission and attack, “you were a
lousy fuck.” Lydia just smirked at him.
“I was the best you’ve ever had. You’ve been thinking about me every night
since.” She spoke with confidence and she was probably right about being the
best. But not about him thinking of her like that again.
His mouth curled into a half smile, half sneer.
“Get over yourself. I’ve been way too busy to reminisce our little tussle.
Adapting to fatherhood and all.” He glanced up at the ladder where the others
dangled precariously around the first story windows, ready for the thing to
give way. It wasn’t Emma his eyes found, though, nor was it Sam, who he knew
could take care of himself. Caitlin’s eyes met his and he saw courage and
confidence, before terror conquered her face.
“Dean, watch out!” she yelled, and he didn’t think, didn’t turn, just dropped
to the ground and rolled backwards.
Lydia let out a frustrated sound as her knife hit only air instead of cutting
through the insolent hunter’s spine. Then she felt a blade lodge itself beneath
her ribs, hot searing pain ripping through her chest.
“Emma,” she breathed as her legs gave out under her. Her eyes caught the
beautiful form of her daughter, landing easily and ready for battle on the
ground next to the crashing ladder.
“Mother,” Emma gasped and began moving towards them, but darkness reached Lydia
first.
Emma turned her eyes from Lydia’s still form to Dean, and for the first time,
he saw her true form. Her eyes had a reddish tint to them, sunk on hollows of
dark. Despite her murderous look, she was still beautiful. She would never
believe that her mother would have killed her without a second thought. Hell,
he didn’t really believe it himself, their daughter’s name being her last word.
He had failed as a dad completely. ‘Another family drama. How many of us will
walk away from this one?’ Lydia’s blood on his hands felt dirtier, more
slippery than usual. Felt like he wouldn’t be able to wash it off.
Emma stood frozen as her father let go of her mother’s limp body, guilt and
regret and unspoken apology in his eyes, the same green color as her own. Her
mother, who had landed her in this impossible, unfair situation, who had borne
her for just a few days and given her daughter up to the tribe, left her to
deal with the fallout of her mistakes. Her mother who had been waiting here
with the elders, undoubtedly to reassert herself as trustworthy, here to kill
Emma as much as her father. Why did her heart beat so sluggishly in her chest,
why was it so hard to breathe, and why did her eyes sting?
An amazon wearing a long coat the same color as Cas’ favoured trench came at
Dean from his left and he was forced to break eye contact with Emma, to step
back and avoid being pierced by her blade. His foot caught on a piece of brick
and he teetered dangerously close to falling while his attacker recovered. She
easily slashed him across his left shoulder. The gash went deep and his blood
ran freely down his arm and torso. Rage filled him at her arrogance. She should
have slit his throat when she had the chance.
”You shouldn’t play with your prey,” he growled at the monster.
”You think us cruel?” she sneered. "You just murdered Lydia!”
”It was self defense, as is this,” Dean grit out. “Sorry about your girlfriend,
but don’t date the cheating, murderous ones.”
The second Sam hit the ground, a little rough, jarring his ankle, a red headed
amazon tried to put a knife in his back. ‘Right, that never gets old.’ Twisting
around and away, he still received a cut in his side. He pushed her in the back
and watched her tumble forward. Instead of going after her, he scanned the
scene before him. Dean was getting his ass handed to him but he looked beyond
pissed so that was probably about to change.
Lucifer was leaning on the wall, observing along with Sam.
“I’ll holler if someone needs help, shall I?” the hallucination told Sam
helpfully, trademark self satisfied smirk in place. ‘Not real, not real, nor
real,’ Sam kept the mantra going, terrified of making the mistake of listening
to Lucifer at a crucial moment.
“C’mon Sammy,” the not-there fallen angel pouted. “We could be a team. I could
be useful.” Something moved next to Sam and he jumped forward clumsily,
narrowly avoiding the redhead’s attack, but left open to the follow-up.
A blonde with a blade raised and ready to strike, stood at the spot Caitlin’s
arc through the air would land her as the ladder finally gave up. Caitlin
pushed herself as far away as she could, bracing herself as her additional
sideways momentum screwed up her chance of a smooth landing. Not getting
skewered on the blonde’s blade before touching the ground, Caitlin still
counted it as a success, when she tumbled to the ground without the
accompanying sound of snapping bones. She’d be fine, if she could just pull
some air back into her lungs. While she gasped for breath, the blonde suddenly
straddled her, the blade cutting through the air, aimed at Caitlin’s windpipe.
***** Monster within *****
Dean feinted an attack with his knife and kicked the trench coated amazon in
the knee, then swung his knife in a wide arc while she fell forward, his left
hand loosely grasping her forearm and keeping her blade away from him. His
knife broke through the top of her skull with a sickening crunch and lodged
itself deeply in her brain. Her eyes rolled back and her whole body cramped up
in violent seizures, before she fell to the ground, dead. He bent to retrieve
the knife, only to almost hear his father’s berating voice, the memory sparking
the old anger, loss and fear. “You don’t stab and cut all the way through the
bone. Way to lose your weapon, smartass.” Dean yanked hard but instead of
coming loose, the knife broke near the handle. Useless. He threw it away and
picked up the amazon’s blade.
Dean scanned his surroundings: Emma still stood, silent, simply watching, no
one close by. Caitlin was off the grid, but there was Sam, narrowly dodging an
attack and fumbling his footing. Ice burned as hot coal in his gut, as he
sprinted towards his brother, still yards away as the amazon’s blade raced
towards its target. Dean threw the stolen blade at her, speed before accuracy,
and got her in the shoulder. Sam recovered with a grateful look in Dean’s
direction and ended his attacker, thrusting his knife between her ribs and into
her heart.
Caitlin caught the amazon’s arm in the last possible instant before the knife
could cut her throat. Simultaneously deflecting the strike and bucking up, she
nearly dislodged her attacker. The amazon didn’t try again, let go of the
knife, to hold Caitlin down in a strong grip.
Caitlin regarded the amazon, searching her face for traces of humanity, of
mercy. At first it had looked like a woman but now Caitlin could see clearer.
The differences were subtle but many; reddish eyes almost glowing, shadows
obscuring the face into something feral. The creature didn’t move, and
Caitlin’s breathing finally eased up.
“Too bad you’re not one of us,” the amazon whispered with a mocking hiss. “You
have the courage but lack the strength.”
“There’s no strength in killing, when you kill for the sake of violence alone.
There’s only defeat to come,” Caitlin told her. ‘Jesus, what a load of crap,
she’ll never buy into it.’
“Stalling, sweetheart?” the amazon sneered.
Caitlin’s ears filled with a roaring sound, as she once again shifted her
weight and bucked under the amazon. Mere milliseconds later, Caitlin was
holding the amazon down. Caitlin leaned down to hiss into its ear.
“Never ever call me that. I’m not. Not yours or anyone else’s sweetheart.”
The amazon fought to throw Caitlin off of her and get free, but Caitlin held on
tight.
She raised her head in time to see Dean walking towards her, smiling wistfully.

“You good?”
“I’m fine. Dean, you’re bleeding!”
“It’s nothing.” He bent down to pick the knife from the ground. “Move over,” he
told Caitlin and slid the knife through flesh and sinews, neatly piercing the
amazon’s heart with the practiced ease of years and years of hunting and
killing. Caitlin stood up, eyes wide, backing away from him. Dean watched with
only a hint of apology in his eyes. Showing her who he really was might be the
step back Sam had asked for.
Emma watched the members of the tribe fall around her. Watched her father, as
he killed them, one after the other, the way she should have killed him, if she
had only had the chance. If he had been an amazon, he would have been one of
their best, their strongest. Her awe gave way to fear; no way he was going to
let her live. She made her feet move, one after the other, faster and faster.
“Emma!” her uncle called after her, and she quickened her steps. She heard a
loud bang and a sharp pain erupted in her back. Her legs didn’t work and she
fell. She gasped for breath, and tasted blood in her mouth. It was cold,
getting colder, but far above her, she could see a bit of clear sky, stars
shining, too far away to care. She heard running footsteps, and the stars
disappeared behind her father’s face. His hands ghosted over her face and
shoulders, small soothing touches, a kind of touch she had never known in her
short life.
“Emma,” he said, voice cracked and broken, eyes shining with tears. “Emma, hang
on. We’ll get you some help, you’ll be fine.” He turned, looked away from her,
letting the stars back.
“Sam, call an ambulance, god dammit!” he yelled, and then he was back and it
was raining. No, he was crying, tears falling on her face. It hurt and it was
so cold, but he was cradling her and telling her to hold on. She forced her
mouth and tongue to move.
“Da… Dad,” she managed, and let go.
Dean carefully laid his daughter to rest on the hard concrete and stood to face
his brother.
“What the hell, Sam? What the fucking hell? Did he tell you to shoot her? What
were you thinking?”
“We should go, before the police gets here.” Sam met his furious, grief
stricken stare head on. Dean’s shoulders slumped, but he began the heavy walk
to the car. Reaching the vehicle, he realized the keys weren’t in his pocket.
“Caitlin! You need to come, if you don’t want to spend the night in jail. You
can run away screaming later,” Dean called softly to her. She was standing next
to Emma’s body, hugging herself, flinching at his words. Still, she came and
handed Dean the keys, sliding into the backseat without a word.
Peeling away from the curb, Dean spoke quietly.
“Answers, Sam. You better have some.” Sam flinched minutely at Dean’s tone. No
one knew better than Sam that Dean wasn’t dangerous when he was shouting and
blustering. It was when he turned soft and quiet you had to be careful. Lucifer
laughed loudly from where he was sitting next to Caitlin in the back.
“So much for bros before hoes, Sammyboy,” Lucifer grinned. “Now you’ll find out
how big brother really feels about you.” Sam wrenched his eyes from the
hallucination and forced himself to speak.
“She ran. I didn’t want us to spend weeks tracking her down later.”
“Sam what the ever living fuck? She warned us, she didn’t try to kill anyone,
she never killed anyone. How do you justify gunning her down like that?”
“She was a monster.”
“She had a choice! And you took it away from her!”
“The way you took away Amy’s choice?”
“Amy made her choice, and you failed to kill her. I’m only sorry I didn’t tell
you.”
“She was protecting her kid. She was done, she was never going to do it again.”
“Sammy, she made her choice. I sent that kid on his way, and told him never to
kill anyone.” Dean turned off the main road and stopped at the curb so he
didn’t have to watch the road, before continuing softly. “Emma should have had
the same chance.”
“I don’t think she would have adapted.” Sam didn’t back down from his brother’s
glistening eyes. “She only helped us because she had no other choice but to die
herself. Not once did she show any sign of giving a fuck about human lives.
Remember when you asked her about Caitlin?”
“So, when you seemed to be going completely dark side, and got revved up on
demon blood, I should have shot you? I was wrong to trust you? I shouldn’t have
let you save the world, Sam?” Dean’s tone was hushed, and when he fell silent
his jaw clenched several times. Sam shifted his gaze to stare at the empty road
ahead.
“Maybe, if she hadn’t been your daughter, I would have given her a chance.”
Sam’s eyes flicked up to Dean’s incredulous stare, before returning to the dark
asphalt. “How do you think I felt about myself, when I found out what Amy had
done? I know this hurts, and you can hate me all you want for killing Emma. But
at least you’re not hating yourself the way you would have, if she killed
someone else someday.”
Dean’s hands held the wheel in a white knuckled grip, while he stared ahead of
him. Then he opened the door and scrambled out of the car, slamming the door
hard behind him. He walked a few yards along the sidewalk, and came to a halt
in front of a flower bed with sleeping red and white and yellow roses. When a
car door opened, he turned to tell Sam to fuck off and leave him alone. The
words died in his mouth when he saw Caitlin walking slowly towards him.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “You shouldn’t have had to fight, and listen to me ‘n
Sam fight. We’ll find you a motel and set you up for the rest of the week.”
Caitlin said nothing, but continued until she was standing right in front of
him, close enough that he could smell her shampoo.
“I’m fine,” she said. She opened her mouth again, but no words came. Then she
carefully lifted the fabric of his shirt and looked at the wound in his
shoulder.
“I’ll have to stitch you up,” she said, before she gently wrapped her arms
around his shoulders and drew him into a soft hug, ignoring the blood on his
clothes.
She threaded a hand through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, and held
onto him tightly. Dean put his arms around her loosely, and focused on
breathing in the scent of her, of feeling her nose nuzzle against his
collarbone.
“He loves you so much,” she half whispered into his ear. “He would rather have
you hate him than watch you hate yourself.” Dean hugged her closer.
“I know. The things he’s done for me...” Dean’s whisper was barely audible.
Caitlin drew in a breath, as if to speak.
“Please,” Dean murmured. “Don’t wanna talk about it.” Caitlin relaxed back into
the embrace and looked up into his face, all his unshed tears still hiding
behind his eyelids. Broken. Broken, battered and bruised. Beautiful. Deadly.
Dangerous.
Their lips met, and she couldn’t tell who had closed the distance between them.
She had never been kissed like this, raw emotion rather than sexual desire,
soft and caring yet bleeding desperation and need for comfort.
***** Missing *****
Chapter Notes
     Okay guys, I really hate to do this, but I need some motivation. My
     beta is off enjoying real life (and boy am I cheering for her, she
     deserves every good thing that happens to her), but here I am, all
     alone and not sure if I'm the only one thinking this story is worth
     spending time on. Please comment. Constructive criticism is welcome
     too, since well... beta-less. :)
     “I’m telling you, officer, there are people dying in the street,”
     Mrs. Davies sobbed into the phone. There were bodies littered in the
     alley under her, all the handiwork of the men that had stayed with
     Ms. Smith. Then the sound of a gunshot echoed between the brick
     walls, and suddenly the officer was a lot more accommodating. “Oh
     God,” she said to him, coherency left far behind. “They’re taking her
     with them. Poor Ms. Smith.”
Dean reluctantly pulled away from Caitlin. She looked calm, but there were tear
streaks on her face.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“What? Shouldn’t I be saying that?” Dean traced her tears, his touch so soft
she barely felt it.
“I’m not stupid, you know,” she told him. “I know what you were doing with that
amazon, what it is you need now. And I’m sorry, because... I can’t give you
that.”
“Caitlin, no, it’s fine. I don’t… I’m not… I…”
He looked at her disbelievingly, as she began to laugh. Easy, heartfelt,
ringing laughter.
“I can’t believe we kissed and I didn’t even freak out,” she said, still
smiling, and Dean couldn’t help beaming back at her.
“I am an excellent kisser,” he chuckled. Caitlin sobered a little.
“I wouldn’t really know, but I suppose so.”
Dean rested his hand on her cheek, and she accepted his touch, leaned into it.
“What happened to you?” he nearly whispered. Caitlin pulled away.
“Dean, don’t. Just… Let’s get you patched up and find you someplace to score,
right?” She looked at him pleadingly, and his eyes widened in shock.
“What? No!” He broke eye contact, looking around unseeingly. “Let’s just get
back to the car, find somewhere to hole up until the police clears out.”
They changed cars twice before they found a motel down in Delridge. Instead of
checking in, they chose a room furthest from the office with no outwards signs
of being already taken. Dean picked the lock ever so slowly, making almost no
sound at all. As the door swung open and revealed a typical unused motel room,
he sighed with relief.
Their meager belongings dragged inside, Dean looked at Sam grudgingly. They
hadn’t spoken one word to each other since their argument.
“You need this?” Dean asked, holding up the emergency kit. Sam felt his side,
wincing at the sting but the blood was mostly dry.
“Nah, I’m good, you go first,” he replied, studying the ugly carpet instead of
meeting his brother’s eyes. Dean’s eyes bored into him and then he shrugged.
“Suit yourself.” He went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with an
ominous click. Sam sighed and sat down on the queen farthest from the door, his
by force of habit.
“What’s he doing?” Caitlin asked Sam, frowning at the exchange.
“Patching himself up,” Sam answered, lying down on top of the comforter. He
closed his eyes for a second, but quickly opened them again, sick of the fire
and pain that awaited him behind his eyelids.
“With an almost resident doctor in the room? Is he retarded?” Caitlin sputtered
and Sam burst out a quick laugh.
“You askin’ or tellin’?” he simply said, and Caitlin laughed with him, before
knocking on the door to the bathroom. Sam shook his head and turned on the tiny
TV.
“What?” Dean barked at the intrusion, but deflated somewhat when Caitlin opened
the door a fraction and peered inside.
“Dean, don’t you even think for a second I’ll let you do your stitches
yourself.”
“What?!” he said again, confusion winning over disbelief.
“Doctor, remember?” she admonished. Dean broke out his widest grin.
“You wanna play doctor with me?” he asked and waggled his eyebrows. Caitlin’s
eyebrows rose in response, her face carefully neutral, until she broke down
laughing.
“God, Dean, you’re incorrigible!”
He continued to smile, his eyes trained at her with a warm, fond expression.
She opened the emergency kit and her laughter died.
“Dental floss? Are you guys insane?”
“We did not have any problems getting into a mental institution for a hunt.
That’s the only answer, I’ll give you.”
“Great. Just great. Now strip,” Caitlin commanded, and Dean reluctantly removed
his plaid and shirt, hissing at the pain and favoring his arm.
The gash was deep and still oozing blood, even now, hours later. Caitlin
swallowed. Of course she had seen far worse at the hospital, but she had also
seen far less; and people with injuries far less severe didn’t usually drive to
the ER themselves. Here was Dean, ready to sew himself back together in a
decidedly non-sterile motel bathroom. The bottle of Jack in the emergency kit
made a lot more sense now. She unscrewed the cap.
“I suppose the usual procedure for motel surgery is to drink first and
disinfect after?” she said and held the bottle out to him. He nodded and took a
few swigs, grimacing at the burn. She took it back and gave him a concerned
look before pouring a liberal amount over the wound. Dean held his breath to
keep from gasping, eyes squeezed shut from pain.
“Breathe, Dean. Come on take a deep breath,” Caitlin told him. He took a deep
breath, shaking a little. “That’s better. Now just keep breathing, and I’ll be
done real quick.” Dean gave a mirthless smile.
“Stop babying me, Doc.”
Instead of answering, she started sewing, ignoring the hitches in his breath
when she pushed the needle through skin and flesh. The expanses of his bare
chest and back were laid out before her, freckled skin and muscle tone, pale in
the sickly yellow light of the bathroom. There were so many scars; how often
had he sat in motel bathrooms and stitched himself back up? Her fingers
twitched with want, as she tightened the thread. If her fingers could just
glide across all that skin, feel him, touch without hurting, touch to heal. Her
mind stuttered and caught up with her hands’ ideas. ‘Do you want him to hurt
you?’ She aggressively tied off the final knot and looked him over critically.
“Was that it?” she asked, ready to get out of the cramped bathroom. Dean shook
his head.
“You might want to let me take care of the rest on my own, though,” he said,
glancing at her worriedly. She followed his gaze down between his legs, where
his pants were torn and splashed with the rusty color of dried blood, less than
ten inches from his crotch. With her heart pounding, she looked back up at him.
“How do you think this doctor thing works, exactly? It’s all or nothing. I knew
that from the start.” She readied another thread and cleaned the needle in the
Jack D, keeping her back to him as best she could in the small room. Dean saw
her hands shaking anyway.
“Just let me do it,” he pleaded. “I know you can, but you don’t have to this
time. Please?”
Biting her lip, Caitlin shook her head stubbornly. Then she kept her eyes on
Dean’s as she slowly unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. Careful not
to drag his boxers down along with them, she pushed them down, out of the way.
The cut was shallow but long. Had it been somewhere else, it could have been
taken care of with butterfly band-aids, but here the friction of clothes would
tear those off within an hour. She sighed and gave Dean the bottle of Jack
again. This time he only took a small sip, before handing it back. Caitlin
slouched it freely on the wound and Dean welcomed the pain, distracting him
from her kneeling position in front of him, and the way her tongue peeked out
the side of her mouth as she focused on her task.
The needle bit hard into his skin, but the sting couldn’t stop the automatic
physiologic response to the tableau they made. Dean was bracing himself, one
hand on the door frame, one on the sink. His foot rested on the toilet seat,
giving Caitlin room to work. Wearing only his boxer briefs he had nowhere to
hide. ‘Shifterskin. Severed vampire heads. Hell hounds. Jo. Fuck. Smell of
burning wendigo. Rugaru. Amy. Emma. Shit. Sulphur. Soap. Roman. Bobby. Stop.
Hurts too much. Salads - yuck, really Sam. Sam!! No, not that now. ARGH!! Tofu-
burger, tofu-burger, tofu-burger - bwarh.’ Dean bit his cheek and watched
Caitlin work. She was careful not to touch him unnecessarily but occasionally
her hand would brush against his uninjured leg.
Tying off the final knot, Caitlin raised her head to tell Dean it was over. Her
eyes caught on the bulge in Dean’s boxers and her mouth went dry, too dry for
her to speak or swallow. Instinctively she tried to move farther away, and
nearly fell into the bathtub. Righting herself, she saw Dean’s face; not
smirking or laughing at her, but eyes shut tightly, his mouth moving fast with
no sound. The tension melted out of her body. ‘This is Dean, nothing to worry
about.’
“What are you whispering about?” she asked him, smiling at his obvious
discomfort.
“I’m practicing the exorcism backwards,” he grumbled, opening his eyes. “You
done yet?”
“Yeah. I’d better have a look at Sam, too.”
Sam jumped a little and turned off the TV as soon as Caitlin exited the
bathroom, carrying the emergency kit with her.
“How is he?”
“Horny and hurting, but in that order, I think,” she smiled.
“Good, great,” Sam nodded. “Uhm, you want to take a look at this?” he asked her
hesitantly, pointing at the maroon discoloration at his side.
“Of course, scoot over a bit.”
Sam declined the whiskey and barely flinched when she disinfected the wound. He
sat quietly, peacefully, while she worked. The door to the bathroom opened when
she had closed the gash halfway. Dean barely glanced their way, before throwing
himself on the other bed, with a groan. Ignoring his pity party, Caitlin pushed
the needle through again. Sam kept staring at some spot at the green checkered
wallpaper, completely oblivious.
“Sam, what.. how.. aren’t you feeling any pain?” she asked worriedly.
“Oh, yeah… Sorry,” he answered, smiling softly at her. “It’s just… it’s not
enough to bother me, that’s all.” Something resembling a growl, or maybe a sob,
sounded from the other bed, and Caitlin saw Dean’s knuckles white from gripping
the pillow, his face was currently buried in.
“Just finish up,” Sam murmured, sad eyes resting on his brother. Caitlin
complied, a little creeped out by Sam’s lack of response to the pain. When it
was done, and she had put away the kit, Sam spoke again, loud enough for Dean
to hear him.
“You need to see this. We’re in trouble. Even more trouble, that is.” He
fumbled for the remote and turned the TV back on. Dean got up to stand behind
Caitlin next to Sam’s bed. The News were on, and there were footage from the
street below Caitlin’s apartment, police tape and clue markers flapping in the
wind.
     “Five women were found dead in this alley earlier this evening.
     Police has so far been unable to identify any of the victims.
     Officer, what can you tell us about this massacre?”
     “Nothing. Not a goddamned thing. Now go away and let me do my job in
     peace.”
     “The police is keeping everything carefully under wraps, unwilling to
     share any more details with the press. We at the network speculate
     that this is tied to the human trafficking ring that was exposed six
     months ago.”
     The camera panned over to an elderly lady standing next to the shut
     off area.
     “Mrs. Davies witnessed the fight from her apartment. Can you tell us
     what you saw?”
     Mrs. Davies sipped thirstily from a plastic cup, undoubtedly
     something alcoholic.
     “It was horrible. There was this loud grating noise, and I went to
     the window to yell at whoever was making it to just stop, but when I
     looked down, it was the fire escape falling down. And there were
     people down there, with knives. I saw the glint of the streetlights
     reflect on the blades.” The old woman paused to drink again,
     shuddering - maybe at the taste, maybe at the memory.
     “Why did the fire escape fall down?” the reporter prompted her.
     “Well, it couldn’t carry all the people climbing down, of course.
     They should really sue, what if it had been a real fire? What if they
     had gotten hurt when they fell?”
     “How many climbed down?”
     “There was Ms. Smith, she’s my neighbor, lovely young girl, very
     quiet, and the two mystery men that was staying with her this week,
     and the shorter one’s daughter. Ms. Smith never brought anyone home
     before this, never. So sad.”
     “Why was it sad?”
     “Well, they took her! Made her climb down that awful ladder and get
     in a car after fighting those people.”
     “Can you tell us more about this child?”
     “She was a pretty little thing, probably thirteen to fifteen years
     old. ”
     “Did the girl leave with the others?”
     “No. No. That poor thing was shot when she tried to run. I guess
     that’s why Ms. Smith didn’t try to get away.” Tears ran down the old
     woman’s face, and she emptied the contents of her cup.
     “Thank you Mrs. Davies,” the reporter said quietly. “Back to the
     studio.”
     “Thank you, Jim. The police has put out an APB for Caitlin Smith, the
     neighbor in question. Please call this number, if you see the woman
     in the picture.”
There was a picture. Caitlin, with her hair loosely framing her face. She was
looking more down than into the camera, unsmiling. It had been taken when she
started at the hospital, but she had talked them out of putting it online with
the other employees, spinning a tale about an abusive ex-boyfriend. Apparently
they had had no qualms about giving the photo to the police, and they in turn
had given it to the media.
***** Closing in *****
     Mrs. Davies’ doorbell rang at 4am, the morning after the dramatic
     events in the alley outside. She had been talking to police and
     reporters until 1am, and she was now firmly in favor of staying
     unconscious until her hangover lifted. The doorbell rang again.
     “Come back in six hours,” she yelled, and hid her head under her
     pillow. It couldn’t muffle the sound of the doorbell being pushed
     continuously. Finally she gave in, ranting angrily about spoiled
     brats with no respect for the elderly.
     She was so upset she threw the door right open without even checking
     who was there. A pair of policemen stood outside, looking apologetic.
     “We regret to have to disturb you this early,” one with blond hair
     and blue eyes began.
     “But something has come up. We need to ask you a few more questions
     about the men you say stayed in the apartment next door,” the other
     one, dark brown skin and almond eyes, continued. Then he held out a
     brown paper bag from the local bakery and the other one produced a
     large plastic cup, smelling enticingly of coffee.
     She closed her robe around her a bit tighter, and motioned them
     inside. When they were seated at the dining table, and she had a
     donut in one hand, and the steaming coffee in the other, she sighed
     and looked at them.
     “Ask,” she said. The blond officer produced a photo album with
     mugshots.
     “We’d just like to know, if you can recognize the two men somewhere
     in here.”
     Mrs. Davies sipped her coffee and flipped slowly through the pages.
     Could she ask to be payed for this? Her eyebrows shut up at a
     particularly aesthetically pleasing face looking back at her from the
     pages. Probably not. She flipped again, and gasped.
     “There,” she said, pointing. “That’s the short one, and that’s the
     tall one. His hair is a bit longer now.” She stared at the labels.
     “Winchester? Wasn’t there something a while back…?”
     The two men nodded at each other, and suddenly the amiable way they
     held themselves changed. Mrs. Davies wasn’t sure what to make of
     their expressions except maybe… hunger? Did she even remember to
     check their badges?
     “So they were here. For days. Think they’ll come back?” The dark one
     said to his partner, completely ignoring Mrs. Davies.
     “Sounds like they left in a hurry. Might have left something behind.
     We’ll scope the place.” Then the blond cop looked at her and grinned,
     and her blood ran cold. “Let’s share her.”
     When their faces became nothing but two giant mouths, Mrs. Davies
     fainted. By the time her hangover would have been gone, all that was
     left of her was a dark red splotch on the carpet.
Dean grabbed the remote, turned the TV off and hurled the remote at the far off
wall.
“Fuck!” His shoulders were hunched and his face looked as if it was stretched
thin. He pointedly avoided facing in Sam’s direction. Sam held his breath,
while Lucifer told him to buckle up for a beating. Poor girl, Mrs. Davies had
said. Poor Emma. Little monster girl. The explosion of rage, grief and violence
never came. Dean took several deep breaths, his fists clenched tightly against
his thighs. When he spoke, he still ignored Sam and addressed Caitlin.
“We’re not going to find the rest of the tribe in this city anyway. You can
feed the cops a bullshit story about us kidnapping you, after we skip town.”
“What?” Caitlin’s voice sounded weak, childish. The room spun, and she sat down
on the closest surface, the bed she and Dean would be sharing. ‘Breathe, just
breathe,’ her mind told her, but she couldn’t.
“You could be back at the hospital, living your dream again next week,” Dean
argued. Her vision was getting blurry.
“No. I can’t. That was my picture! On the news!” It came out as a squeaky
whisper instead of a yell. ‘Breathe, come on.’
The brothers stared at her, bewildered.
“Don’t you see? They’ll find me.” She couldn’t get enough air, she was dying
again and no one was even trying to strangle her. No one but her past. “I can’t
stay here.” Suddenly Dean was in front of her, holding a bag out to her.
“Breathe, Caitlin,” he told her and she grabbed it and did as told. It was
plastic, and the air in it tasted like rotten tomatoes and made her gag a
little. She didn’t pull it away. Dean rested his hands on her shoulders, his
thumbs drawing little circles on the fabric of her shirt. Some time later, she
let the bag fall to the floor, and threw herself at Dean so hard he nearly
toppled over. As soon as he found his balance, he wrapped his arms around her
and held her.
It took time, but eventually Dean felt Caitlin’s breathing slow to almost
normal. He gently disentangled himself and sat down next to her on the bed, an
arm slung around her shoulders. She kept staring at the floor as if she could
drill holes with thought alone.
“I know it sucks,” he tried carefully, “but why is it so awful that they think
we took you? Not being a suspect will make it so much easier for you to go
back.”
“Remember what you asked me last night?” She didn’t move her eyes from the
floor. Dean nodded. ‘Is he alive? The guy responsible for your trust issues?’
He should have kept his mouth shut.
“I don’t know,” she then said, and he had to think hard to understand, helped
along as she spoke again. “I don’t know but if… I’m afraid they’ll come for
me.” Caitlin stood up and went to the small kitchenette, opening and closing
the mini fridge several times. ‘Of course,’ Dean thought, ‘if the bastard was
still alive, she’d be afraid he’d… wait, they?!’
“Shit, Caitlin,” Dean gasped, his gut churning at the realization.
Her cheeks burned as she moved around aimlessly. Maybe she should just put on
her shoes and get out of there. She’d cut her hair in a public bathroom
somewhere, color it purple to distract, and jump a greyhound out of there.
Sam finally found Dean’s eyes, earlier apprehension forgotten, and nodded. That
was all the communication they needed. Decision made.
“Caitlin, hold up a minute,” Dean said, frowning as she ignored him and
continued to pace around. He stood up to intercept her. She wouldn’t meet his
eyes, so he spoke to her hair instead. “You’re coming with us until you feel
safe again. Then you can transfer to another hospital, get settled and finish
that doctor shit.” Her eyes flew to his and a hysterical giggle escaped her.
“Doctor shit?” she asked incredulously. Dean just waved a hand at her, as if to
say ‘whatever it is you call it.’
She looked to Sam, who nodded solemnly.
“Honestly, it’ll be nice having someone else to share the load with,” Sam said.
“She’s not hunting, Sammy,” Dean said, whirling on his brother.
“Oh no, definitely not. I was talking about spending all day in the car with
your ass.” Dean narrowed his eyes.
“Guess who just lost shotgun privilege.”
“At least the music isn’t so loud in the back,” Sam shot back with a grin. Dean
regarded him for a moment, his expression still closed off, but in the end he
offered Sam a half smile in return.
“Bitch.” Mentally Sam fist pumped and told Lucifer ‘In your face.’ Dean wasn’t
done giving him a hard time over his decision to kill Emma, but Sam would be
forgiven eventually. If only he could forgive himself...
“Are we just leaving now or could I maybe… I mean, there’s a few things back at
the apartment…” Caitlin floundered. Sam gave Dean the “we need to get out of
here”-look, but Dean knew what Caitlin was talking about. Photos of a smiling
woman, a soldier, and of a girl with pigtails. A picture of a headstone.
“We’ll get a good night’s sleep, try to sneak in tomorrow, and then we’re outta
here,” he said, ignoring Sam’s outraged “don’t fucking just ignore me”-look.
When Caitlin went to the bathroom a little later, Dean tried to explain.
“Sammy, she’s lived here for years, and she had what? Five minutes to decide
what to bring down a fire escape and into a raging battle. She’s not like us. I
know you’re right, but I…”
“You’re still too close. And now she’s coming with us,” Sam said resignedly.
“Look, Dean, I’m happy for the both of you, but I foresee one hell of a
shitstorm.”
“I know, this’ll go badly but… wait, what? Happy for us? What are you talking
about?” Dean stood up, arms thrown wide. “Jesus Christ, Sam, we’re just
friends.” Sam’s eyes widened.
“So you’re not?” He made an aborted gesture with his hands, unable to continue.
Dean’s knowing grin confirmed that he was blushing.
“No, we’re not that close.” Dean said, smiling.
Sam’s eyes narrowed.
“Dean, you were necking each other less than ten yards from the car.” Dean
scratched his neck, avoiding Sam’s eyes.
“Pretty sure that was a one time thing.” He re-opened the emergency kit and
took the bottle of whiskey, continuing as he unscrewed it, “she seems to think
I need to get laid to deal with… you know.” ‘Emma.’ “But she’s not offering, if
you had any doubts. Girl’s got class.” He drank deeply, grimaced and sighed.
“Like I use sex to deal with shit. I guess she’s a little crazy, huh?” He
offered the bottle to Sam, who ignored it.
“Really?” Sam smiled. “My money would be on ‘perceptive’. Sounds like she’s got
your number.” Dean huffed a laugh and took another swig.
“You’re forgetting that I’m flexible. This is a perfectly acceptable coping
method as well,” he said and went for another mouthful.
The door opened and Caitlin came out.
“You better stop now or sleep on the floor, mister,” she told Dean, as she
noticed the sunken contents of the bottle. Sam covered his mouth with his hand,
gasping with suppressed mirth, while Dean looked like a kid who’s ice cream was
melting on the ground.
Later, Sam lay awake as Dean and Caitlin shared the other bed, simply lying
peacefully wrapped up in each other, as they had been that first night Sam
caught them. No matter what suggestive remarks and lewd faces Lucifer made,
Dean’s earlier comment remained true. Not that close, but maybe this was
closer. Worse. Lucifer guffawed at Sam, when he silently prayed that Caitlin
wouldn’t die on his brother like everyone else seemed to do. Between the gentle
snoring from the other bed, and the hallucination’s indecencies, Sam didn’t get
much sleep.
***** Even the best laid plans *****
Chapter Notes
     Just making sure you've seen the warnings in the tags for past child
     abuse and rape/non con. Alright, proceed if you're okay with that.
     Also, the first drabble in the 'Extras and Outtakes' can be read now
     without any spoilers.
Dean woke up to light filtering through the yellowed curtains, Caitlin still a
warm weight in his arms. For a few minutes he simply watched her face, relaxed
in sleep, making her look… whole. His head thudded rhythmically in time with
his heartbeat. Goddamn it, he hadn’t had enough to drink to numb anything and
yet here was the hangover, just because miss prissy wouldn’t bedshare with a
happy drunk. Yeah, okay, maybe not happy. His boxers were tented as if to say
‘and she didn’t put out either,’ but now he was just being an asshole. He shut
his eyes and breathed deeply.
The next time he opened his eyes, the shadows beneath the window had moved and
Caitlin was watching him quietly. Her arm was slung across his bicep, her hand
softly touching the hairs at the nape of his neck. The touch was devoid of
anything sexual, but it would be lying to call it friendly. ‘Affectionate.’ It
took him awhile to think of that word, it wasn’t part of his everyday
vocabulary.
Her expression was serious, observant. He smiled halfway and began to take
stock of where his limbs were hiding out. One arm looped around her waist, hand
reflexively gripping and loosening around a chunk of her hair. Huh. One leg
pressed between hers. Oops. Morning wood still firmly in place. Fuck. He had no
idea how to disentangle himself without her noticing.
Caitlin smiled knowingly, and pushed herself away from him, hogging the
bathroom before he could open his mouth. He was in half a mind to hurriedly
take care of business when he caught Sam looking at him, sitting with his
laptop over in his bed, smirking. Dean gave him his best ‘I’m your big brother
and don’t you dare give me any shit’-look, before getting dressed, adjusting
his dick to be as unobtrusive as possible. This was going to be a long day.
Being the least banged-up and his face not being all over the news, Sam
resigned himself to get breakfast. All three of them ate in the car,
conversation slow and with no real substance. Lucifer appeared bored out of his
mind with it and Sam’s donut turned into a bleeding, beating heart. He closed
his eyes and bit into it anyway, fuck it all. It tasted like a donut. Today was
going to be a good day.
There was no police present when they parked across from Caitlin’s old home.
Dean didn’t like it. When they reached the fourth floor and still hadn’t had
any trouble, dislike had turned into a bright red flag. He was on his way to
Caitlin’s apartment, when she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“We have to talk to Mrs. Davies first. Explain that I’m fine.”
“What the hell? NO!”
“You don’t think she’s looking at us right now? How many seconds do we have
before she calls the police, if we don’t talk to her?”
“Dammit Caitlin, stop being fucking right, this shit ain’t funny.”
Sam turned his back on their bickering and rang the old lady’s doorbell. She
didn’t answer. Caitlin gently pushed him out of the way.
“Mrs. Davies, it’s okay. I just wanted to tell you that I’m fine. I’m sorry
about last night, that was really crazy, huh? But I’m fine, I’m going away for
a bit. Just here to get some stuff I left behind. Could you please just let me
know you’re there?”
The silence behind the door was deafening. Caitlin couldn’t explain why she
tried the handle, she didn’t want to scare her neighbor or invade her space,
even if Mrs. Davies didn’t particularly give a damn about anyone else’s
privacy. When the door opened easily to show an empty hallway, her heart became
a jackhammer in her chest. The brothers exchanged quick glances and pushed
Caitlin behind them, as they slowly advanced into the apartment, guns pointing,
looking for all the world like professionals. Which they were, of course, just
not soldiers or S.W.A.T. They were hunters.
Caitlin followed on silent feet, the silver knife ready, her eyes darting
everywhere at once. She had only been here a few times for tea (heavily spiked
with rum), but something wasn’t right in the living room. When the brothers
signaled that the apartment was clear, Caitlin slowly lifted the hallway rug
from the living room floor with shaking hands. A sob escaped her at the sight
of the blood hidden underneath.
“Well fuck,” Dean muttered and Sam put a comforting hand on Caitlin’s shoulder.
     They were monsters. Hungry predators. Invincible. Devious. They had
     found plenty of DNA in the girl’s apartment. Enough to know what the
     Winchesters had been up to since the last time. Enough to know
     everything there was to know about the girl. They didn’t get off on
     sex and definitely not with their own food; but they loved to play
     with their food, to spice up their meat with the taste of fear. They
     really really hoped the Winchesters would show up. They really hoped
     the girl would be with them.
     “Are you sure we should put these on? The orders were not to give
     reason for any more press coverage for those chuckleheads,” Dean
     said, shaking his shoulders a little uncomfortably. It was a cool
     enough shape, but he didn’t want to get into trouble for using it.
     “There’ll be no press coverage, idiot. We’ll make a clean kill,” Sam
     said, standing up straight. Then he put a hand to his temple. “Jeez,
     this melon is disturbingly cracked,” he added with a shudder.
     Something rattled by the door, and moments later the handle turned.
     They were ready.
Dean turned the handle and kicked in the door. He and Sam entered the
apartment, once again in S.W.A.T.-mode as Caitlin had already silently named
it. She followed after them, clutching the bottle of dishwashing soap they had
found in Mrs. Davies kitchen tightly.
“Oh great, again. How original. You guys have no idea how many times I’ve
killed myself, have you?” Dean said from the living room. Caitlin frowned and
moved forward. ‘What the fuck?’
Dean came into view, and answered his own question.
“This isn’t for you, dumbass. Gonna have some fun with your girlfriend.”
A shot rang out, Dean stumbled half a step backwards and icky black blossomed
at his chest. Caitlin couldn’t even scream, before he started chuckling.
“You know that only tickles.”
Then Dean’s voice sounded, even though his mouth wasn’t moving.
“Caitlin! We need your help in here.” She didn’t even think before running
forward, only to stop dead in her tracks when confronted with a second Dean.
Her Dean, the Dean that had called out to her. Those monsters really could look
like anyone, because yep, there was Sam, being restrained by Sam.
Caitlin did as planned and doused the fake Dean in soap. His skin burned and
shriveled, and the condescending smile left his face, as he gasped in agony.
The real Dean swung his appropriated meat cleaver to decapitate the leviathan.
Only it ducked backwards and drew a gun. Dean was going to rush it again
anyway. Only it pointed the gun at Caitlin.
Later
“I have to say,” the leviathan currently posing as Dean gloated, “you’ve been
causing us a lot of trouble. We expected more of a fight.” He looked over to
where the Winchesters were kneeling, facing the wall with their hands bound at
their backs. The girl was tied to a chair at the dining table. Another team of
leviathans was on its way; capturing and killing the Winchesters had become so
important that the accomplishment needed to be verified before they could claim
it. The captives all sat in sullen silence. The two leviathans nodded at each
other. Time to spice up the meat.
Leviathan-Dean’s skin was still burning and he probably looked like something
out of a horror movie, but he moved to stand close behind the girl and grabbed
her hair, to pull her head backwards and expose her throat. He licked a line
from her collarbone to her ear.
“Ready for some fun?” He gave his partner across the table a cheshire cat grin.
When he let go of Caitlin’s hair, she turned her head and spat in his face. His
grin got impossibly wider.
The slap zinged over her cheek, old familiar pain, and then the monster spoke
in a tone belonging right there with the pain.
“Shouldn’t have done that, sweetheart. You know what’s gonna happen next.” She
fought the strip binding her to the chair, fought so hard blood trickled over
her hands. The pain helped. They’d lock her in a room and they’d hold her down;
they didn’t tie her up. She couldn’t cook for them while being tied up.
Dean heard the whisper of his own voice behind him, malicious and poisonous.
Caitlin’s breathing was ragged and the leviathans needed to stop. He kept his
gaze at the wall. It was off-white. Right in front of his face, there was a
long crack in the paint. Staring at it, he imagined he could make it open into
a portal. The bastards were deliberately trying to send Caitlin to that place,
the place where he she had gone to, when he found her in the bathroom what
seemed like an eternity ago.
His small blade, conveniently concealed in the lining of his jacket sleeve was
gone, confiscated. Three strips kept his hands in place, too tight to wriggle
out of. He ached to scream at them to fucking stop already, but there was
nothing he could give them that would make them. They were just waiting for
someone to break. Then someone did.
“Please no, don’t, please stop, don’t do it. Daddy, pleease!” Caitlin screamed,
sobbing. It was more than Dean could take and he was up and going without even
realizing. He heard Sam scrambling to his feet next to him, the leviathans had
sure known what they were doing. Breaking one had broken them all. Now it was
time to show them what a mistake that was.
***** On the run *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The leviathan standing over Caitlin was still chuckling when Dean ran into him
full force, shoulder first. He stumbled and landed on his back and Dean closed
his eyes as he jumped onto the monster’s head. The squishy sound made him
nauseous but it wasn’t even a kill, just a lucky break while the thing got
itself together again. Sam had the other leviathan pinned against a wall, using
the only weapon available to him; his teeth. Dean looked away in disgust and
hurried to the kitchen for a knife. As soon as the strips were cut from his
wrists, he went to Sam.
Sadly, a severed neck artery and disgusting amounts of splashing black goo
wasn’t enough to hinder a leviathan, and by the time Dean was loose and had
grabbed the meat cleaver, the monster was holding Sam up against the wall,
beating him repeatedly with unrelenting force. At least it was so consumed by
rage that it didn’t even notice Dean until its head flew off. Dean managed to
catch Sam before he crumpled to the ground.
“Hey little brother,” he murmured, gentle fingers testing Sam’s face for
injuries. “You with me?”
Sam let out a groan.
“C’mon Sam, Sammy, can you stand on your own?” While trying to get Sam to talk,
Dean reached around to cut open the strips binding Sam’s hands together.
“Ugh.” Sam rubbed his wrists and felt his face with his own hand. “I’d really
rather not.”
“Please Sam. Caitlin…” Dean dared a look at her. She was sobbing with her eyes
closed. Did she even know the tables had turned? Sam nodded, understanding
Dean’s concern. He reached out his hand for the kitchen knife and stumbled his
way to Caitlin, while Dean severed the now deformed and wax-like head of his
leviathan doppelganger from the body.
Sam knelt next to Caitlin and started on the strips binding her to the chair.
“Caitlin, you with us?” There was no reaction to his words. He kept his voice
carefully soft and low. “Caitlin, they’re gone. They can’t hurt you. I’m
cutting you loose.” Even as her hands fell limply to her sides, she didn’t open
her eyes. Sam took one of her hands in his to check her still bleeding wrist.
He winced at the sight. That was going to need bandages.
“How’s she doing,” asked Dean from where he was stuffing both the leviathan’s
heads in a kitchen cupboard.
“I can’t reach her,” Sam told him.
“Goddammit,” Dean growled. “This is my fault. You were right. We shouldn’t have
come back.” Dean’s eyes lingered on Sam’s bruised face before landing on
Caitlin, still sobbing quietly. “Might as well get what we came here for,” he
muttered and went into the bedroom to retrieve the old photo album. Sam raised
an eyebrow when he re-emerged. “Yeah yeah, she’ll kill me for knowing about it,
but at least she’ll still have it,” Dean grumbled.
Dean handed the album to Sam and carefully picked up Caitlin. The exercise was
almost becoming familiar. Thankfully she didn’t suddenly start hitting him or
screaming for help, and he got her out the door, where Sam waited, a finger on
his lips. From further down the stairs, multiple sets of footsteps could be
heard. Sam pointed at the door to Mrs. Davies apartment and Dean nodded. They
slipped soundlessly inside and Sam took up the old woman’s favorite position at
the peephole.
“The police have finished with the crime scene?” an Afro american man asked the
two other guys climbing the stairs with him.
“Yes, they don’t expect to find anything here,” one of them said, slightly out
of breath. Sam judged him to be of Italian heritage.
“Do we?” the third guy, Caucasian with dark hair and slightly taller than the
first man, asked. “Wherever Ms. Smith is, she is not in control. Whatever her
home might tell us about her, I think we’re wasting our time.”
“What do you think we should be doing then?” the Italian asked. There was no
answer.
Sam turned to Dean, who was still holding Caitlin.
“I don’t think they’re leviathan. I think they’re profilers.”
“Does that make us more or less fucked?”
“I’m not sure. Let’s get out of here.”
They didn’t meet anyone else, as they quickly and silently moved down the
stairs and outside. Caitlin didn’t react to being laid down in the backseat and
soon they were tearing up tracks out of Seattle. Sam kept his head down until
they reached a truck stop twenty miles south of the city where he could wash
up. He didn’t complain but being covered in black leviathan blood was not only
icky, but itchy as well. After washing up and changing clothes, he felt a lot
better. As they sped off, he sat in the backseat with Caitlin and took care of
the abrasions on her wrists. He hummed softly and soothingly but she didn’t
react.
Every fifteen minutes, Sam tried to get Caitlin to answer him, and every time
Lucifer would tell him he was making it worse. Sam was half convinced she would
never become lucid again, when she finally reacted well into the evening. She
sat bolt right up, her eyes wide with fear.
“Hold on a second, Caitlin, we’re us. You’re safe. We’ll prove it. Dean, pull
over.”
As soon as the car stopped, Sam ran to the trunk and found a bottle of soap. He
let Caitlin see how it didn’t hurt him, and then opened the driver’s door to
douse some on Dean’s neck. That, of course, caused a lot of grumbling protests
and promises of swift retribution, that more than anything made Caitlin feel
better. They drove into the next town, switched cars, and Caitlin insisted on
taking a closer look at Sam’s face, only to reach the same conclusion as Dean;
painful and colorful but nothing seriously damaged.
They spent the night in the car, the brothers taking turns driving. An entire
day’s drive away from Seattle, they felt safe enough to take a break. Sam used
his ‘mad hacking skillz’ as proclaimed by Dean, to find them another run-down
house in Tucson to squat in. When they arrived they were pleasantly surprised
to find it huge and mostly furnished. Dean threw open the door to the third
bedroom with a bed and mattress.
“You want your own room?” He looked at Caitlin hesitantly. She shook her head
vehemently. Dean smiled and looked relieved. “Okay.”
     Senior supervisory special agent David Rossi from the FBI’s
     Behavioral Analysis Unit stood in Ms. Smith’s bedroom and tried to
     get a feel for the person who had lived there for ten years according
     to the landlord. It had been hours since they first entered the
     apartment, shocked to find it a crime scene and not just a point of
     interest. The two headless bodies had been warm still when they
     entered the place, and Rossi couldn’t help wondering what they would
     have found, if they had arrived sooner.
     A preliminary investigation of the scene had left them dumbfounded,
     as they waited for backup. If the bodies were still warm, why was the
     blood completely black and syrupy? Blood never looked like that and
     no drugs or chemicals they could think of would make blood coagulate
     in such a manner. Then Agent Morgan found the missing heads in the
     kitchen and things made even less sense. They all recognized the
     Winchesters, FBI’s most wanted a few months ago; even mangled as they
     were. It would seem the Winchesters were dead. Again, one might add.
     The older Winchester had been doused with acid, shot in the chest,
     then his head had been bashed in and cut off, while the younger
     Winchester had a bite through tendons and arteries in his neck, bad
     enough to kill him on its own. Yet he too, had been decapitated. That
     suggested a lot of rage, and required a lot of strength. Since they
     had apparently been alive yesterday, the descriptions given by
     witnesses matched them to the mysterious men living with Ms. Smith,
     killing the women in the alley (who still hadn’t been identified),
     and taking off with the young woman.
     They had spent the time others processed the crime scene calling
     employers and professors, trying to find out everything they could
     about Ms. Caitlin Smith. It turned out to be frustratingly little,
     yet enough to make her a possible suspect. Though not many would
     mourn the loss of the Winchesters, a double homicide like this
     probably wouldn’t be the last. According to her file, Caitlin Smith
     had grown up in an orphanage, dropped out of high school at sixteen
     and roamed the streets for two years. At eighteen the girl had
     suddenly gotten her act together, moved into this apartment and
     worked hard towards her GED. She was now close to finishing her
     internship at the university hospital.
     Something bothered him about the sudden shift from wayward to
     ambitious; people didn’t change like that overnight for no reason.
     Moreover, Caitlin Smith was a black belt practitioner of jiu jitsu
     and aikido, and had a gun licence. A few calls confirmed that she was
     known as a proficient shot at the local gun range. For the past ten
     years she had been working alongside her studies, bartending mostly.
     Her latest employer didn’t have anything nice to say about her, as he
     had apparently fired her only a week earlier, though he wouldn’t give
     any details on the phone. Morgan and Hotchner was on their way to
     speak to him while Rossi stayed behind.
     Rossi considered the bed. Two pillows were rumpled, the covers had
     been hastily thrown over it and were slightly skewed. It went against
     everything else he had seen in the small apartment. Ms. Smith would
     be the type of person to make the bed meticulously every morning.
     Except the last time she slept here, she didn’t sleep alone, and she
     didn’t bother making the bed as usual. Then she climbed down a fire
     escape, ended up in a deadly battle in the alley below, before she
     got into a car with the notorious Winchesters. The next day the
     Winchesters turned up extremely dead in her home and she was still
     AWOL.
     Frowning, Rossi reached a hand down under the bed, hoping to find
     some kind of memento from the mysterious woman’s past. He found
     nothing.
     Back in Quantico, technical analyst Penelope Garcia was looking
     through the file on the girl they had been desperately trying to find
     alive for the past day, only to learn that she might be as much
     danger as they had thought she was in. While a girl taking out two
     (supposedly dead) serial killers sounded like Sunday morning puppies
     and rainbows, Garcia understood the concern. Decapitation, neck
     biting and skull crushing did seem a bit… excessive. She bit her lip
     as she compared the bank account to the file. There just wasn’t
     enough digital footprints of the girl’s life until ten years ago.
     Garcia worked her magic.
     When agents Morgan and Hotchner left the bar owner they had
     interviewed they both felt a little dirty just for being in the same
     room with the man. Apparently Dean Winchester was Caitlin’s jealous
     boyfriend and had beat the man up for looking at her wrong. There was
     still traces of black around one of his eyes to support the story.
     Hotchner’s phone rang before they could discuss the implications of
     the bar owner’s statement - and what truths they sensed behind it.
     “Ms. Smith didn’t exist until ten years ago,” Garcia told them,
     breathless with excitement. “It’s a fake identity.”
     “For crying out loud,” Hotchner cursed. “Then who is she?” There was
     a long silence.
     “I don’t know.”
     It wasn’t five minutes later when agent Jareau, liaison with the
     press and the local police department called.
     “Apparently some people have showed up after watching the news,
     claiming that Caitlin Smith is really Sarah Stevenson, disappeared at
     age 16.”
     “Sure. Why not,” Hotchner sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Can’t wait
     to meet them.”
     Caitlin Smith or, they had to concede, Sarah Stevenson’s adoptive
     father and brothers were aggressively suggesting that not enough
     resources were spent, trying to find their relative. They wanted to
     know about the investigation, about her life in Seattle, about when
     they could take her home. They gave the entire team the creeps.
     Sarah Stevenson had run away from home at sixteen and showed up as
     eighteen years old Caitlin Smith just five months later. What she had
     been doing for five months and how she had found someone to help her
     build a fake identity as well as the money to pay for it, no one
     knew. But as soon as she had become Caitlin Smith, she had worked
     tirelessly to become a strong, independent and academically achieved
     woman.
     Several mannerisms in all three men screamed ‘abuser’ and while they
     wouldn’t be able to prove anything without the woman in question’s
     statement, the agents of BAU all had their theories as to why she had
     run away.
     Agent Morgan gladly took it upon himself to inform the family that
     they would not, in fact, be getting any updates on the whereabouts of
     one Ms. Stevenson/Smith. As her stepfather raised protests, Morgan
     firmly rejected him.
     “She was a minor when she disappeared, but she has been rightfully
     making her own decisions for eight years. Those decisions included
     deliberately NOT having any contact with you, as well as NOT naming
     you her emergency contact. Therefore you will NOT receive any
     information about the investigation. Now leave before we arrest you
     for obstructing our work.” Morgan smirked at the man, hoping he would
     snap and try to clock him. Fists clenching and face red, he withdrew,
     only to stop at the door and shout back to Morgan.
     “This isn’t over, punk!”
     Morgan simply shook his head in disgust as he headed back to the room
     where the rest of the team had assembled to go over facts. When he
     entered, it was to find the room in upheaval.
     “Guys, what happened?”
     “Apparently the Winchesters’ bodies have gone missing from the
     morgue,” Hotchner answered, looking both angry and tired to the
     bones. Morgan frowned.
     “Anything on the security cameras?”
     “Nothing,” Hotchner said. “No loops, no outages, no flickers, no
     suspicious persons. Nothing.”
     “That’s it!” Garcia ranted on the video link from her office. “I
     don’t care if they blow up the white house. If I ever see the name
     Winchester again, I’m taking a month off.”
     “Easy, Mama,” Morgan smiled. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”
     Secretly he doubted she would this time though. He was suddenly back
     in Chicago, a rookie, observing a black classic car pull up next to
     the crime scene he had recently helped process. He had been off duty
     and gone in after the two suspects alone; cocky and eager to prove
     himself. He remembered the gruff voice telling him to “duck!” and the
     deafening sound of a shot fired in a tight basement; the feeling of
     something whizzing closely over his head. The shouting match between
     him and the guy with the shotgun, ending with them both flying
     through the air as a see-through mangled form advanced on the man
     with the pickaxe, digging a hole in the floor.
     Eventually bones had been salted and burned, beers had been consumed,
     and Morgan had learned that ghosts were real and that John Winchester
     and his oldest son, Dean, laid them to rest - and hustled pool, which
     cost him a hundred dollars that night.
     It had been some years later, shortly after Morgan transferred to
     BAU, that he ran into the brothers Winchester on a werewolf case.
     Once again he had managed to get himself into the line of fire and
     they had saved his bacon. Beers had been consumed, pool had pointedly
     not been played, and Morgan had learned that monsters were real, too.
     Also, the ‘acid’ on the Dean Winchester they had found was soap, so
     it had thankfully not been the man himself, but Morgan was not about
     to ruin the ‘fun’ for the rest of the team by telling them. He’d only
     end up being benched interminably.
Chapter End Notes
     Now you can read the second drabble in 'Extras and Outtakes' without
     being spoiled.
***** Interlude *****
After a night of blissful, much-needed sleep, the trio of fugitives sat in the
living room of the empty house, going over their plans. There was no breakfast
though they were all starving.
“We need cash,” Dean said. He was flicking aimlessly through the yellow pages
of an old phone book. “Sam do you think it’s possible to hustle some pool here
without getting our asses dragged to the station for being kidnappers?”
“They haven’t released any pictures of us on the news yet.” Sam was on his
laptop, using his phone to access the Internet. He was scrolling through
obituaries and news articles, looking for cases without conscious thought. “I
guess they found the leviathans, so they’re probably not looking too hard.”
“Awesome. Now if we just had something for our starting bet, but we’re
completely broke.” Dean threw the phone book into a corner, frustrated.
“You have something to bet,” Caitlin argued.
“Yeah? What’s that?” Dean gave her belligerent look.
“Me.”
“Have you lost your goddamned mind?” Dean was angry, angrier than Caitlin had
ever seen him. She wasn’t impressed.
“Not the last time I looked. What’s the problem?” She stood, arms crossed,
leaning a little towards Dean.
“We’re not using you as fucking bait!”
“Why not, afraid you’ll lose?”
“Of course not. But…” he trailed off, looking for reasons. “You’re wanted, you
were on the news.”
“Three states away. And I managed to get a five-finger discount on this the
last time we stopped for necessities.” She held up a package with a picture of
a blonde on it. “I hear blondes have more fun.”
“Jesus Caitlin, the guys in a place where a trick like that’ll work are gonna
be predators. You don’t wanna spend the night in a room full of that kind of
people.” Dean’s voice cracked with frustration. He turned his back to her and
ran a hand through his hair.
“I’m sorry, where did we meet again?”
Five hours later, Caitlin and Dean walked into a dive bar, worse than any place
she had ever worked. Sam would be making his entrance at a later time, ready to
back them up if needed.
“I really don’t think we should do this,” Dean muttered under his breath, as
they paused just inside the door to scope the layout of the place.
“Good thing you’re not the boss of me, then.” Caitlin huffed, and did
absolutely not tug at the hem of her cut-off shirt to cover her bare stomach.
Her jeans had been turned into shorts, showing off her newly shaved legs.
Exposed didn’t begin to cover her feelings about the outfit, but she had made
it and put it on herself, while warmed on the inside by Dean’s continuous
vehement protestations (and hidden lingering stares). Every time her hair got
into her face, she felt a strange disconnection to everything. She had never
dyed her hair before and the light blond strands were vastly different from her
usual dark locks.
Someone gave a loud wolf whistle as she headed across the room towards the bar
at Dean’s heels. She made sure to make eye contact with the man and let the
corners of her mouth tug slightly upwards. She felt nauseous and a little
faint, but no one but her needed to know that. The better she played her part,
the sooner they would be able to leave.
Dean grabbed a beer at the bar, thus spending their last few bucks. He’d been
lurching a little since they exited the car, playing the part of someone who’d
had one too many already.
“C’mere sugar,” he said and dragged Caitlin towards the pool tables by her
hand. There were three of them, all taken. Three huge guys in leather and denim
that looked like bikers stood at one, a couple of drunken hicks at the other,
and a group of five young men, that looked like frat boys slumming it, occupied
the third table. The frat boys’ clothing looked expensive, one was taking a
selfie with an iPhone, another was just pulling his sleeve down to cover a
Rolex.
“Jackpot,” Dean smirked and went to observe their game with poorly hidden
disdain on his face.
“Hey old man, what’s your problem,” iPhone frat boy was soon to ask, when he
fumbled a shot and heard Dean tsk.
“No pro’lem,” Dean slurred. “You’ve got loads, though. Can’t use that stick for
anything good. Amateurs. The lot of ya.”
“Yeah? You think you can do better?”
“Pfft, I know I can. I could beat you boys blindfolded, one arm tied on my
back.” Dean moved to sit back nonchalantly in a chair but missed the mark by
several inches, narrowly avoiding toppling to the floor. The frat boys all
laughed, and Sam who had just entered the bar couldn’t help a smile. Dean
always overdid it.
“Prove it, Grandpa. Buy-in’s fifty bucks.”
“Don’t have fifty bucks. Won’t lose anyway. Heck, if I do, you can take her,”
Dean said and pointed to Caitlin, who pretended to look shocked.
“Hell no, you can’t bet me,” she hissed at him. “You’re too drunk to play.”
The boys were eyeing her up and down appreciatively.
“You shouldn’t be sorry about that, honey,” iPhone-guy said. “I promise you’ll
like me better than him.” Caitlin gave him a once-over, then looked back at
Dean, eyes narrowed in mock anger.
“You could be right,” she admitted with a coy smile when she turned back to
their mark. The guy turned to Dean.
“Looks like you’ve got yourself a bet. You win, you get fifty bucks. I win, I
get her.” The guy looked at Caitlin and actually managed to look slightly
apologetic. Dean stumbled to his feet, staggering a little.
“No, man,” he protested. “You get an hour with her. You want her to stay with
you, you gotta show her she’s worth more’n fifty.” Their mark wasn’t happy, but
he looked at Caitlin again and nodded.
“She is,” he admitted, and threw down two hundred dollar bills. “Are we on?”
“Sure,” Dean said, and wobbled to the table. “Go ahead ‘n break’em.”
Their mark got a pretty good start, and the group erupted in wild cheers,
drawing the attention of the other players.
“Whadda’ya betting on?” one of the hicks asked, and the frat boy with the rolex
pointed at Caitlin. She squirmed a bit under the unwanted attention, as the
hick stepped closer, licking his lips and nodding in appreciation. He looked at
the wad of bills on the table’s edge.
“Whadda bargain,” he said, pursing his lips.
Caitlin started feeling cold all over, images of Dean losing and being sold to
the hick flooding her mind. Then Dean pushed the hick away rudely and leaned
in. To the casual observer he appeared to be holding her by the hair and
squeezing her body against his own, while he spoke directly into her ear. To
Caitlin it felt like a light hug, the contact soothing and reassuring. She knew
all she had to do was push and Dean would let her go.
“Caitlin, if this gets to be too much, you just say so. Hell, just punch
someone. I don’t care if it’s me. Don’t you dare do anything you’ll feel bad
about in the morning, you hear me?” He drew back slightly to watch her
expression, checking she was okay. Caitlin couldn’t help herself then, she
firmly put her hands on his cheeks and drew him towards her. Her lips ghosted
over his, that were lined with two days’ worth of stubble, tasting of beer and
half open in surprise.
“Thank you,” she whispered, before winking at their mark. He looked slightly
dismayed at the sudden display of affection.
Then Caitlin opened her mouth again.
“Show them what you’ve got, baby,” she told Dean, loud enough for the guy to
hear, and his eyes widened for a second, then narrowed. Dean picked up the cue
stick and gave him a bright, dishonest smile, before steadily walking to the
table and sinking in ball after ball, calling each shot before he made it.
Someone huge suddenly loomed over Dean. Caitlin sucked in a breath, as she
realized that the attention from the middle table, had alerted the bikers to
what was going on. The man was bald, had several piercings and tattoos and was
wearing a leather vest. The back had a black and red eclipse with a white fist
in the middle, the letters B.A.C.A. written on the knuckles. She read the words
written around the circle and gasped. There was going to be trouble.
“You used your lady for a bet?” the biker asked Dean, tone low and threatening.
The sudden words so close to him caused Dean to jolt, missing his shot.
“I wasn’t planning on losing her, so thanks for that, man,” he bit out.
Their mark hurried to take his next shot, determined to finish the game without
giving Dean a second chance to win. Caitlin sidled up to him with a winsome
smile.
“Do you like blowjobs?” she whispered. The guy nodded, swallowed and leaned
over to take his shot. “I deepthroat,” Caitlin told him, leaning in next to
him, giving him a good view of her cleavage. The cue ball shot into the air and
off the table, Caitlin breathed out deeply and turned to find Dean and the
biker in a staring contest.
“Honey, you’re up again,” she told Dean, giving him a light push towards the
pool table and taking his place in front of the pissed off mountain of leather.
Dean hesitated until she waved him on. Their mark stood next to him, looking
thoroughly disheartened. No doubt he had figured out their con by now, but it
was impossible to tell if he mourned the loss of his 200 dollars more than the
chance to take Caitlin home.
“You need help, little one?” the biker asked. This time his voice was a gentle
rumble. Caitlin stepped a little closer.
“Thank you, but no thanks. I know how it looks, but I… it was my idea.” The man
narrowed his eyes at her. “He’s not gonna lose,” she explained hurriedly. “But
even if he did… “ she shrugged. “I can take care of myself.”
“Don’t say that if you need to hustle pool to get by. Get a job.” Caitlin gave
a bitter laugh.
“Had a job. Things got messy. He got me away from there.”
Caitlin jerked her thumb at Dean.
“He’ll help me get set up somewhere else; and he’ll never ask me for anything
in return.” The biker didn’t look entirely convinced. He raised an eyebrow as
if to say ‘go on’.
“Do you know what he was saying to me, when you came over?” The biker shook his
head no. “He told me that all I had to do was say so, and we’d leave. Do you
know what I had to do to convince him to do this at all?” The biker shook his
head again, the corners of his mouth starting to tug upwards a little. “I told
him I’d tie him up and run off to turn tricks.”
It wasn’t quite the way the conversation had gone, but it was more or less the
gist of it. The biker barked out a laugh.
“You threatened to tie him up?”
“I could and he knows it. Only because he’d never actually hurt me, though.
Don’t pick a fight with him.” Caitlin held the man’s eyes for a long moment,
before he exhaled and the tension left his body.
“You two are quite the team, aren’t you,” he said, but he was smiling. Caitlin
shrugged again.
“Mutual beneficial advantages makes for good alliances.”
“I’m Matt,” the biker introduced himself and they shook hands.
“C… Sarah.” Caitlin smiled at him. “You know, I read an article about Bikers
Against Child Abuse a couple of years ago. You guys do amazing work.” Matt
looked down and his cheeks turned red.
“It’s nothing,” he murmured.
“It’s not nothing,” Caitlin said. “If I’d known about you guys ten years ago,
maybe I’d… maybe I’d done some things differently.” Matt nodded solemnly.
“Well, you know about us now,” he said and gave her his card. “Call if there’s
ever anything I can do for you.”
Dean finished the game and snatched up his hard earned cash only to find his
pretend girlfriend hugging a biker. He hurried to her side, incredulous.
“Hey, you okay?” He reached out to touch her shoulder but left his hand hanging
in the last moment. Caitlin simply laughed and let go.
“I’m fine. Ready to go?” Dean glanced confusedly at the biker, his feet not
moving. “This is Matt,” Caitlin told him. Matt held out his hand.
“You take care of your girl, now,” he said as he squeezed Dean’s hand hard
enough remove any doubts as to whether Matt’s bulk was fat or muscle.
“As much as she’ll let me,” Dean answered, still nonplussed.
“Good answer,” Matt smiled and winked at Caitlin, as she dragged Dean away by
his still throbbing hand.
***** Caught in a Dream *****
Before moving on to the next bar, Caitlin was dropped off at the house. While
Sam waited in the car, Dean followed her inside, as if to make sure she’d be
comfortable, and told her to get some sleep.
“You’ll be driving first tomorrow,” Dean told her. “Only fair when me’n Sam
have to work all night.”
“I thought it was my ass on the line?” She arched an eyebrow at him, a small
smile tugging the corners of her mouth upwards. “I thought I was the one
putting myself in danger, being irresponsible, playing with fire?” Dean’s
expression went from amused to pinched.
“About that… what was up with that biker? Did you know him?” Caitlin busied
herself with studying the floor. “Caitlin, it’s kind of important. We’re on the
run, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“NO!” The sharp sound of her voice shocked her into abrupt silence. She
swallowed and started again. “No, I didn’t know him, Dean. Yes, I have noticed
that our situation is screwed up. Just…” she trailed off and started towards
their bedroom. “Just go back out there and leave me alone. I’ll drive
tomorrow.” She entered the room and closed the door behind her without even
looking Dean’s way.
Caitlin missed Dean’s warmth next to her and her sleep was fitful until she dug
Matt’s card out of her pocket and clutched it tightly in her hand. That gave
her a few hours of much needed near comatose sleep. She woke up to find Dean
passed out next to her, smelling of cigarettes and stale beer. As happy as she
was to have him next to her, the smell (and the snoring) quickly became too
much for her. She got up and tucked Matt’s card back in her purse, before
hesitantly extracting Dean’s wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, neatly
folded on top of a dresser.
She held back a low whistle at the size of the wad of cash in it and grabbed a
twenty. Then she strolled a few blocks away from the house and started running.
She hadn’t done any physical training since meeting Dean that fateful night,
and when her side began to sting she cursed herself for it. She usually spent
an hour every day and two on weekends staying in shape, going to the gun range
or the dojo to hone her self defense skills. Puffing and wincing, she found a
bakery and got them a nice breakfast, coffee included and thus had to walk all
the way back.
Dean had heard Caitlin rummage around and opened one eye a fraction to see her
messing with his wallet. He figured she might have come to her senses and was
ready to make a run for it, so he didn’t try to make it any harder for her,
though his gut clenched at the thought of her gone. Or maybe it was just the
hangover. Yeah, probably. He pretended to be asleep until she left and then
went to see how much she had left for him and Sam. When he found all the money
still there, he drew in a deep breath. Was it relief or disappointment? He
didn’t know for sure, but his stomach growled and he decided not to care, as
long as she brought food. And coffee. Coffee would be awesome.
                                    xoxoxox
Caitlin woke up in a wider bed, a brighter room. She sat up and looked around.
There was a lot more furniture than in the room they were squatting in. She
couldn’t find the clothes she had been wearing but in a closet she found
clothes that fit her. More disconcertingly, in another closet she found a man’s
clothes. As she stepped out the door and walked through the house she had woken
up in, she slowly began to feel like she was floating above herself, watching.
‘Did I die? Where am I? What is this place?’
She never really voiced the questions even to herself, as she looked at
photographs lining the walls. The few strands of hair the chemo left her mother
with had been grey, but now she was looking at pictures of her mother as an
elderly silver haired lady wearing thin, gold rimmed glasses and a happy smile.
Her father standing next to her, looking every ounce the distinguished
gentleman, watching his wife with such protective adoration, it made Caitlin’s
throat close up.
A family of four stood under a tree, a swing barely visible behind them. A
little boy, perhaps five years old, too busy cheering at a passing butterfly to
look at the camera, a younger girl, judging by the light pink material of her
clothes, riding her father’s shoulders, grinning so wide Caitlin could count
all of her eight teeth. The father was looking upwards, probably enjoying the
girl’s loud giggles, smiling broadly. He had blond hair and seemed tall,
perhaps as tall as Sam Winchester, though nowhere near as muscled. The mother
was… Caitlin gasped as she recognized herself, standing with a soft indulgent
smile, a hand ruffling the boy’s hair, the other thrown around the father’s
waist.
She still wasn’t breathing right, when a door opened to reveal the man from the
picture.
“Hey, Honey,” he said good-naturedly. “Did you have a nice nap?” He went and
put his arms around Caitlin, who was so shell shocked she couldn’t even move,
and pecked her on the mouth. The man let go again to give her a long, loving
look.
“You look more rested. Should we go out or order in, to celebrate our few hours
of freedom?” He smiled and then continued “or maybe we should skip dinner and
get to the fun stuff?” He leaned towards her, obviously angling for a real
kiss.
Caitlin finally managed to open her mouth and scream. She screamed and she ran.
A confused voice behind her asked her what was wrong, but she kept running. She
ran away from the strange house, the pictures, the children, the man. Ran into
the street, not bothering to check for cars. A horn sounded, and everything
went dark.
She was hanging from a low ceiling, hanging by her tied wrists. Other people
hung near her, unconscious. Everything seemed red, until covered by a blue
haze.
“You wished your parents were alive but you couldn’t live with the
consequences? No matter. Wish again, pretty girl,” a voice cooed at her.
Caitlin woke up next to a snoring Dean, which was a little weird - hadn’t that
happened already? And why were the drapes lime colored, when they had been
hideously purple last night? Dean mumbled something in his sleep and reached
out towards her, his hand coming to rest over her stomach. Her very much
unclothed stomach.
“What the shit?” she squeaked and jumped off the bed, clutching the cover in
front of her to conceal all the naked skin. She was only wearing panties and a
bra. And really? Lace?! Unfortunately, snagging the covers meant that Dean was
now lying in full view, wearing only boxer briefs. Caitlin averted her eyes and
could still see every single detail as if burned into her retinas. His broad
muscled back, the curve of his ass, the slight stubble on his face, his sleep
mussed hair.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked, sounding sleepy and relaxed in a way she had
never seen him.
“Dean, wake up,” she urged him. “Something weird has happened. Look,
everything’s different.” Dean managed to get his eyes to half mast and peered
around the room.
“Caitie, if you’re regretting the green carpet, you’ll have to change it
yourself. I told you it was too dark.”
“I’m not talking about the damned carpet! Hello, we went to sleep in that
abandoned house in Tucson, remember? This room is way bigger!” Dean blinked
several times before sitting up and reaching out to her. When she backed away
from him, he looked… puzzled. Hurt even.
“Last night we went to the fundraiser at the hospital. You made me stay for two
fucking hours. Then we came back here and you made it up to me.” His eyebrows
waggled, suggesting exactly how she could have ‘made it up to him’ and Caitlin
flinched, her heart no longer just beating too fast, but attempting to escape
through her chest. “Then we slept. You should be on call in…” Dean’s eyes
swerved to an alarm clock sitting at a bedside table, “three hours. Do you need
to call in sick, Honey? Did you maybe get some bad shellfish or somethin’?”
Caitlin couldn’t move. She sat at the wall in this fancy, big ass bedroom,
covering herself, looking anywhere but at Dean. Fundraiser. Hospital. He spoke
as if they lived together, as if she was a doctor and he was her… her…
“Dean, we’re on the run. You killed those amazons and the leviathans. Why are
you talking about fundraisers?” ‘And what the actual fuck made you think I’d
offer you sexual favors in return for going to one?’
Dean’s eyes widened with worry. He reached out to her again, and this time she
was cornered. His touch was as gentle and caring as she remembered, when he
folded his arms around her.
“Jesus, Caitie, how much did you drink last night? I thought you only had one
of those bubbly drinks?”
“I don’t know,” Caitlin sobbed. “I don’t know, I don’t remember anything. I was
almost done with my residency when I ran into you, and then that ghost thing
happened and I don’t know what this is, I don’t understand anything…”
“Sssssh, ssssh, Honey, it’s okay. I promise, we’ll figure it out, just… relax a
bit okay?” Dean rubbed circles on her back as her crying slowly quietened.
“I’ll just call the hospital and tell them you’re sick, okay?” he said then and
lifted her onto the bed. He went into the hallway but Caitlin still heard every
word.
“Hi Ella, this is Dean. Caitlin’s not going to be able to work today… No, no I
don’t think it was the food last night. I’m actually pretty worried about her,
she’s acting like she barely knows me. I’m not sure what could cause those
symptoms, a stroke maybe? I’ll bring her in, and you can give her a checkup,
okay?”
Dean came back to the bedroom.
“Come on, Caitie. Let’s find you some clothes. Your honored doctor colleagues
are going to do a workup on that smart beautiful brain of yours, figure out
what’s happening.”
Caitlin couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was Dean, more so than the leviathan
version of him had been. But he was also different. His muscles were a little
less defined, his belly a bit mushier to look at, than it had been when she
stitched him up. His scars were still there, though. The soft empathic way he
spoke to her was off. Dean was all hard edges and repressed emotions, not
gentle, caring and patient. Whatever was going on, was a serious mindfuck.
***** Waking up *****
“You don’t think she just took off on her own?” Sam offered. Dean was wearing a
hole in the floor, pacing back and forth.
“She took twenty bucks, Sammy. She went for breakfast. Three hours ago.”
“You don’t think the police [picked her up, do you?” Sam looked worried and
then annoyed, as his hallucination of Lucifer danced around singing “Serial
killed, serial killed. blooooood all oooooover.”
“Nah,” Dean sighed. “She looks completely different with her hair blond. And
we’re a long way from Seattle. I’m afraid it’s something worse.” Lucifer made a
‘ding ding ding, you got it’-motion, smiling an unnerving predatory smile, wide
as the Mississippi. Sam pulled out his laptop.
“I’ll check the local news.”
“I think we should try finding that biker from last night,” Dean said. “It was
fucking uncanny, her hugging him like that all of a sudden.” Sam shook his
head.
“I seriously doubt that the biker had anything to do with this, unless she
simply decided to go with him instead of us. Which would be a good thing,
really.”
“What?!”
“You didn’t read what it said on his vest, did you?” Sam said. Dean shook his
head. Sometimes Sam was a goddamned knowitall. “He was a member of ‘Bikers
Against Child Abuse.’” Sam said with a sad smile. Dean’s mouth opened and
closed a few times before he managed to speak.
“She might actually have gone with him.” Unconsciously he rubbed his hand at
his suddenly aching chest. “It’s good,” he nodded, blinking a little too fast.
“It’s good.”
“Let’s just make sure she really is safe,” Sam said. “Then we can get out of
here.”
Fifteen minutes later, Sam set the laptop aside.“We might have a problem.” Dean
hadn’t stopped pacing.
“What? You mean Caitlin’s not with the biker of salvation?” His level of
passive aggressiveness was suddenly through the roof. Aggressiveness, anyway.
There wasn’t really anything passive about it.
“Yeah, Dean. I’m sorry.” Sam stared at his laptop as he spoke. “There’s been a
string of disappearances in this neighborhood. First one happened six weeks
ago. Then someone new every eight to ten days.”
“When did the last person go missing?” Dean spoke, his voice sounding a little
hollow.
“Nine days ago.”
“Godfuckingdammit!” Dean yelled. Of course Caitlin could have been stopped by
the police. She could have gone with Matt the saintly biker. But they were
never that lucky. Never.
“Serial killer or supernatural?” Dean asked, shaking his hand free of the
plaster of an innocent wall.
“There’s no common nominators for the victims, and serial killers either travel
constantly or stay in one place and they usually start up slow and then
escalate. Besides, Caitlin wouldn’t exactly be an easy target for a human. I’m
gonna go with supernatural,” Sam mused.
There was another pause while Dean cursed the day he met Caitlin and the ghost
that tried to off her, and made another couple of holes in the wall. After
taking a few deep breaths, he returned to Sam.
“Supernatural, gotcha. What? Where?”
“Do I look like a crystal ball to you?”
“No, you look like the jolly green garden gnome. C’mon, think, Sammy.”
                                     XoXoX
Caitlin was finally allowed to get up, her breathing still ragged from the
suffocating, claustrophobic atmosphere inside the scanner. The loud noises from
the machinery had matched her heartbeat, making her feel like a ticking bomb
about to explode. Dean was there waiting, folding her into his arms and just
holding her and she let herself melt into the embrace. He smelled… wrong. Not
like whiskey, leather, gunpowder and old spice, more like sanitizer, soap and
something more expensive. She felt a weird sense of displacement [again] and
pushed him away.
“I don’t know you,” she whispered. Dean looked crestfallen.
“Yeah, you do,” he protested. “We met here, at the hospital, your first
rotation. I asked you out at least fifty times, and you said no every time.” He
took her hand and let his thumb stroke her knuckles gently. “Then some creep
tried to grope you while you were practically saving his life, and you kinda
freaked. I sat you down in the break room at got you talking.”
Dean kept gazing into her eyes as if he could find answers there.
“You think this is about what happened to you? Did something happen last night,
maybe? I mean I wasn’t right next to you the whole time. Did I let something
happen? I did, didn’t I? Oh God, Caitie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“God, stop it, Dean. You’re babbling,” Caitlin shushed him, two fingers on his
lips. Dean managed a surprised “mpfh” before staying silent, eyes big and wet,
and still looking like a kicked puppy.
“I really don’t know what happened last night,” she said as they walked
together hand in hand through the halls that she ought to know but didn’t
recognize. “Either my real memories have been replaced with fake ones or this
is some kind of dream.”
“If this is the dream, don’t you dare wake up,” Dean said, squeezing her hand.
Caitlin gave him a wan smile.
“If you expect sexual favors from me, I might have to. I.. I can’t deal with
that, Dean.” He practically rolled his eyes at her.
“Well, duh. You’ve never been able to. I don’t care.”
“But you said that last night... that we…”
“Jesus, Caitie, I made you watch ‘High Noon’ again.”
“Oh. But I thought… I mean, we were sleeping in our underwear?”
Dean’s expression turned pinched.
“Yeah. That coach you insisted on seeing back in January told you it might help
you get more comfortable with uhm, intimacy. You’ve done it every night since.”
Caitlin drew a deep breath, feeling muscles uncoil she didn’t even know she
had. Then Dean continued. “I know I’ve said so before, but maybe now you’ll
listen. Stop it. Stop trying to force yourself into something you’re not ready
for. I miss being your good night teddy bear, I miss you resting your head on
my chest, and I hate how you push me away if I as much as graze your skin in my
sleep.”
Dean walked a little faster, until he suddenly paused.
“Can we swing by C12?” he asked. “Adam wasn’t looking too hot yesterday, I want
to check on him.”
“Sure,” Caitlin said, confused and curious, head still reeling a little.
C12 turned out to be a pediatrics ward and Adam was the nine year old kid in
the bed, fighting an infection and waiting for a new kidney. When the door
opened to reveal a visitor, his face lit up. Caitlin stood in the doorway,
unnoticed and unsure of what to do.
“Dean! I thought you were off today?”
“I am, Squiggly. Just came to check on my little man. How ‘you doin’?” Adam
hung his head a little.
“Nurse Owens says the fever won’t break.” Dean bit his lip and looked worried
all of a second, before briskly grabbing a rubber glove from a box over the
sink in the corner.
“We’ll just have to scare the fever away, then won’t we,” he said to Adam with
a smile.
Dean stretched the glove over his head, until his nose was covered. Then he
blew it up so the glove looked like a cock’s comb on his head. As soon as he
had pushed the glove up enough to be able to see again, he started making
crowing noises and flapped his arms as imaginary wings, while Adam squealed
with laughter.
“What is this ruckus in here?” a scandalized voice spoke behind Caitlin. A
formidable woman in a nurse’s uniform pushed past her to stand in the doorway,
hands at her sides. “Nurse Winchester! What do you think you’re doing?” Dean
froze and turned, expression innocent and eyes a little too wide.
“Running off a fever, nurse Owens,” he said. The otherwise intimidating nurse
was standing so Caitlin could see the corner of her mouth quirk upwards. “I’m
sure that fever is long gone by now,” Owens said sternly. “Now get out of here,
it’s your day off for heaven’s sake.”
“Yes Ma’am,” Dean grinned and winked at Adam. “See you tomorrow, Squiggly.” He
pulled the glove down over his nose again and blew a lungful of air into it,
making it whizz across the room.
As they walked back towards the main entrance, Caitlin still couldn’t believe
what she had seen.
“I didn’t know you were a nurse. A nurse, Dean, really?”
“Hey,” Dean interrupted. “Nurses get to do all the interesting stuff, you
doctors get the paperwork!” Caitlin huffed a short laugh. It was an old doctor/
nurse jibe. Sure, the doctors got the paperwork, and the nurses had to deal
with the bodily fluids.
Dean glanced at her.
“What else would I be?” Caitlin couldn’t answer that; couldn’t tell this
gentle, playful version of Dean that she knew him as a bleak killer.
“You’re right,” she ended up saying. “It’s cool.”
“When you woke up, you said something about squatting in a house and killing
and something about a… ghost?” Caitlin stumbled.
“I had a nightmare,” she lied. Dean raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t push.
“So what do you remember?” he asked instead after an awkward pause.
“Nothing. I don’t remember anything. I don’t know my specialty or how long
we’ve been together and I don’t know what year it is.” Caitlin’s voice was
laced with fear and frustration.
“You’re in oncology. We’ve been together for three years, and the year is 2016.
Today is the 18th of May,” Dean said quietly. Caitlin stared at him, eyes wide
with shock.
“You’ve been with me for three years, even though I can’t handle sleeping next
to you in my underwear?”
“How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t care?” Dean countered
stubbornly.
“We’re not just really good friends, then? I mean, you go out and get laid once
in awhile, right?” Caitlin couldn’t bring herself to think about the
alternative. Dean sputtered indignantly.
“The fuck? NO!”
“Jesus.” Caitlin said, wanting to shake Dean and ask him what kind of crazy he
had. “What does Sam say about it?” Dean’s face turned white as a sheet. “What?”
Caitlin asked, suddenly worried that he’d faint.
“I never told you about Sammy,” Dean whispered. Caitlin frowned and Dean
continued. “I told you my family died in a plane crash when I was seven. My
mom, dad and my little brother. I never told you his name.”
Caitlin remembered the tall and broad, soft spoken, geeky Sam Winchester.
“How come you weren’t on the plane?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“I was. I was up in the cockpit with a bunch of other kids, when suddenly
everything … tilted. Sammy should have been with us, but he got airsick.”
Dean’s hands were clenched in white knuckled fists, and his eyes were squeezed
shut. “I didn’t wanna go without him, but dad told me to. That was the last
time I saw them.”
“But I remember…” she began, only for Dean to open his eyes and grip her
shoulders.
“You have memories of Sammy? How?”
“You were travelling together. You guys were really close.” Caitlin felt her
throat close up a little at Dean’s anguished expression.
“What…” He had to stop and clear his throat. “What was he like?”
“He was taller than you, and really smart. You would tease him endlessly, and
he would pretend to hate it; but it was so obvious that you’d die for each
other if necessary.”
Dean swallowed visibly, loosening his grip on Caitlin’s shoulders only
minutely.
“You think, maybe, those memories are… that it could be real?”
“I have no idea. I mean… they’re the only memories I have.”
Something strange was happening. Caitlin felt dizzy. Dean looked worried, and
she could see his mouth moving but couldn’t hear him say anything. Then
everything shifted, and she was still looking at Dean. Wearing the same worried
expression but instead of the olive green T-shirt, he was wearing his green
coat. They weren’t in a hospital hallway but in a dark room with walls of
concrete, a low ceiling and no windows. A basement, probably. Dean was holding
her up, and she suddenly felt her entire body cramp up painfully. There was
movement around them, she heard Sam’s voice, talking to someone soothingly.
“What’s happening? Is this… is this real?”
***** Reality Check *****
Dean hugged Caitlin tight to him before lifting her into his arms and carrying
her to their car of the week, cursing its too hard seats with too much space
between them. Baby would have been the perfect place for Caitlin to lie down
and relax. Instead she would be stuck half sitting up in the passenger seat.
“Dean, please. Are you real?” Caitlin’s hand clutched his T-shirt and her eyes
seemed too big. Her voice was hoarse and her entire body was trembling.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m real.”
“What happened?”
“Djinn,” he said shortly, and of course that didn’t do anything to banish the
fear and confusion from her expression. “You’re safe,” he added, but she
remained tense. He framed her face with his hands, and did his best to calm her
down. “I gotta go help Sam. I’ll be right back, I promise. Just rest.”
Though exhausted, Caitlin couldn’t sit still. Too many questions screamed for
answers and she watched everything, the car, the street it was parked on, her
own body, through a distant haze. She got out and ran her fingers across the
car’s metal frame. It was gray beneath the mud, dull as every other color
around her. She knelt on the ground, let her hands glide over the coarse
blacktop and picked up a tiny white pebble. Her hair fell into her face as she
looked down and she gasped; she had forgotten about the blond hair color, the
pool game, Matt.
“Caitlin,” Dean yelled as he ran back to the car, Sam walking gingerly behind
him. “Caitlin, what are you doing down there?”
“Remembering,” she answered. “I think I know this is real now. But what
happened? What was I doing in that other place?” Both brothers had reached her
now, and Sam answered her question.
“It was a Djinn-dream. They’re poisonous. They create this dream world for your
mind to live in, while they feed on your blood.” Sam opened the door to the
passenger side and Dean grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet. Caitlin
let her fingertips drift across the puncture wound in her neck.
“Charming,” she muttered.
“C’mon, we gotta go, the ambulance and the police are on their way.” Dean was
practically shoving her inside the car and Sam had already gotten in the back.
“Ambulance? What?” She fastened her seat belt, and her eyes stayed on Dean as
he walked around the front of the car to get in the driver’s seat.
“The victim from last week was still alive. Barely. The others...” Dean’s
expression was grim. Caitlin realized that he had been shielding her from
seeing most of the room, when he carried her away from there.
“How many?” she whispered.
“You were the seventh. In this location.” Dean’s voice cracked a little and he
wasn’t looking at her. Caitlin’s hands flew to her mouth.
“Shit!”
They drove in silence for awhile. Then Dean spoke.
“Sam how are you doing? How’s the leg?” Dean wasn’t trying to get a glimpse of
Sam in the rearview mirror. He kept his eyes on the road ahead, knuckles
whitening where he gripped the wheel.
“‘s fine.” A long silence stretched between them.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” Dean suddenly admitted, causing both Sam and Caitlin to
stare at him. “I should have had your back, man.”
“Dean, you did have my back. I should have been able to take it alone, I knew
it was there.”
“I froze. I fucking froze. You could have been killed.” Dean’s voice cracked
again.
“I said I’m fine. Let it go.”
They drove for hours, not talking. Caitlin dozed in her seat, sometimes Dean
woke her to make her drink soda or eat what she could from crusted gas station
sandwiches. Finally consciousness reclaimed her and she caught road signs
informing her they were nearing Shreveport, Louisiana.
“Are we stopping soon?” She asked. “Sam, I’d like to take a look at that leg,
if you don’t mind.” Sam chuckled.
“Welcome back, Caitlin. It’s nothing, really, but you’re welcome to do your
thing.” She smiled at him, before turning to Dean.
“You better find us someplace to crash soon, Mister. Your eyes are coming loose
in their sockets and I don’t want to die in a ditch somewhere because you drove
us off the road.” Dean raised an eyebrow at her, before his mask of arrogance
wavered and he laughed.
“Welcome back and yes, Ma’am,” he smiled.
They ended up in an isolated barn, twenty miles out from the city, having
bought lots of bottled water and food at a Gas ‘n Sip an hour earlier. Sam’s
leg was mostly just a bad bruise, and Caitlin couldn’t do much but tell him to
take some Advil and stay off it when possible. Dean simply crashed on a hay
bale almost immediately, his snores a blatant evidence of how exhausted he was.
“How are you feeling?” Sam asked as he tossed a bag of Doritos at Caitlin. She
caught them one handed.
“Okay, I guess.” She opened the bag and put a couple of chips in her mouth.
“Everything was just… weird and I didn’t know what was happening.” Sam nodded
in understanding.
“Dean got caught once, and even though he knew what was happening, it got him
pretty turned around.”
“How?”
“That’s his story to tell, I guess,” Sam said with a glance at his sleeping big
brother.
“I thought Djinns granted wishes but specialized in making them turn out bad.
That’s what they’re like in stories,” Caitlin mused.
“That ain’t half wrong,” Sam agreed. “See the dream world its victims enter are
based on a wish.”
“A wish?” Caitlin suddenly felt cold all over.
“Yeah, a subconscious wish. Like it looks into your mind and figure out your
heart’s desire or something like that.” Caitlin gasped.
“No, that can’t be right. It can’t.” She looked at Sam in horror. ‘He was dead.
In my dream he was dead.’
“Sssh, Caitlin, not like that, whatever you’re thinking you misunderstand,” Sam
was saying. “Your dream is built around one wish, but when you make the wish
you have no idea what the consequences are. Your greatest wish can turn into a
nightmare. Just like in the stories.” The word consequences bounced like an
echo in Caitlin’s head until memories surfaced.
“I woke up,” she exclaimed. “The first wish, it didn’t work and I woke up.”
“How?” Sam asked, curious. Caitlin shrugged.
“Got hit by a car, I think.” She felt herself breathing faster, as she began to
understand. She had wished her parents were alive and the consequences, the
fact that she’d be happily married with children, had killed her. Her second
wish? That she could have met Dean under normal circumstances; that wish had
been tweaked because it had to conform to her special kind of normal.
The Dean she had dreamed of had been orphaned at seven, and Caitlin had been on
the streets long enough to know the horror stories of people growing up in ‘the
system’. ‘He still had all his scars.’ She got up and ran outside, dry heaving
and panting. For ten years she had been free, but she had done nothing to free
her mind. She had isolated herself so completely from everyone else that she
hadn’t even noticed how far removed from normal she was - until now.
Sam was by her side, rubbing her back gently, telling her to breathe with him,
counting out her breaths. It took time for Caitlin to calm down somewhat, but
when she did, she hugged him tightly to her.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m so sorry,” she said and even though Sam had no idea why
she would say that, he simply patted her back.
“It’s okay. No harm done,” he told her soothingly, wondering what the hell she
had been through while the Djinn had her. Lucifer was happily entertained and
Sam couldn’t get his hands free to dispel him. He kept counting breaths, this
time calming himself.
     Saul Mitchell slipped a hundred dollar bill to the cop at the front
     desk, silently cursing his stepdaughter. She’d pay him that money
     back with interest when he got her back.
     “Please,” he said ingratingly. “I just need to know that she’s okay.
     Please, please call me, if there’s any news.” The cop swiped the bill
     off the counter with a quick glance to either side.
     “Sure thing, pops. Will do.”
     Saul looked around to make sure the arrogant nigger from a couple of
     days ago wasn’t around, before leaving. Outside, he gave his two sons
     a thumbs up. It had been ten years without a clue on Sarah’s
     whereabouts. Now, though... They’d get her back.
***** When we sleep *****
Chapter Notes
     Please note that I've had to rethink my initial tagging for this
     story. Today, I have changed the tags due to this chapter. If you
     have no triggers, don't look, just read. If you have triggers, please
     read the tags before proceeding with caution. Thank you.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Dean slept for three hours and woke up regretting it thoroughly.
“Ugh,” he complained. “I think it would hurt less if my head was ripped off and
attached backwards.”
“My professional opinion is that you’re right, since you’d be dead if that
happened,” Caitlin smiled.
“Or a zombie,” Dean grinned. He turned towards Sam. “You know, we’ve never had
a case with real zombies. Just croats and that crazy organ harvesting doctor.”
Sam gave an exasperated snort at Dean’s plaintive tone.
“Wait, an organ harvesting doctor? Now you’ll have to tell me about that,”
Caitlin interrupted.
The brothers took turns telling her the story, Dean embellishing every detail
and Sam trying to stick to reality. While they talked, Caitlin sat on the
uncomfortable hay bale, directing Dean to the ground in front of her, so she
could loosen his muscles a little. Thus, Dean’s side of the story was littered
with little grunts and moans of pain and relief.
“So yeah,” Dean finally ended the story, “Sam totally had me thinking we were
going full on into a walking dead zone because of one crazy old fart.” Sam
shrugged at Caitlin and gave Dean a look as if to say ‘you know why’ which Dean
pointedly ignored.
“You guys sure have seen a lot of weird,” Caitlin mused. “I mean, there should
be books about you. ‘The Winchester Adventures’ or something.” The brothers
were both quiet long enough that the pause turned awkward.
“Yeah,” said Dean at last, his voice strangely thin. “Should they be in the
sci-fi or the fantasy section?” Sam stood up and began scooping up their
things, pointedly not looking at Lucifer who said “Or non-fiction or religious
texts?” and laughed heartily. Sam felt his hair try to stand on end at the
sound as goosebumps spread everywhere, and shivered.
When they were all seated in the car again, Dean looked to Sam.
“Where to now, Sasquatch?”
“We should check in with Frank, see if he’s got any news on Roman.”
“Right. The paranoid mandroid,” Dean said with a sigh.
“He’s not a mandroid,” Sam said with a chuckle.
“I know. But he is paranoid.” Dean turned the key in the ignition. “Alright,
let’s go find a payphone and spend half an hour trying to look inconspicuous
while coding the number and coordinates, and then wait for him to call.”
“Good times,” Sam said. Caitlin sat in the back seat, patiently waiting for the
brothers to remember her and explain Frank, the paranoid non-mandroid.
Hours later, when Dean had talked to Frank and Sam subsequently had confirmed
that they ‘had dick on Dick’ a mysterious death had them heading north, towards
Wichita. After a long drive, they found an empty house in a tough neighborhood
and made sleeping pallets from blankets and bags. An empty rickety cabinet
served as a barricade against humans, and all openings were salted. Sam spray
painted devil’s traps on the doors and on the black tarp covering the mostly
broken windows.
It was well after midnight when everything was secure and they sat on the
floor, munching snacks and drinking sodas. Caitlin listened to the brothers
talking about the case they’d be investigating the next day, something about a
man found dead with giant suction marks everywhere and the blood drained from
his body. ‘My life is so weird, how did I go from bartending and helping people
with sprained ankles to this?’
“Obviously, you’ll have to stay here,” Dean suddenly said to her. Caitlin
bristled.
“You know, as a doctor, I’m actually required to see dead people from time to
time.” She couldn’t help the sarcasm dripping from her voice. “I might be of
help.” Dean fixed her with a firm glare.
“You’re tagging along until we find you somewhere safe. You’re not hunting.”
His jaw clenched. “You’re not even going out to get breakfast, got it?”
“Fuck you, Dean.” Caitlin’s eyes shone with angry tears, her cheeks flushed.
How dare he? If she could just remember how the Djinn got her. Maybe she had
been weak and careless. Maybe Dean was right. She bit her cheek until it hurt,
willing herself not to cry. Dean stared at her, expecting her to hit him or
yell some more, biting back his own smart ass response of ‘yes please’. The
tension grew until Caitlin stood abruptly.
“I’m going to bed.”
When Caitlin got back from the bathroom, Dean was waiting.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I didn’t mean to… Look, I just want you to be safe,
okay?”
“I know,” she replied. “And I’ve tried to be safe for the past ten years. I
never realized how I... “ she trailed off, unable to finish.
“What?” Dean asked softly, fists clenched to stop them from reaching out to
her. The light from the lantern Sam had hung from the ceiling made it look like
her large brown eyes were half hidden under strands of light. Caitlin closed
the distance between them, molding her body against his and resting her head
under his chin.
“Being alive and safe isn’t the same as living,” Caitlin said, and locked her
arms around his neck. Dean returned her embrace wordlessly, fingers spread wide
across her back and in her hair.
It was some time later, in the faint glow of predawn that Caitlin woke from a
dream of a dream. She lay pressed up against Dean’s side and watched his chest
rise and fall in the slow, relaxed rhythm of sleep. Ten years. In ten years,
she hadn’t allowed anyone close enough, for her to have this. If it wasn’t for
Dean, she never would have. And there was still so much she couldn’t do,
couldn’t have. It wasn’t fair. They had taken and taken and taken, and even now
when she was free, they kept taking from her. Ten years and god knows how many
miles away from everything they did to her, and her choices were still based on
the past.
Dean is dreaming. He’s in hell. He doesn’t know how that happened. Maybe the
angels tossed him back. Not like Cas can get him out this time. Alastair is
smiling, his eyes twinkling before going white.
“There you are, Dean. What shall we do to you today? Your brother’s busy
fucking a demon, drinking her blood. He’s really making your deal count,
wouldn’t you say?” Dean can’t move, strung up as he is, already bleeding from
half a dozen wounds. He spits in Alastair’s direction.
“You’re lying. Sammy wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.” But he would. He did. Dean just
didn’t believe it. Not then. Sam killed Alastair. Why is Alastair here?
A soft whimper escaped Dean and Caitlin snuggled closer. His face contorted as
if in pain. She stroked his chest and stomach, whispering soothingly.
“Sssh, Dean, it’s okay. You’re dreaming. It’s okay.”
Alastair takes a knife, slides it lovingly over Dean’s skin; his eyelids, his
cheeks, his neck. He knows it’s coming, but the pain is still unbearable when
Alastair slides the knife into his throat and leaves it there. Blood wells into
his lungs and mouth, and Dean’s breath turns into ineffective gurgles. In hell,
there is no reprieve; no unconsciousness, no death. He doesn’t need air but
can’t help trying to get some. Can’t help feeling that he’s suffocating,
choking on his own blood.
Caitlin didn’t know what to do, as Dean lay gasping for air in his sleep.
Medically she was fairly sure nothing was wrong but whatever he was dreaming
had him terrified and unable to breathe. She crawled up to kiss his cheek and
rest her mouth at the corner of his.
“Come on Dean, you’re dreaming. Breathe with me. Relax.”
The peeler comes next. Of all the things that were ever done to him, he hated
this most of all. Losing pieces of himself little by little, slowly
diminishing, feeling the sharp blade bite into skin, muscles, nerves, tendons
and bones equally, disregarding the blood constantly flowing. In hell, blood
never stops flowing. Before he starts, Alastair asks his customary question.
“You can end this, Dean. You can get down. All you have to do, is this.” He
carves a long stripe of skin off of Dean’s thigh. It stings like a
motherfucking bitch, but not as much as the next slice will; Alastair always
dips the peeler in lemon juice in between his strokes. Dean’s voice doesn’t
work with the knife lodged in his throat, so all he can do is flip Alastair the
bird.
There was rage and terror and resignation on Dean’s face, and Caitlin put her
hands on his cheeks and patted him softly. He didn’t react and she rested her
forehead against his.
“Dean, wake up, wake up. You have to wake up!”
Gentle hands are taking him down, healing his wounds. At first he doesn’t
understand. He didn’t say yes. But he did. One time, he did. All too soon, he’s
whole again, being led back to the racks. He’s got work to do.
The woman they take him to is strung up as he was, naked and already bleeding
some. She’s quiet, but her brown eyes are huge, open wide with fear. He knows
her. Knows Caitlin, and his chest hurts, it hurts so bad, and he’s sure his
heart has stopped beating, but it’s hell. No reprieve, no unconsciousness, no
death. Not for her, not for Dean. And Dean’s got work to do.
Another whimper from Dean had Caitlin almost in tears. Her hands drifted to his
shoulders and she shook him hard.
“It’s a dream, dammit, Dean. Fucking wake up already.”
Alastair hands him his favorite tool; the bullwhip. In the hands of an expert,
like Dean, it can do almost anything. Small superficial scratches or bleeding
gashes several inches long. And only he knows where it’ll hit so his victims
can’t brace themselves for the pain. It’s all in the wrist.
“Please, don’t,” Caitlin is saying, over and over. Dean can’t help a sneer.
“Don’t beg me, bitch. You think you’ve had it tough? Someone made you suck
their cock, fucked your holes? Boo-fucking-hoo. I’m gonna show you real pain.
You’ll be begging me to let you suck me off before I’m done with you, you
hear?”
Dean hadn’t really moved, but his entire demeanor suddenly shifted. His mouth
was turned upwards in a cruel smile, and the tension in his muscles had turned
into coiled readiness. Like he was hunting. Caitlin stopped shaking him,
carefully monitoring what was happening.
Dean ignores Caitlin’s hurt look in favor of stroking the whip lovingly. He’ll
show her. All of it. The whip zings through the air, smarting over her left
breast, and more blood flows. Over and over, he lets it fly, opening wounds
everywhere on her body. Mostly, she’s silent, except for gasps and sobs. Hours,
maybe days, later, Dean holds back the next lash of the whip.
“You gonna suck me, bitch? Get down from there a few minutes?”
She’s sobbing, but she’s also nodding.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you, bitch!”
“Yes,” she screams. “Yes, please, let me down. I’ll do it. I’ll suck you off,
just stop.”
Whatever Dean was dreaming now, it wasn’t a nightmare anymore. Caitlin had
ended up straddling him, trying to shake him awake, and as he eased up, she had
let herself slide down a little to rest her head close to the sound of his
heart. Now she felt something poking at her stomach. Something that definitely
wasn’t there a few minutes earlier.
All it takes is a snap of Dean’s fingers and Caitlin is falling to her knees in
front of him. He makes quick work of his jeans and pulls out his cock, hard and
leaking, smearing precome on her cheeks and lips. He grabs a fistful of hair.
“Open,” he says and she obeys, tears silently wetting her face. Dean wastes no
time shoving himself down her throat, enjoying the way she gags, swallows and
tries in vain to breathe. Not like she can actually die, not here.
‘My choice,’ Caitlin thought and didn’t move. Dean began to thrust his hips
upwards, creating friction through the layers of fabric separating them. Her
breath hitched, and her fingers gripped his shoulders frantically, as she let
him move under her without pulling away.
Caitlin’s hands flail against his thighs, pushing, she’s trying to get away,
but Dean holds her easily. His balls tighten, and then she tries to scream
though he hasn’t let her breathe for minutes. The vibration creates a delicious
thrill, running through his entire body. He’s coming down her throat while she
coughs and chokes and fucking milks his cock and it’s perfect.
Suddenly Dean stilled, letting out a hushed moan, and Caitlin felt the warmth
and moisture from his release. She stared at him, wide-eyed and flushed, as his
eyes flew open.
Chapter End Notes
     Have you seen that this story has been turned into a 'verse? There
     are a few Extras and Outtakes concerning already published parts of
     the story that you can read without spoilery. Enjoy :)
***** If it bleeds *****
At first, Dean thought he was dreaming, still. Then the fact that he was lying
down with Caitlin on top of him registered. As she gave him a shy, winsome
smile, the unmistakable sensation of having come in his boxer’s kicked in, and
he was suddenly wide awake.
“Oh God,” he croaked, and scrambled to get up, dislodging Caitlin in his panic.
“I’m sorry. Sorry, so sorry.” He kept repeating ‘sorry’ as he grabbed a clean
pair of boxers and some clothes in his duffle and ran off to the bathroom.
Caitlin let herself fall back on the pallet, dazed. There was a wet spot on her
shirt, and she touched it reverently. Replaying the little noise and scrunched
up face Dean had made, she felt something tighten in her stomach. It wasn’t
unpleasant, but… strange.
Dean stood in the old dirty tub, pouring bottled water over himself. His skin
was easy enough to scrub clean, but it didn’t matter. Leaving only three
bottles for the others, he toweled off and put on his clothes. Rather than
going back to face Caitlin [oh god] he hurried to the front door, almost
tossing the barricade aside to get out.
He stopped at the sidewalk, looking around aimlessly. Heaving a sigh, he walked
around back and retrieved some emergency cash from the car; his wallet was
still inside the house. Armed with enough to pay for a diversionary breakfast,
he walked briskly down the street, his head buzzing.
What the hell had just happened. Never mind the nightmare or.. whatever. He’d
had dreams like that ever since hell and he had never had any desire to do any
of that shit when awake. Shit, he’d even dreamed it with Sam in Caitlin’s place
more than a couple of times. Thankfully, those times he’d woken up before…
before anything beyond the whip, or he’d have shot himself by now. But why had
Caitlin been on top of him when he woke up?
Also, coming in his sleep - not cool. Not cool at all. Christ, he was more than
thirty years old. Then again, he had been celibate since Monster Bitch. He
hadn’t even jerked off in the shower, his mind busy with hunting and… well
maybe he didn’t like doing it when Caitlin was right outside. So what if she
wasn’t interested and they were just friends - sleeping next to a girl like her
night after night would give any hot blooded male blue balls.
Wrapped up in his thoughts, Dean entered a 7-11, completely unaware of the
security cameras’ angles. He bought plenty of breakfasty foodstuffs as well as
snacks and sandwiches for Caitlin, because she’d be staying back in the house
all day. He wouldn’t budge to her stubbornness this time. His eyes
automatically went upwards and to the left, as he once again contemplated the
position he had woken up in. It would probably be best to ignore it. Unless she
decided to talk, he would pretend it never happened. That was Dean’s specialty
anyway, according to Sam.
Caitlin worried a little when she heard Dean leave the house. But Sam was still
here, so he’d be back. After the first hazy moments, she started feeling itchy
all over, a silent scream of ‘wrongdirtywrong’ rising inside her. Dean didn’t
seem the type to be bothered by it, but Jesus, she had more or less molested
him in his sleep. And he had apologized to her when he woke up. He couldn’t
trust her anymore, shouldn’t. No more nights without nightmares, no more nights
of feeling safe. What if he left her here in Wichita, what if he came back
soon, only to pick up Sam and barely look at her before taking off, before
leaving for good?
                                     XOXOX
Dean came back to find Sam and Caitlin huddled over the laptop, looking over
the coroner's report. Sam had been quick to take the tips Frank had given Dean
on hacking and apply the principles elsewhere. Fucking nerd. Dean smiled to
himself.
“So I was hoping you could tell me what enteroctopus dofleini means in this
context?” Sam was saying, frowning at the screen.
“Uhm, I think it’s a species of octopus?” Caitlin said, puzzled. Sam shook his
head.
“We’re definitely gonna have to talk to the guy who wrote this crap.”
When Dean entered, carrying several bags and acting completely normal, Caitlin
heaved a mental sigh of relief.
“Sounds like a plan,” Dean said to Sam in response to the conversation that had
been going on while he barricaded the door behind him. “Let’s eat.”
Caitlin didn’t protest when they left her alone for the day. She was still
worried that Dean might resent her and leave her behind. Besides, Sam made sure
she had a load of books; old, dusty tomes and things that seemed like the
ramblings of madmen. The only thing she’d be missing today was a couch to
lounge on.
By the time the brothers came back with Chinese for dinner, she had learned
more than she wanted to about old Mayan fertility rituals, the differences
between Haitian and New Orlean's Voodoo practices, Catholic prayers and had
given up on stomaching ‘The International Necromancy Spells and Rituals
Compendium’.
It was a quiet evening, no one was hurt for a change, and since another death
had taken place already, the case was too high priority to waste energy on
hustling pool. Dean made fun of Sam and Caitlin for ‘geeking out’ over the
stuff Caitlin had learned during the day, until he got bored and snatched the
necromancy compendium. Leafing through it, he managed to entertain the others
with disgusted sounds and disdainful snorts. Finally he put it down, shaking
his head.
“People are crazy,” he muttered.
He went to bed first and Caitlin followed a little hesitantly. He smiled at her
invitingly and shifted to make room for her, arm outstretched and ready to hold
her close. His heart was beating a little too fast as he watched her, but she
went to him willingly.
“I’m sorry,” she said when she was safely tucked against his side. “About this
morning. I thought you were having a nightmare and I tried to wake you, but…”
“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I should have appreciated
waking up like that a lot more than I did. ‘t was a nightmare, though. Sorry I
freaked.”
The silence grew between them but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There were things
neither of them were asking, because there were things neither of them were
willing to tell; and that was okay. They had this.
                                     XOXOX
Caitlin was bored out of her skull by noon the next day, when Sam banged on the
front door and yelled for her.
“Sam, what it is? Did something happen?”
“I need your help,” he said, his eyes looking up at her pleadingly from two
steps down.
“Sure, okay,” Caitlin said, then she paused. “You don’t mind me testing you, do
you?” Sam broke into a grin.
“Not at all, good thinking.”
Five minutes later, satisfied that Sam was neither leviathan, shapeshifter nor
demon, Caitlin strapped herself in the passenger seat, while Sam explained that
the trail led to a burger chain specialising in children’s parties.
“I have to sniff around and see what I can find,” he told her morosely. At her
unspoken question, he added: “I hate those places. They reek of stale food,
puke, abandonment and… and there’s clowns everywhere.”
Caitlin didn’t laugh, put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and when they stepped
through the doors to ‘Plucky’s,’ she looked every inch the silent partner. When
an employee dressed as a clown went to pass directly by Sam, she politely
intercepted the person with a mumbled explanation about an FBI investigation.
In the meantime, Dean had finished talking with the kid whose father had been
murdered by what seemed to be a unicorn. Getting back to an empty house had
been an unpleasant surprise. His calls going straight to Caitlin’s voicemail
another. By the time she and Sam showed up, he was half convinced another Djinn
had taken her and had no idea whether to hug her or yell at her. He stopped in
his tracks where he had been pacing and waited.
“Hey, Dean,” Caitlin greeted him cheerfully. “You back already?” Her face fell
when he didn’t answer and she registered his stony expression. “What’s wrong?”
“I thought we agreed you’d stay here. Where were you?” She looked at him,
perplexed, then glanced back at Sam, her eyes going wide.
“Dammit, Sam. You couldn’t have at least called?” Dean was quick to shift the
focus of his annoyance to his brother. Sam shrugged apologetically.
“Didn’t have any juice on the phone. Figured we’d be back sooner.”
“Caitlin doesn’t hunt with us!”
“I didn’t wanna go alone.” Dean’s eyebrows shut up and Sam continued. “If you’d
been willing to switch, you’d have nothing to complain about.”
“You brought Caitlin with you just to spite me, because you didn’t get your
favorite assignment? Since when are you this unprofessional?”
Caitlin didn’t hear Sam’s reply. It was crazy, because Sam and Dean were
nothing like her stepbrothers. Yet something about the way they argued turned
them into a picture superimposed on a scene from her childhood.
Cody had seen her with their father and Brad didn’t believe him and they had
been fighting, voices raised and fists clenched, while she slowly inched her
way backwards, ready to run. She had only made it halfway to the door, when
Cody grabbed her and said “I’ll show you,” to his brother. He had pushed her to
her knees, a hand fisted in her hair, the other one pulling out his dick.
Brad’s eyes nearly fell out, but before Cody spilled into her mouth, he was
standing next to his brother, jerking himself slowly, waiting for his turn.
They hadn’t let her go for another hour and a half, and when dinner was late,
their father had dragged her to her room for punishment, which of course meant
more of the same.
Sam and Dean stopped arguing to look at her when she was almost at the door to
the hallway. Caitlin couldn’t feel the tears running from her eyes as she ran
to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. The tub was cold, but small,
surrounding her almost everywhere as she curled into herself. It smelled a
little of sewer, the way it does when a drain isn’t used regularly. She rested
her forehead against the cold enamel, and let the waves of fear, hurt, hate and
anger wash over her.
***** Tears of a Clown *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
In Quantico, Penelope Garcia double checked the security footage from a 7-11 in
Wichita, that had been flagged by facial recognition software. There was no
doubt; the man staring almost directly into the camera was none other than Dean
Winchester. She picked up the phone to call Hotchner.
                                     XOXOX
The brothers watched in confusion as Caitlin disappeared into the bathroom.
“I wonder what that was about,” Sam remarked, their argument already forgotten.
“I guess something triggered her,” Dean said, pursing his lips. “Like the day
she almost drowned herself, and how she got after that leviathan got to her.”
They stood in awkward silence for a moment. “She must have really been through
some serious shit,” Dean added. Sam gave a small chuckle.
“It’s actually weird that stuff like that doesn’t happen to us.” He could have
slapped himself at Dean’s look of disbelief.
“Right. Yeah.” Dean shook his head in disgust and Sam ducked his head a little,
as he subconsciously rubbed his scarred hand.
After half an hour, Dean knocked softly at the bathroom door and called out to
Caitlin. When no answer came, he sighed, picked the lock, and entered. She was
lying in the tub, curled into fetal position, her eyes red rimmed and distant.
“C’mon, we gotta stop meeting like this,” Dean murmured as he sat down on his
haunches next to the tub. Slowly he reached out a hand to tuck wayward strands
of her hair back behind her ears. She didn’t acknowledge his presence at all.
“Well, fuck,” he said to himself and stood. Though Caitlin was a lithe woman,
lifting her out of the tub was no easy feat; he was rewarded as he angled her
through the door and she put her hands around his neck and rested her head
against his shoulder.
Sam had volunteered to get pizza and when Dean brought Caitlin into their room,
it smelled like melted cheese, pepperoni and bacon. Dean sank to the floor
without letting go of Caitlin, wincing as his knees protested. He rubbed her
back soothingly.
“You hungry?” Ever so slowly, Caitlin nodded and extricated herself from his
lap and went to sit beside him. She didn’t talk, as she juggled a large slice
of pizza; Dean let her eat in peace.
“So,” he said when she had finished. “We should probably talk about this, huh?”
Caitlin looked up and noticed Sam wasn’t there. “He’s gone to a café with wifi
to do some research,” Dean answered the unasked question.
Caitlin sighed deeply. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“Well it would be nice to know what triggers these fits. Last time I had to
carry you out of a building right under the nose of the real FBI.”
Caitlin gasped, the look on her face hurt as if he had slapped her. “I’m
sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not really your fault, right? We just… we need to know more so
we can help you better.”
“I never know what will send me back,” she began. “This time it was just the
two of you arguing. I don’t even know why it got to me that way.” Dean ran his
thumb across his lips, thinking.
“Do you get any warning at all before it happens?” He looked at her
expectantly.
“Sometimes. Today I kinda noticed before I got lost in it.” She shrugged and
kept her eyes on a spot on the floor.
“Can you tip us off, if it happens again? If you notice, I mean.”
“How? You want me to stop in the middle of being sucked into a memory and say
‘scuse me guys, I’m gonna time jump into my own personal hell now?’” She picked
up a shoe from the floor (one of Dean’s dress shoes) and threw it across the
floor. It hit the wall with a loud smack and ricocheted back towards them.
“You’re not the only one with some kind of hell lurking in the past,” Dean
stated quietly, eyes on the shoe as if it might suddenly take flight on it’s
own, now that it had become familiar with the concept. “We all deal in our own
way. It’s just that your way is potentially dangerous.”
Caitlin snorted angrily. “Says the guy who spawned a monster baby.”
“Hey!” Hurt was evident in Dean’s voice and Caitlin went and got him a beer in
silent apology.
“Our dad taught us a set of code words when we were kids,” Dean began after
taking a long drink. Caitlin raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
“You know, there was, uhm, ‘funky town.’ That means someone has a gun or some
other weapon on you and you’re forced to act normal.” Dean smiled vaguely.
“It’s been useful in the past.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And there’s ‘Poughkeepsie.’ Means drop everything and run. Or ‘McQueen’
if you need to break out of someplace.”
“Break out?”
“Mmh. You know, mental asylum, prison, police station’s holding cells. We’ve
had to get out of those on occasion.”
The smile almost hurt at first but Caitlin couldn’t hold it back.
“Dean, I’m gonna forget everything about becoming a doctor and start writing
books instead.” Dean winced as if in physical pain. “Please don’t.”
“Why not? No one will ever believe it’s real.”
“No. People will idolize our lives and write disgusting fan fiction and hold
conventions and get themselves killed by messing with shit they don’t
understand.”
“Whoa, easy there,” Caitlin laughed. “Conceited much?”
“No, cynical.” Dean picked at the label on his beer, his face thunderous.
Anger seemed to radiate off of him in waves and Caitlin fidgeted with her own
beer, until she inevitably had to break the strained silence.
“So how about them Twilight books, huh?” Dean’s eyes narrowed for half a second
before resting on her face. The crinkles around his eyes returned as his mouth
quirked upwards in a soft smile.
“That gonna be your code word?” Dean looked at her expectantly. Caitlin
frowned, backtracking.
“What, Twilight?”
He nodded. She chewed her lower lip. Sometimes it was like entering the
twilight zone. It was a word that could be used in a normal conversation with
relative ease if others were present.
“Yeah, why not.”
Dean put his arm around Caitlin’s shoulders and pulled her close to him. She
rested her head against his side, a small smile playing at her lips. She felt
Dean tense up slowly beside her, and the smile disappeared. Not done yet,
apparently.
“Caitlin,” he said tentatively. “You know that whatever happened to you… it
wasn’t your fault, okay?” She pushed away from him, her fists clenched.
“Don’t Good Will Hunt me. I know that, jerk.”
“Okay, Jesus. Sorry.”
He went to rummage in his duffel and placed a familiar book in front of her.
The album with photos of her parents, the one thing she hadn’t been ready to
leave behind in Seattle. Her wide eyes flitted between the album and Dean, her
breath coming faster and faster. Dean gave her a worried look.
“Remember to breathe,” he said softly. Caitlin found her voice.
“Remember to bre… you fucking... you knew… you went through my things, you…
you…” Dean waited for a stinging slap or a ringing fist to hit him, and then
the door opened and closed with excessive force.
“That went better than expected,” he muttered to himself, as he got up to
follow her. The next vampicorntopus was probably lurking just around the
corner.
He found her on the steps outside, breathing hard but not alarmingly shallow,
and sat down beside her.
“I found it when I broke in. I put it back when I heard you in the bathroom.”
He glanced up at her, unable to read her expression, though her tears bore
witness to her distress. “Caitlin, I never would have gone through your stuff
after… you know… after you stopped being a case.”
Caitlin met his eyes, her lips trembling from still crying hard.
“I don’t even know what’s worst. That you knew all this time or that I didn’t
get to tell you myself.”
Dean’s eyes widened in surprise.
“As if you would ever have told me,” he said with a wistful smile.
They sat in silence for a long time.
“I was too young when my dad died to know any of the details,” Caitlin then
began. “I just know he was killed in action.” She fiddled with her hands until
Dean reached over to hold them in his own, stroking his thumbs lightly over her
knuckles. “It broke my mom. I never heard her laugh after that. Not once. She
only ever smiled at me, sad smiles that looked like she’d rather cry. She
worked a lot and usually our next door neighbor would look after me.” Caitlin
sighed deeply. “Mom was always so tired and I helped the best I could. Then she
started seeing Saul. She never seemed that enthusiastic about it but when he
proposed to her, she said yes.”
“She wanted you to have a family?”
“Maybe. I guess. Saul had two sons, three and five years older than me.”
Caitlin couldn’t stop a shiver running through her entire body. “For a few
months we were like a hallmark card for homey bliss. Then mom started getting
worse. There were doctors’ appointments and a cupboard with medications that
took up more and more space. Her hair fell off and turned gray.” Caitlin was
crying again now, tears for her mother’s suffering. Dean leaned against her
wordlessly.
“I guess Saul didn’t exactly get what he bargained for. The honeymoon was
barely over before his bride turned into a mere husk of the woman he had
married. Maybe he really loved her and the grief drove him mad. I don’t know.
He acted normal but he was simmering on the inside the whole time.” Caitlin
closed her eyes. It had been a dark time, seven years old, attending first
grade, still missing her dad and worried for her mother. The danger rolling off
of her step dad continuously, though she couldn’t point out a single thing to
cause the fear inside her. The jibes and quips and teasing from her ‘brothers.’
She had been crying every single time she had time to herself.
“Mom tried to keep the house, no matter how sick she got and I helped. Then,
when she was gone, and the last meal left over from friends and neighbors had
been eaten, Saul told me that dinner was my duty from then on.” His light gray,
cold eyes had pierced right through the girl Caitlin had been. He hadn’t seen
her sorrow and loneliness. He had seen a pair of hands that could work. And
work she had.
“Hey guys. Why are you sitting out here?” Sam’s face fell as his brother gave
him a ‘I could fucking kill you myself right now’-look. From the way he and
Caitlin were sitting huddled together it wasn’t too hard to guess that he had
interrupted something. He gave an apologetic shrug. “It’s late. We should be
heading over to Plucky’s.”
“What?” Dean obviously had no idea what Sam was talking about, while Caitlin
perked up in recognition.
“There’s a janitor there, wants to tell us something. He wouldn’t talk earlier
when there were too many people around,” Sam told Dean. “He’s probably just a
loony who sniffed the glue too often, but we should check.”
“Alright,” Dean said. “We’ll go, all three of us.” Caitlin looked surprised at
that, but was quick to get on her feet.
They were watching as a gurney left Plucky’s, bag containing a body strapped
onto it.
“So get this,” Sam said after a quick look around. “The cops think the ball
washer did it.”
“The what?” Dean asked, face completely straight.
“The ball washer,” Sam repeated.
“The what?” As Sam realized his mistake, Caitlin gave up holding back her
laughter, and ran back a ways. They could hear peal after peal of laughter
coming from her, as she rested her hands against a wall and leaned forward.
“Is she okay?” Sam said, worried. Lucifer was telling him she was going crazy,
how Sam’s mental state was obviously contagious and Dean would be next.
Dean gave a small smile that didn’t look happy at all. “She’s as fine as you
and me.”
The next day, they spent a few hours at a diner with outlets, getting
everyone’s phones and Sam’s laptop juiced up. After that the brothers
interrogated the employees at Plucky’s, Sam livestreaming to Caitlin back in
the house. It wasn’t that they expected her to notice anything new, but it was
probably better entertainment than reading old dusty books. After Sam went to
protect a possible victim and Dean went to investigate the sub-basement at
Plucky’s, Caitlin couldn’t sit still. She paced the length and width of the
house over and over, getting closer to the front door with every pass, until
she couldn’t stand the silence and the loneliness anymore.
‘I’ll just find a Starbucks and get some coffee,’ she told herself.
Before she could turn the doorknob, the brothers entered, Sam looking a lot
worse for wear and exceptionally shiny. Dean was carrying a giant rainbow
Slinky.
“Caitlin, look,” he said gleefully. “Spoils of war.”
Caitlin merely raised one eyebrow at him. “I guess we’d better squat somewhere
with stairs next time.”
Chapter End Notes
     If you're not triggered by sexual abuse/child abuse I've just posted
     a new chapter in this verse in the 'Outtakes and Extras' story. It
     gives you a little more insight in what Caitlin is talking to Dean
     about when Sam interrupts them.
***** Left Behind *****
“Mr. Mitchell? I’m just calling to inform you that one of the men suspected of
kidnapping your step daughter has been seen in Wichita, Kansas.”
                                     XOXOX
“I can’t believe you actually got beat up by a bunch of killer clowns.” Caitlin
was laughing but she sounded sympathetic all the same. They were eating burgers
and fries, sitting on the floor.
“Yeah,” Sam smiled. “Not the best day of my life.” His phone started vibrating
and then playing something Sam would never ever in a million years call music.
He scrambled to answer it while Dean smirked in satisfaction.
“Was that Pantera?” Caitlin was laughing so hard now that her stomach hurt.
“Yup.” They stopped grinning as they heard Sam’s tone change.
“Yes, this is Agent Watts, what can I do for you?”
Someone was speaking at the other end of the line, when Sam cut in.
“We put a stop to that, it’s impossible.”
After another pause, Sam looked stricken and slightly nauseated.
“Fuck. Well, I guess we’ll be packing up for Coeur d’Alene.”
After saying goodbye, Sam sighed deeply.
“That was Detective Sutton. They’ve had three murders exactly like the ones
back when, you know...” He gave Dean a meaningful look.
“Shit.” Dean felt like he’d swallowed a bag of ice. A couple of nights ago he
had had that awful hell-dream, but this was worse. Coeur d’Alene was where he
had done some of those things to someone. They had been so desperate back then,
it hadn’t even felt wrong. It had been so shortly after hell that it had felt
right. Dean didn’t want to go back.
                                     XOXOX
A few hours later, Caitlin waved goodbye to the brothers, hunched over in the
doorway to a house with no power, no water, no heat. Half the blankets that
made up the makeshift pallet she and Dean had shared were gone. She had a
hundred dollars and no oxygen entering her lungs, or so it seemed. There was an
ache so deep inside her bones it had to be buried in her soul. She had been
alone for ten years and she had never minded; now she would be on her own for a
week or two, and she wasn’t sure how to survive.
She sat in the room they had spent so much time in together, going over the
case, eating and teasing each other good naturedly. Most of the books were
gone, couldn’t be left behind when they might be useful for the new case.
Occasionally, a car would drive by but other than that all she had was silence.
“No, you absolutely cannot come with us,” Dean had said. “It’s too close to
Seattle, and if this case is what it seems, you’d be a target with a capital
T.” There was a glimmering sheen over his eyes and his jaw twitched as he
spoke. She couldn’t make herself argue when he looked like that. Whatever was
happening between them would have to wait until this ‘job’ was done. Oh the
irony of not having a paying job and still not be able to take a day or two off
now and again.
The black windows stared at her blindly, the air was solid around her,
impossible to to breathe. She had been alone for hours, time had lost its
meaning. She had watched a small spider crawl the entire length of the large
once-upon-a-time living room; she had practiced forwards, backwards and
sideways rolls, done sit-ups and push-ups, squats and jumping jacks until her
muscles burned. She was done sitting, standing and walking around this empty
house alone.
She opened the door to reveal a darkening night sky and unlimited air, clear
and sweet.
Running, she reached the ‘wifi-diner’ in ten minutes. She jacked up her phone
and ordered a chicken salad. While waiting for her order, she noticed a tall
and slender man with short shaved hair entering, smooth skin indistinguishable
from the mocha latte in her cup. His eyes went to hers and widened almost
imperceptibly, before continuing to scan the room. Caitlin grabbed her phone,
ready to run as soon as he turned his back. He didn’t. He went directly to her
booth and sat down opposite her.
“I’m a friend of the Winchesters,” he said before she could say or do anything.
“Christo,” Caitlin said. Nothing remarkable happened. The man smirked.
“I’m Derek Morgan. Senior supervisory special agent with the Behavioural
Analysis Unit of the FBI. I’m not possessed, I’ll let you cut me with silver if
that helps, and I’m not going to take you in, so please wait while I redirect
my team to eat their dinner somewhere else. DON’T LEAVE.”
Caitlin blinked, stunned, as Derek pulled a phone out and made a call.
“Prentiss, hey. Listen that diner we’re meeting in? I swear to God the biggest
rat I’ve ever seen just ran across the floor behind the counter.
…
No kidding. I don’t think it’s cooking Ratatouille, so why don’t you guys find
somewhere else. I’ll just alert the FDA.
…
Yeah, great. See you later.”
He put away his phone and gave her reassuring smile.
“So, Caitlin. It is Caitlin, not Sarah, right?” She nodded, speechless. “Where
are you hiding Itchy and Scratchy?” She closed her mouth tightly, tensing up.
“They need to know the FBI is here looking for them,” Derek said. “I’m the only
one who knows the truth.” Caitlin exhaled slowly.
“They’re not here anymore.” She looked out the window longingly and missed the
double-take Derek made.
“What? They left you here?”
“They had to. Case came up that was too dangerous.”
“Will they be back?”
Caitlin shrugged at that. Caught as she was for now, she’d act as if she
believed the man but she didn’t trust him.
“Well, you can’t stay in Wichita when the team is looking for you. It’s too
risky.” Derek’s words were soft, but their meaning hurt. Caitlin imagined
packing up her meager belongings and spending her last money on a Greyhound
ticket. Starting over in another town, all the way from scratch. Tears burned
behind her eyelids and she cleared her throat angrily. Derek spoke again.
“We profiled you back in Seattle, so I know you don’t trust me. But I’ll help,
if you let me.”
Her eyebrows rose in disbelief, and he sighed.
“Later tonight, I’ll get you away from here, find you somewhere safe to stay
for now.”
Caitlin simply stared at Derek, until her brain came online again. ‘compiling,
compiling, input does not compute.’ She shook her head to clear it and grabbed
her phone. Dean answered on the third ring.
“Hey Caitie, everything okay?”
“Do you guys know an FBI agent named Derek Morgan?”
Through the phone, she heard Dean laugh the way he rarely did.
“Yeah, we do. Why?”
“Because he’s in town with his team and he wants to help me get out of here and
further away from them.”
“Lemme talk to him.”
Wordlessly, Caitlin handed the phone to Derek.
“Hey Dean. What were those things looking like you and Sam?”
…
“If I tell you they disappeared from the morgue…”
“Crap,” came the tinny outburst from the speaker and Caitlin hid a smile. Dean
continued to talk some more.
“Yeah, well it is procedure to assemble body parts, resembling the way they
were originally when processing them.”
…
“No, I’m definitely keeping my mouth shut. The guys’ theories about the
infamous Winchester brothers and how they keep faking their own deaths are
getting ridiculously entertaining, though.”
“Not faking anything,” Caitlin heard faintly.
“Maybe you should start,” Derek said, grinning. “It’s gotta be better than the
real thing.” When no reply came, Derek frowned. “Dean?”
“Yeah.”
“So how about I get your girl set up somewhere outside of town later?”
…
“Great. I’m sure we’ll be running into each other again. Say hello to Sam for
me. Bye.”
Caitlin got her phone back and put it against her ear.
“Dean?”
“Yeah, go with Derek. You can trust him. Don’t expect him to be of any use
against anything supernatural, but he’s a good guy.” She could hear the
laughter in Dean’s voice as if he was remembering something funny. ‘Memo to me;
ask Derek about that later.’
“Okay. Say hi to Sam from me too. Bye. And Dean… Take care.”
“Always, Caitie. See you soon.”
Derek told her to meet him later at the diner and left to have dinner with his
team. Caitlin walked quickly back to the house, packed her belongings and did
her best to erase any trace of their stay. Then she dragged her duffle back to
the diner and ordered coffee. While she waited, Dean texted her to say that
they were back at their hideout for the night, safe and sound. An hour later,
Sam texted her that Dean was tossing and turning so much he couldn’t sleep, and
missed her being there to keep his idiot big brother calm. She spent the rest
of the wait writing back and forth with Sam, hopefully distracting him from
whatever horrors really prevented him from sleeping.
When Derek showed up, he ushered her into a rental car.
“Believe it or not,” he said with a chuckle, “after my third run-in with the
Winchesters, I took a page out of their book and made myself a set of fake ID.
No one will ever know we were near each other.”
Caitlin nodded. The radio blared out some generic pop song, not Zeppelin or Bob
Seger. Derek was a stranger sitting too close and the car smelled plain wrong.
No gunpowder and leather, not the orangey smell of Sam’s shampoo. Her hands
gripped her thighs hard enough to hurt, as she focused on breathing steadily.
Derek watched how tense Caitlin was, how it was getting worse.
“So do you want to hear about how I know the Winchesters?” Things would be
better if he could distract her, and even though he still felt embarrassed
about it, those stories would hopefully make her laugh. She glanced at him
before going back to staring out the windshield.
“Sure.”
The foolishness of it all did make her laugh, and they spent some time driving
in comfortable silence.
“I don’t really want to bother you with this, but I feel like it would be
unwise not to tell you,” Derek suddenly said. Caitlin felt cold fingers squeeze
around her heart, somehow knowing what was coming before the words were spoken.
“Your step dad and brothers are looking for you. That’s how the FBI found out
your real name.” He slowed down the car to really look at her. “I promise they
won’t find you. I told them myself they wouldn’t get access to any information
about the case, okay?”
Caitlin stared at him, her expression frozen in panic.
“Why not?”
“Because… Caitlin, what we do? We’ve seen stories like yours too often to not
recognize it. Even if we can’t prove it, we know they mistreated you. Since
you’re an adult and haven’t had any contact with them since you disappeared,
we’re not obligated to tell them anything.”
She drew a deep breath.
“Thank god.”
Derek pulled off the highway and drove through the darkness.
“It’s not my place to say this, but have you ever considered therapy?”
“What?!” Caitlin’s response was shrill, incredulous.
“Hey, I saw that guy who called himself your dad. It must have been hell for
you back then. The man was a grade A asshole abuser if I ever saw one.” Derek
paused, mentally bracing himself. “And I did see one.”
Caitlin’s eyes widened as they traveled up and down his toned body and her
mouth fell open. Derek couldn’t suppress a smile. “I wasn’t always this tall
and handsome,” he joked. “But that’s beside the point. There will always be
someone fast, strong, devious or just lucky enough to get the jump on you.
Afterwards, we have to deal with the shame and guilt. Why we couldn’t stop it,
why it happened to us and not someone else, how we can ever trust anyone
again…” He regarded her, watched her process his words and nod slowly. “That’s
what therapy is for.”
Caitlin couldn’t help a snort. “We do take psychology lessons in med school,
you know.”
“You think that’s good enough? Reading about it?” Derek hit the turn signal and
parked in front of an old motel that hadn’t been renovated in decades. From the
heaps of trash and debris around the parking lot, it probably hadn’t been
cleaned in decades either.
“What difference does it make? Reading about it, or having someone telling me
about it, it’s all the same right?”
“Therapy isn’t someone quoting psychology textbooks at you,” he grinned. “It’s
someone trained to help you heal the scars that knowing the theory will never
erase.”
“Right. Someone digging into a past I’d rather forget. I think I’ll pass.”
“But you haven’t forgotten, have you?” Derek pulled the handbrake and
unfastened his seatbelt, and leaned slightly towards her. Caitlin automatically
drew further away while unfastening her own seatbelt. “Let me guess,” he
continued, watching her intently. “You have nightmares and flashbacks as well
as more controlled memories. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but everything
about you screams raging PTSD.”
“I’m fine.” She opened the door and climbed out quickly.
***** Demons of the Past *****
“Dad why are we staying so far away from the city?”
“Because, Brad, with what we’re planning to do when we find Sarah, it’s better
if no one knows we were ever in Wichita.” Saul shook his head in disgust at his
younger son’s stupidity.
“But there’s nothing to do here. Look, a parking lot and a Gas N Sip. Me’n Brad
are gonna die of boredom before we find her,” Cody interjected. As they looked
out the window to behold the boring parking lot, a blonde walked by. He
whistled. “Maybe it’s not so bad here after all.”
Saul recognized the FBI-agent trailing after the strangely familiar blond
figure and narrowed his eyes.
“You know what sons. I think here is absolutely perfect.”
                                     XOXOX
Jeffrey finished listing his injuries after their last encounter, quoting the
doctor telling him ‘he looked like he’d had a run-in with the spanish
inquisition.’ Dean kept his face carefully blank, while the words echoed inside
him. Hopefully, Jeffrey had no idea how much it had cost Dean to restrain
himself, to make sure the little guy would survive the ordeal back then. No
idea how the flowing blood and sound of breaking bones, the screaming, had made
Dean feel alive. It had been simple, easy, to do what he and Sam thought was
necessary back then. Not like trying to break his ‘mentor’ had felt a couple of
months before that. Now Dean was forced to face what his actions had cost
Jeffrey in the aftermath of the possession, and he felt like a monster.
Before leaving with Jeffrey to find the demon, he found himself calling
Caitlin. He just wanted to check up on her and if her voice happened to slow
his heart rate and relax his muscles, that had nothing to do with anything.
“Hey Caitlin. Where’d you end up?” His voice sounded rougher than usual.
“Some dump an hour northeast of Wichita. Dean, are you okay?” She was starting
to know him too well.
“Yeah. Yes. Peachy. Going to follow a lead now, talk to you later. Take care,
Caitie.” He hung up before she could answer ‘you too’ or ask him what was going
on.
Caitlin was left staring at the phone, alone in a large, one-bed motel room,
musty smelling and badly lit; probably hiding years of grime in the dusky
corners.
“You better talk to me later,” she muttered and sighed as the TV merely
sputtered indignantly and died when she pressed on.
                                     XOXOX
Caitlin regained her senses slowly. Her left temple throbbed in time with her
pulse and she felt sticky liquid oozing over her face. She moved her left hand
to wipe at it and found that she was hogtied. A loud rumbling noise began and
everything came back to her.
She had been in the room, lying on top of the covers (only God knew what might
hide under them), waiting to hear from Dean or Sam again. There had been a
knock on the door that she had pointedly ignored; probably not the desk clerk
apologizing for the cleaner being a decade or so late. Then the door had burst
inwards with a resounding thud, and the men she had sworn never to lay eyes
upon again advanced on her. Heart pounding, she had scrambled to stand behind
the bed, eyes casting around desperately for a weapon. She snagged the
nightstand, tilting it horizontal, ready to block an attacker. When Saul dove
for her, the wire caught in the outlet before she could block him, and he hit
her head hard with the butt of a knife.
She was tied up in the trunk of a car and it was Saul driving it. They were
taking her home.
                                     XOXOX
“Screw consciousness, that’s what I say.” Dean was already half asleep, still
dressed and lying on the floor with just a bag for a pillow.
“Shouldn’t you call Caitlin first, let her know we’ll be seeing her in a day’s
time?” Sam kept his eyes straight at his brother, ignoring Lucifer’s smug
suggestions that Dean was hurt and hadn’t told Sam about it; that he was
fading, dying.
“You call her,” Dean said without opening his eyes. As memories of fire rose
around Sam, he figured he probably should call Caitlin, but when he tried she
didn’t answer. Lucifer suggested he try from Dean’s cell, and since Sam had
nothing left to lose, he did. Still no answer. The cold flames of the
Morningstar enveloped him entirely.
Dean woke with aching and creaking joints but feeling rested. He spent a few
minutes contemplating Sam’s yoga pose, trying to figure out what was going on.
“Sam, man, what are you doing?” Sam’s form continued to sit unmoving, his eyes
staring vacantly into nothing. Dean put a hand on his shoulder. “Sammy?”
Sam startled a little, his eyes met Dean’s and Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He
hadn’t seen Sam so out of it since the night he almost offed himself.
“I think I’m in trouble,” Sam said and Dean felt his chest constrict.
Caitlin’s phone went straight to voicemail when they called her to find out
where to pick her up. Sam traced it to the Viking Motel, Lindsborg, while
Lucifer danced and sang happily around him. They cut five hours from the twenty
hour drive, Dean cursing up a storm missing his Baby, calling Caitlin every
thirty minutes. Sam even used a burner to call Derek Morgan who confirmed that
he’d left Caitlin in Lindsborg, set up for a week. All he could provide was a
room number.
They couldn’t get into the room when they finally arrived. Worried, Derek had
checked in with the motel to learn about the thrashed door to Caitlin’s room.
After promising Garcia the moon and the stars, she checked the security cameras
of the motel, no questions asked. The girl was a genius; erasing Derek from the
footage. What she was going to make him do to make up for that, or what
questions she would want answered, he’d worry about another day. Caitlin was
now, once again, a case for the BAU and this time, the Mitchells were their
primary suspects.
Dean pulled at his hair in desperation when he saw the crime scene tape
covering the empty door frame. Sam didn’t know what to do either. He was
exhausted, no sleep for more than two days and every time he nodded off,
Lucifer woke him the hell up. Hell being the key word. Now, Lucifer was
pointing towards the office. Sam slapped his hand on Dean’s shoulder and pulled
him in that direction, pointedly ignoring Lucifer’s smug expression.
The clerk looked up in surprise when they entered and then scrambled for
something under the desk. Wordlessly he held out an unsigned envelope. Sam took
it and they went back to sit in their car of the week, while he opened it. The
message was from Derek, giving them all the so far known details, including the
Mitchell family’s last known address in Arkansas.
“Police has already been to the farm; there’s nothing there. We’re flying out
tonight to look for clues in the area. I know you’ll look too. I should hope we
find them first but I don’t care. I just hope Caitlin will be found fast. - DM”
“We need to call Frank,” Sam said. Dean agreed. Dick Roman could wait.
                                     XOXOX
Time didn’t exist. Caitlin’s wrists and ankles hurt, as did her fingers and
feet; blood circulation wasn’t cut off but it wasn’t good either. She was on
her side but it would still suck to lie here next to a pool of vomit.
Nevertheless, motion sickness and the probable concussion made it difficult to
keep her stomach contents down. At some point she noticed light spilling
through the cracks around the hatch. They had been driving all night and now it
was day; they weren’t going home after all.
At some point the pressure on her bladder became too much and she had to let
go. The smell didn’t help with her nausea and it didn’t take long for her to
start shivering with cold. Had the brothers discovered she was missing yet? Or
had something happened to them after her short conversation with Dean? He had
sounded so out of it. Maybe no one was coming for her. The car stopped and
though her throat was parched by now, she yelled for help. Well, croaked for
help. Whispered for help.
The hatch opened and three smug faces looked at her.
“Oh my god, she peed her pants,” Cody grinned. “That’s disgusting, Sarah.”
“I just thought you’d be thirsty, Sweetheart,” Saul said and held a bottle of
water to her lips. He let her drink until it was empty. Then the hatch was
closed and soon the engine rumbled back to life. Caitlin wasn’t worried about
what would happen later anymore. She was too busy reliving the past.
***** Chasing the Wind *****
Frank’s wife and daughters might be dead but he was an imaginative guy. It came
with being paranoid, which he was, if you’re still paranoid when someone’s
really after you. He understood the change of priorities. He called back after
only three hours.
“It’s me.”
“Frank, please tell us you’ve got something.”
“You can start heading east.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes that’s all. It’s more than the FBI tech genius has and she’s actually
pretty good. Looking pretty much the same places as me.”
Sam wasn’t fit to drive. Seeing things not there? Not really a reassuring
feature in your designated driver. Thus, after almost 30 hours, they had to
pull over so Dean could sleep. ’As if.’ But if you’re tired enough, apparently
sleep will take you.
When the old nightmare of Alastair once again turned into violent, forceful sex
with Caitlin, Dean couldn’t keep all the coffee, energy drinks and sugary
snacks he’d been going on down. Those things could be happening to her right
now; probably was. Yet here he was, waking up with a boner. Someone should just
shoot him now. As long as they made sure to save Caitlin.
No one showed up with a .45 so Dean got behind the wheel again, ignoring Sam’s
attempts at getting him to rehydrate and -carbohydrate instead of telling him
loudly and vehemently to shut the fuckity fucking fuck up. Sam was all kinds of
miserable partying with Lucifer already, no need to make things worse on him.
Frank didn’t answer until the fourth time they called him.
“You wanna chat or you want answers,” he spat into the phone when he finally
accepted the call.
“We’re in Louisville, Kentucky. Just wondering if we’re going further east or
maybe veering off?”
“Last sighting of their pile of rust was Knoxville, they took I40. That was
seventeen hours ago. I’m sorry but if they switched cars I’m out of luck until
they use a credit card.”
Frank sounded more genuinely sorry than he had ever done during their hunt for
Dick Roman.
                                     XOXOX
At some point, Caitlin threw up. It wasn’t so much the car’s movements or even
the water sloshing in her stomach. It was the twilight in her mind, the echoes
of Saul teaching her to ignore her gag reflex. When she returned to reality,
the smell was almost the same as when she had cleaned up after herself (and
him) back then. She wriggled herself as far from the disgusting puddle as she
could.
The restraints were tight, the trunk was too dark to see properly. Caitlin kept
squirming in the confined space, flexing her fingers, hoping to grasp onto
something, anything, that might be useful. Even after covering everything once,
she kept going. Staying occupied was staying in the present, and suck as that
might, it was still better than disappearing into another flashback. Chances
were if that happened now, she wouldn’t even notice the difference when she
woke back up.
She tested how much she could move, and found it wasn’t enough to make any
attempts at fighting and running when the trunk was opened. If she didn’t know
the true meaning of ‘being well and truly fucked’ the expression would have
applied. As it was, it definitely would later. She’d have to bide her time and
wait for an opportunity. It would come, as it had done before. Something wet
touched her cheek and she startled. It was just tears though. This time.
                                     XOXOX
“Come on Frank, you gotta have something else by now!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Dean, Dean! Your knuckles will hurt more than the dashboard.”
“Sammy…”
“Let’s call Morgan, see if there’s any news on his end.”
“What did he say?”
“Stop calling, can’t talk. No news.” Sam relayed the text message, face solemn.
“Dean we have to stop again. We have no idea where to go from here and you need
to sleep.”
                                     XOXOX
They pulled Caitlin out of the trunk and ignored her cries of pain when her
bound limbs were jostled. She was dropped unceremoniously on the ground and
hosed down with water cold enough to sting. Dizzily, she tried to breathe
through it, hitching as her body began to tremble from exhaustion and cold. The
surroundings were unfamiliar, this wasn’t the old farm. There were no landmarks
to help her figure out where she’d been taken. When she was lifted up again in
a fireman's carry (awkward because of the way she was tied) she didn’t make a
sound, though the pain forced tears in her eyes.
She was left in a small dark room, only slightly larger than a closet. Besides
herself, it was completely empty, no other doors, no windows. The walls and the
floor were bare concrete, rough surfaces with no gaps. A key turned in the lock
and she was left alone to catalogue her woes. In her still wet clothes, the
temperature was the worst problem. It was normal, as far as indoor temperatures
go, but to her, wet and immobilized, the air felt freezing. She couldn’t stop
shivering and rattling her teeth.
Her eyes were closed and she had started feeling almost numb when the key
turned again and she startled awake. All she could do was lie there and watch
the door swing open to reveal who was behind it and what they wanted. ‘Nothing
good, for sure.’ Saul stepped inside, carrying a glass of water and a plate
with french fries.
“I figured you’d be hungry, Sweetheart,” he murmured and kneeled beside her. He
reached out to stroke her cheek and withdrew quickly. “Sarah, you’re ice cold.
Sorry. Hold on a second.” He left her there, left the glass and the plate, left
the door open. Caitlin stared at the enticing dark rectangle and sobbed. She
began worming her way towards it.
Thirty six inches. That was how far she got, before Saul returned with a thick
blanket and a pair of scissors.
“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes and warm again, Sweetheart,” he said
and sounded infuriatingly caring and sincere. Caitlin didn’t respond at all,
closed her eyes and focused on breathing steadily, while the hard steel from
the scissors glided over her body accompanied by the rhythmic ‘snip snip’ as
her clothes were cut. Saul’s hands took their time gliding over her, separating
the cloth from her clammy skin.
“I missed you so much. I can’t believe you’re really here. Ten years. I waited
ten years, not knowing, in the dark, thinking… thinking I’d lost you both.”
He cupped a breast, his eyes dark and needy, and Caitlin resigned herself to
the inevitable. Just then, Brad showed up in the doorway.
“Shouldn’t she eat first, Dad?” His tone was meek, subdued and he was looking
at the floor, rather than at his father groping his naked step sister on the
floor. Saul’s eyes flashed with anger, but he moved away from Caitlin.
“Help me get her to sit up,” Saul grumbled and Brad hurriedly obeyed. Brad left
quietly afterwards and Saul fed Caitlin. Too weak to do anything that wouldn’t
just make things worse, she refrained from biting his fingers.
The last fry disappeared into Caitlin’s mouth and Saul watched her chew with
rapt attention.
Then Brad’s voice sounded from somewhere far off. “Dad! Delivery guy’s here,
needs your signature!”
Saul thumped his fist hard into the floor next to Caitlin before getting up and
leaving, taking glass and plate with him and this time locking the door behind
him.
                                     XOXOX
“Sam, you look really tired.”
“Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
“Any news?”
“You don’t think I woulda told you?”
                                     XOXOX
Caitlin’s eyes had drifted closed again when Saul entered, holding a package.
“I’m never losing you again. And you’re no use to anyone tied up like that.” He
opened the box and pulled out a metal collar. Saul barely skimmed the
instructions before placing the thing around her neck and the lock closed with
an ominous click.
“If you try to touch the lock you’ll get zapped. If you misbehave, you’ll get
zapped. Understood?”
“What’s the amperage on this thing?” She’d get zapped sooner or later, so she
might as well know if her idiot stepfather would inadvertently kill her when it
happened. Saul scowled at her.
“I asked you if you understood the rules.”
“And what I want to know is whether I’m gonna die if I break them or just
experience excruciating pain. What’s the amperage?”
Saul’s fist clenched and unclenched several times. “You grew quite a mouth on
you while you were gone.” His eyes searched the instructions while he spoke,
voice low and angry. “It says 4.5 milliamp. Now tell me, do you understand the
rules?”
“Yes.”
“Good. And add mouthing off to that list.”
Caitlin didn’t say anything and watched Saul’s eyes narrow.
“What was that?”
“No mouthing off. Understood.”
“Good girl. Now let’s get you untied, you gotta be hurtin’ by now.”
“Yes.” Tears threatened behind Caitlin’s eyelids at the sound of her meek voice
when she answered. The sound of that little girl, forever inside her; that
helpless, vulnerable doll she could never get away from.
                                     XOXOX
“Frank’s not answering. It’s been four hours.”
“He’s taken a week getting back to us before.”
“But not now, not after Caitlin was taken.”
“You’re right. Guess we’re going to Indiana.”
“Who was that?”
“That… was Derek Morgan.”
“Yeah, what did he say? They found something?”
“No, they’re… they’re calling off the search for now. Some serial killer out
west going on a spree.”
“So they just gave up on Caitlin?!”
“They figured saving lives were more important; they don’t think her life is in
danger.”
...
“Dean, stop punching the car. You gotta calm down, man.”
“You calm down. I’ll calm down when I hear your obnoxious snoring again.”
***** Clock Ticking *****
Chapter Notes
     OOPS! I made a mistake in the last chapter. I forgot that the boys
     weren't driving the Impala because they're being sneaky. I've edited
     the dialogue so it no longer refers to Baby.
Caitlin flexed her fingers and toes, breathing deeply through the stinging,
burning pain after being immobilized for so long. Saul left her alone, the door
locked behind him. ‘Idiot.’ When he came back, she’d be strong enough to fight
him. Even if all that would get her was a shock, at least she’d be halfway
unconscious through whatever followed.
She left the blanket where it was and warmed herself through physical activity.
She was still hungry, still thirsty but she had enough strength to perform the
calming katas she had practiced every day for years. Another need was becoming
pressing, though. She knocked at the door.
“Hey! I need to use the bathroom.” She knocked again and added, cringing
inside, “please!”
There were footsteps outside and the key turned in the lock. Outside stood
Brad, glancing furtively to either side before beckoning her to follow.
“Bathroom’s this way,” he said quietly and turned his back at her. Somehow
Caitlin couldn’t bring herself to take him down. ‘After my eyes stop watering.’
She nodded her thanks as he held the bathroom door open for her and stayed
outside.
While taking care of business she scanned the room for anything useful.
Something heavy, something sharp, something pointy and small to pick locks. The
room was bare. No mirror, no shelves or cabinets, not even a toilet roll holder
to take apart. She tore at the bolts holding the toilet seat to no avail. Then
there were footsteps outside and the door banged open, revealing Saul.
“You’re done. Get back to your room.” He gave his youngest son a scathing look
before grabbing Caitlin’s right wrist in an iron grip and dragging her with
him.
Unthinkingly, Caitlin grabbed the doorway with her other hand and twisted her
wrist free of Saul’s grip. When he spun to grab her again, she punched his nose
hard enough to make him stagger backwards. She followed up with a kick to his
chest that landed him on his back, panting and wheezing. Brad was nowhere to be
seen so Caitlin dashed down the hallway, hopefully towards an exit. No one
stood in her way as she opened doors, ran through rooms and finally, finally,
was greeted by cool air. She ignored the stabs of pain in her feet as she ran
down a gravel driveway.
Mid step, all her muscles locked up. She toppled over to lie twitching in the
grass. Every single nerve inside her body screamed out in agony. She couldn’t
even draw in air enough to scream. Darkness overtook her.
She woke up to Cody tying her legs together, her hands already bound.
"Oh Sarah. you didn't think we would be that careless, did you?"
Caitlin only managed an agonized moan as he lifted her over his shoulder and
carried her back inside. She was dumped in the small room and left alone,
locked in and bound tightly, her entire body aching after being shocked.
Last year at the hospital, she had treated a middle aged man from Chechnya, had
watched the MRIs of his heart. Had seen the scarring on the blood-pumping
muscle, still affecting its functions a decade after the man was tortured with
repeated electroshocks.
“How are you, Mr. Zakaev?” She had asked the routine question barely looking up
from the fascinating record in her hand.
“I’m okay, thank you. It’s just that it’s getting worse in the morning.” He
spoke softly, his accent mostly consisting of a hypnotic rolling of the Rs.
“I’m sorry, what is?”
“The fluid in my lungs. I… I worry about drowning.” The small man’s eyes were
wide, as his voice broke and trailed off.
A couple of months later, Caitlin, her fellow students and several doctors had
sat in when an autopsy was performed on Mr. Zakaev. His heart and lungs had
been removed from his body and she had run a gloved finger over the damaged
tissue that had caused his untimely death.*
                                     XOXOX
“Sam? Sammy? You with me?”
“Sorry. Yeah. I’m here.”
“What’s going on with you, man?”
“Nothing, I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Why don’t you sleep then?”
“I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, Lucifer makes a racket.”
“You do know that he’s not really here, right?”
“Yeah, tell that to the volume control inside my head.”
                                     XOXOX
“So, Sweetheart,” Saul drawled as he entered the small room, carrying a metal
bucket. “How did that work out for you?” Caitlin glanced up at him and fought a
smirk at the sight of his red and swollen nose and the darkening bruises under
his eyes. ‘Zakaev,’ she chanted silently and kept her face impassive.
“So now you’re giving me the silent treatment?” Saul put the bucket in a corner
and bent down to whisper his next words in her ear, his figure looming over
her, shrinking her until she was ten years old again. “You’re mine.” His lips
curved upwards in a wicked grin, as he stood back up. “Aren’t you going to
curse and yell at me again? You gonna hit me some more? Think you can take me?”
“Please,” Caitlin said, voice scratchy and broken. “Do you really think this is
what Mom, what Lillian would have wante…” She gasped as Saul’s boot connected
with her side. ‘At least he didn’t crack any ribs.’
“Don’t talk about her. Never. She left, she died, she didn’t fight hard enough.
You both left!” Saul’s expression was crazed and spit flew from his lips as he
yelled.
Caitlin scrabbled for purchase on the concrete floor, just to get a few more
inches away from him. “You made me into her. You made me into a grown woman
when I was just a little girl. Of course I left when I had the chance!”
“Oh that’s rich. Like you weren’t a little cockslut anyway. Don’t tell me you
haven’t been turning tricks to get by all this time.”
“I was in med school! I was going to be a doctor! I was going to make sure that
no one else had to go through what I did!” She screamed the words at him,
desperate and angry. A stunned look appeared at his face and she continued
quietly: “What you went through.”
                                     XOXOX
“Frank? Frank? We’re coming in! … Oh crap! Sam, I think I’ve got Frank on my
boots.”
“Oh god. That’s a lot of blood. You think the leviathans…?”
“No, the tooth fairy, Sammy.”
“Hey, Dean, we should search the place. I mean they’re sure to have taken
everything Frank found out about them, but maybe…”
                                     XOXOX
Saul left the room after their argument. If it could be called an argument,
considering that one participant was tied up and could be rendered unconscious
at the push of a button. Caitlin closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. With
any luck, she might be able to sleep a little, despite how uncomfortable she
was.
She woke with a start that made her hands and ankles sting under the ropes. The
door had opened and closed almost noiselessly and there was no light. A figure
bent down over her, and she fought the urge to scream.
“Sssh,” she heard and then a pair of hands were undoing the knots keeping her
immobile.
“I’m sorry, Sarah. This isn’t right,” Brad murmured.
“Are you helping me leave?” It came out like a challenge, though she spoke the
words softly in the darkness.
His hands stilled for a moment. “I can’t,” he whispered.
“Brad, please…”
“I can’t. I don’t have the key to your collar and I can’t disarm the perimeter
signal. And I can’t…” He trailed off into a soft sob. The last knot was undone
and he sat down against the wall farthest from Caitlin.
This timid young man was nothing like the teenager that had taken her with
force almost every day for years. Back then, Cody had always been there too,
but his absence alone didn’t explain the change in Brad. She heard his breath
hitching as he cried silently.
“Brad,” she finally said. “We could both go. Steal a car, drive past the
perimeter… It’ll hurt but I’ll wake up again.”
“No.” He stood up quickly and left before she could ask him why.
Caitlin sighed and resigned herself to the humiliation of using the bucket
instead of being escorted to the bathroom.
                                     XOXOX
Dean woke up, woozy after sleeping too long, soldiering through nightmare upon
nightmare without waking. One second he was sleepily rubbing his eyes, the next
he was standing, the gun from under his pillow ready in his hands. It wasn’t a
foreign noise that had his heart hammering in his chest. It was the lack of a
distinct set of well known noises. Sam wasn’t there.
Dean’s phone blared out the familiar riff of Smoke On The Water. Exhaling
slowly, ready to rip Sam a new one, he answered without looking at the screen.
“Hey Jerkface, where are you?”
“Is this Dean Smith?” The unknown voice sounded confused and unsure. And just
like that Dean’s heart was back on overtime, his lungs too empty for him to
make a sound. “Hello?”
Dean held onto the back of a chair with his free hand, his knuckles white and
upper body hunched over. “Yeah.”
“I’m calling from Indiana State Hospital. Your brother has been in an
accident.”
Sam had been there with him when he fell asleep. Frank didn’t just have a lead
on Caitlin, he had a fucking address; and, miracle of miracles, the bigmouths
hadn’t touched it. The plan had been four hours of sleep for Dean and then
they’d be going to Lake Jones, North Carolina. Now it was six hours later, and
Sam was gone, was in the hospital.
“Sir, sir you can’t go in there!”
Dean’s hand twitched with the urge to shove the nurse away as he simply kept
walking right through her space.
“You need to schedule an appointment!”
“Then schedule one,” he told her, not taking his eyes of the white coated
doctor behind the desk. “Why can’t I see my brother?”
Somewhere, hopefully in a cabin near Jones Lake, the strongest, bravest,
kindest person alive - maybe next to his little brother - was living through
her worst nightmare. Right in front of him was Sam, clad in white hospital
clothes. His eyes were circled with darkness making him look hollow and his
voice was weary, weak. Dean had to listen to that worn voice, explaining that
Sam was dying from something so stupidly simple as sleep deprivation. His
little brother was dying.
“How long, Sam?”
“Three, four days at most.” Sam’s expression barely changed; harried and tired
became harried, tired and apologetic.
Dean’s eyes stung; his throat full of things he wanted to say but couldn’t find
words to express.
“I’ll find something. You’ll be fine,” was what he eventually got out.
“Dean… don’t. There’s nothing. We both know that.” Sam looked at him with those
earnest kaleidoscopic eyes, pleading him. “Find Caitlin. This…” Sam gestured
around the room, his hands shaking a little as he pointed towards Lucifer
eating popcorn, “this is nothing compared to what she must be going through.
And this time… this time I’ll be going upstairs, right? You know we’ll see each
other again someday.”
Dean couldn’t hold back his tears at that. Sam followed suit, finally letting
go of the calm that had surrounded him the whole time. They hugged tightly and
sniffled against each other’s cheeks.
“You better be waiting with beer and pie, Sammy.” Dean reluctantly pulled away.
“And I know there’s gotta be Zeppelin for me, better not mess with that, got
it?” Though his voice was shaky, he managed to sound the way he used to before
leaving with Dad for a hunt. It made Sam laugh surprisingly loud.
“I got it. But don’t come too soon. Take care, Dean. Say hi to Caitie for me.”
“Aight,” Dean whispered, before squeezing Sam’s hand and leaving the room. The
second Sam couldn’t see him anymore, he let the tears fall freely again.
***** Impossible Race *****
Dean drove through the night, willing his foot to press the accelerator harder
every time his death grip on the wheel faltered. Behind him, Sam was alone.
Dean was alone in a stupid Ford T and they were running out of time. What was
he doing driving away from Sam? What was Sam doing in the hospital? They
wouldn’t be able to help him anyway. Dying or not, Sammy should be sitting next
to him, part of this rescue mission. Then that stupid voice echoed in his head
again, tinny and far away, laced with fake sympathy. ‘Your brother has been in
an accident.’ Fuck. Fuck it all to hell.
                                     XOXOX
The door swung open so quickly it banged against the wall. Caitlin woke with a
small scream and fought to squeeze some air back into her lungs. Everything
hurt after long hours on the concrete floor and her muscles were still sore
after the current running through her body and being tied up the day before.
Cody entered with a sneer. “Rise and shine, Sarah.” He paused to snicker.
“Sorry, forgot, you’re not going anywhere, right, Sweetheart?”
Ignoring her body’s internal scream of protest, Caitlin rolled to her feet
quickly. Cody took a step backwards and raised the remote for the collar in
front of him.
‘Zakaev.’ Caitlin hurriedly backed up a few steps and hid her satisfaction at
his wide-eyed look of surprise and apprehension. Cody took his eyes off her
long enough to register the untied ropes on the floor. “How did you get out of
those?”
Caitlin didn’t answer until he took a threatening step towards her, fondling
the remote.
“My left thumb dislocates easily. Old injury from martial arts practice.”
Cody narrowed his eyes and looked unconvinced.
Caitlin shrugged. “If it’s any consolation it hurt like a bitch.”
But he shook his head. “A dislocated thumb wouldn’t have gotten you out, not
the way you were tied.” He took another step towards her and Caitlin shrank
back before catching herself and straightening up.
“Maybe you didn’t tie the knots as well as you thought. I got out, I slept. Now
what are we gonna do for fun today?” She gave him an expectant look,
suppressing a shudder.
“I’m thinking we should use that mouth of yours for something better than
giving lip,” he said with a mocking grin.
He gripped her hair and ripped her head downwards, crashing her to her knees
hard. Caitlin swallowed and tensed up, ready for the inevitable intrusion and
foul taste. Instead of unzipping his pants, Cody gripped the nearest rope,
muttering angrily while he jerkily gathered her hands behind her back and laced
them together tightly.
“No one fucking gets out of my ropes, bitch. I’m gonna prove it, I know you
didn’t get out on your own. No, it was Dad, he took you tonight, he fucking
two-timed me to have you to himself.” Cody tied off the knots at her wrists,
pulling hard and Caitlin whimpered. Her fingers were already starting to
prickle. He looped another rope around her neck, tying it in front of her,
separating the cords and twining them around her body.
Suddenly he yelled, face dark with anger: “Why are you covering for him,
Sarah?” Cody lowered his voice again in a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s not
good enough for you. He can’t take you the way I can.” Cody snuck a quick
glance towards the closed door. “I’ll make you mine, Sarah. You’ll have to take
whatever I give you and I’ll make you love it. Fucking love my cock. Love me.”
He kept working with the ropes until she could barely wiggle her toes, before
turning her to lie on her back. Her hands and fingers throbbed and she found it
hard to breathe with the way her hands made her back arch. Then he really did
unzip his pants and Caitlin’s breathing sped up. No way she was getting out of
this one. No way.
Something surprisingly cold touched her mouth.
“Open up, Sweetheart. Gonna make sure you don’t bite. Gonna make you take
everything, be so good for me.” He squeezed her nose and waited for her to open
her mouth for air. Caitlin held back until her body overrode her mind’s command
and her mouth opened on its own accord. A piece of metal entered her mouth and
pushed her jaws wide open.
After buckling the ring gag behind her head, Cody straddled her chest. One hand
held his dick, the other was buried in her hair, holding her head still.
Caitlin made inarticulate distressed noises as she fought to turn her head.
Cody gripped her hair even tighter and lifted her head only to slam it back
into the floor. Pain bloomed outward and the world went foggy, her body
unresponsive.
                                     XOXOX
Dean parked about a mile from the address they found at Frank’s. Selecting
weapons, he wavered between a second gun or his machete. ‘They’re not
vampires.’ They’d have guns with them. In a firefight a second gun, more ammo,
would be better. ‘They’re still monsters.’ His hand gripped the machete and an
extra clip for his Colt.
His pace was a compromise between speed and silence, until the cabin came into
view. Angling his advance so he wasn’t visible from any windows, he tread more
carefully. Glancing through a window, he couldn’t see any people; but there
were sounds. Sounds of a scuffle, of distressed, muffled screams.
The door was locked but not very solid. It took two kicks to bring it down and
then Dean was crossing the empty room, gun ready. He moved swiftly to the only
other door, not even bothering with the handle before kicking it down. Of
course they had heard him kick down the first door. Two men had guns pointed at
him, while a third man was fumbling for his weapon, softening dick still
hanging out. On the floor was Caitlin, gasping for air, naked, bound and
gagged.
                                     XOXOX
Sam lay strapped to the bed, enduring another onslaught of noisy
hallucinations. Who would have thought they’d make such a fuss over a little
impromptu indoor fire? At least that girl, Marin, was safe from her brother’s
ghost. Hopefully she’d be walking out of here soon. One last salt and burn, one
last person saved. He sighed and waited for the inevitable. Two more days,
three tops, and he would finally be at peace.
“Yeah,” Lucifer grinned in answer to his unspoken thoughts. “You and Dean
both.”
Sam closed his eyes wearily. Since Dean had left, Lucifer had insisted he would
be dead before Sam.
“It’s not like you’ve got any reason to say that, you’re just messing with me,”
he told the broken part of his soul.
Lucifer grinned even wider, like a Cheshire cat and then some.
“Oh Sam, Sam, Sam,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “I thought you were
supposed to be the smart one. Did it really never occur to you that the address
in Frank’s van was a Leviathan trap?”
Sam’s heart skipped a beat and his muscles stiffened. It took him several
seconds to get his lungs to work. He drew in a deep breath.
“Hey? Hey? Anyone? I need to make a phone call please! Help!”
                                     XOXOX
Dean shot the oldest, largest man in the head, and moved on to the second, the
youngest, in a millisecond, pulling the trigger again with no hesitation. The
bullet went straight through and blood spattered the wall behind the kid as he
dropped like a rock. Dean looked at the third, frozen with his gun halfway
raised. Then he pulled the trigger for a third and a fourth time, the first
bullet hitting the young man’s crotch, the second his head.
Dean dropped to the floor and crawled over to Caitlin, keeping up a constant
stream of reassurance, careful to move slowly.
“I’m here, nothing else is gonna happen to you, gonna take care of you, gonna
get you out of here, sssssch.” He unbuckled the gag and Caitlin looked at him
gratefully, closing her mouth with a sigh. The knots were tight and the rope
thick so Dean cut them with the machete.
When she was finally free, he dropped the blade and threw his arms open for a
hug. She smiled. Her smile grew wider and wider until it was impossibly wide.
Dean scrambled to retrieve his blade. Around him, the supposedly dead bodies
began to stir.
                                     XOXOX
The door banged open for a second time and the weight on Caitlin’s chest
lifted. The strange gray fog covering everything dissipated and she could hear
voices over the ringing in her ears.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Saul snarled. He had Cody by the
neck, practically dangling him over the floor. Then Cody gathered his wits and
batted at his father’s arms until his feet found purchase.
“You couldn’t keep it in the pants tonight, why should I wait any longer?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but Cody, son, we talked about
this.” Saul motioned to Caitlin’s immobilized form. “You can’t… you can’t do
that to Sarah.”
“Fuck you, Dad!” Cody hit the door frame hard on his way out.
Saul removed the ring gag from Caitlin’s mouth and stroked her tear streaked
cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. He shouldn’t have done that.” He continued to loosen
the ropes and Caitlin breathed deeply through the painful sensation of blood
returning to her hands and feet.
“Why do you care so much?”
Saul frowned in annoyance. “Using someone who can’t defend themselves, that’s
just wrong.” He spoke as if stating a simple fact of life, which of course, in
a way he was. Caitlin let out a disbelieving laugh.
“And telling a ten-year old to suck your dick or she won’t get any food is
different how, exactly?”
***** Breaking Point *****
Saul’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, before he stood up and left
the room. It took a few moments for Caitlin to register that the click of the
door locking behind him never came. All she had to do was get up and… somehow
not get zapped again. She got on her feet shakily and reached for the doorknob
when someone turned it from the other side. Brad gave her a wide eyed stare and
held out a tray of food towards her. Somewhere behind him, there was a shouting
match going on.
Brad visibly flinched at every angry outburst. She took the tray from him and
caught herself smiling reassuringly.
“Thank you, I was getting really hungry.” She stepped back to the far wall and
sat down.
Brad’s eyes regained their focus and he licked his lips, staring at the food.
“You wanna share?” Caitlin smiled invitingly at the young man who, thirteen
years ago, had gripped her hair and fucked her throat for the first time. She
searched his eyes for any trace of who he had been then and couldn’t find any.
He took a backwards step, shaking his head.
“No thanks.” Brad picked up the bucket and left her alone. Unlike Saul, he
remembered to lock the door behind him.
                                     XOXOX
Dean never got to the machete before the Leviathan was on him. It held him
down, ignoring his attempts to struggle free.
"Where's the real Caitlin?"
"Who cares," the monster replied, shrinking back into Caitlin’s likeness. "The
real question is, where is your brother?"
Dean winced. The Leviathan continued: "Until now, the two of you have been like
a matched pair, always close. So I'm guessing he's around, just waiting for the
right moment to save the day. This time, we won't let that happen."
Dean laughed shakily. How ironic is this? "Tell me where Caitlin is and I'll
tell you about Sam."
“Never mind,” the Leviathan Dean first shot commented from his place by the far
wall. “We’ll find him. Just kill that one already.”
Dean fought to move his arms, his legs, anything, but there was no give. He let
his eyes flash to the empty doorway and said in an exasperated tone: “Any
second, Sammy.”
The monster looked up. Dean bucked and writhed until his legs could move. His
knee hit the Leviathan’s back hard. His right hand came free and he punched it
rapidly three times in the face. Caitie’s face, those fucking bastards. He
bucked up again and successfully dislodged the creature, reached for the
machete… but it was still too far away. He pushed himself towards it, feeling
hands gripping his clothes, too late, it was too late.
For no apparent reason, the machete slithered across the floor and into his
open hand. Like a freakin’ light saber. No time for second guessing, Dean swung
it as he turned around, severing the Leviathan’s head neatly. A shot rang out.
Dean felt a sharp pain pierce through his left shoulder below the collarbone.
Right. Guns. Three more Leviathans, three guns and no Sam. He rolled his
shoulder gingerly, assessing the wound. Small caliber, hopefully it went right
through. It hurt like a bitch but he could still move.
All three monsters had him at gunpoint. Dean closed his eyes, silently
apologizing to Caitlin for failing her, to Sammy for leaving him to die alone.
A gun went off. There was no pain, but it was so so cold.
                                     XOXOX
Sam’s hands twitched in their restraints. It wouldn’t make a difference to put
them over his ears, but he wanted to. Lucifer had begun his next recital of
Bohemian Rhapsody, shouting rather than singing. He changed the meaning
slightly every time, which made it more difficult to ignore. Mamma had been
pappa, uncle and brother. The murdered man had been a monster, a friend, a
niece (nice one, Luci) and a brother (you’re not subtle at all.) He had been
killed by gun, knife, strangulation, defenestration, and was now once again
being shot. With sound effects, this time. Sam startled at every loud noise.
“Cas! Cas! Please!” Sam startled again, had he shouted that?
“Sam, Sammy. Getting delirious already? Cassie’s dead, remember? Leviathans
killed him. Killed good ol’ Bobby. By now they’re sure to have killed Dean too.
You should have been there with him. You should have warned him it was a trap.
Your brother’s dead because of you Sam. You’re pathetic.” Lucifer shook his
head in mock disgust. He then launched into a strangely disharmonious
adaptation of Don’t Fear the Reaper.
“Castiel. Please.” The words echoed in the small room, drowned out Lucifer’s
sinister song, and granted Sam nearly one entire minute of peace. When the echo
died down he repeated the prayer, but this time the words didn’t linger.
In another state, a man of faith fought for his life. It might not have been a
very long life, since he only remembered 6 months of it, but he fought for it
nonetheless. His eyes, blue as the heaven he didn’t remember, flashed to the
woman who had found him naked and stumbling without so much as a name on that
first day. The woman who had given him everything lay on the floor, her blood
oozing slowly from her broken body.
“Castiel. Please.”
Vivid images [memories] jack hammered into his skull. They were disconnected,
fragments, but in them, he saw what he could do. He called up the power of God
inside of him and touched the monster [demon] that had killed Daphne and was
trying to kill him. Bright light and screaming happened. He was left with the
murderer’s body, eyes burned out of their sockets and more memories. All of the
broken fragments coming together.
Castiel staggered and fell to his knees, eyes squeezed shut when the enormity
of his past hit him. If he could undo the puzzle and sink back into oblivion,
he would. The things he had done. Inexcusable, unforgivable, callous,
catastrophic things. How could he still be alive?
“Castiel, I can’t, I can’t... please, let me die.”
Castiel opened his eyes. “Sam.”
Castiel, once an angel of the Lord, who turned against his brethren for the
sake of humanity, spread his ethereal wings and arrived in Sam Winchester’s
hospital room a heartbeat later. Sam was alone at the moment but there were
footsteps in the hallway. Castiel wasn’t up for the intricacies of human
bureaucracy, so he put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, and flapped his wings once
more.
                                     XOXOX
Confused, Dean opened his eyes and looked behind him. There was a bullet hole
in the wooden wall several feet to his left. The three Leviathans looked
equally perplexed, guns still aimed at Dean. The chill settled in his bones,
familiar in its persistency. Ghost.
The Leviathan who had been calling the shots so far, recovered with a pinched
smile. Its eyes narrowed. Its finger tightened around the trigger. It yelled,
startled. The gun flew from its hand, landing somewhere behind Dean. He dropped
to the floor, two bullets flying over his head. He gripped the machete tightly
and launched himself towards the now unarmed Leviathan.
Another surprised yell, another clunk of a gun hitting the floor. Somewhere to
the other side, one more Leviathan had lost its weapon. Dean roared with anger
as he took the head off the monster in front of him and spun around. Machete
raised, he headed straight towards the last gun barrel still pointed at him.
It was reckless, going against a lifetime of training. Dean moved on instinct,
trusting the mysterious gun throwing Casper to have his back. He was only
slightly disappointed. The gun went off, bullet grazing his left bicep. Dean
swung the machete and momentarily had to close his eyes to avoid the spray of
black goo. He was stalking his last victim before the separated head hit the
floor.
As soon as all the Leviathan lay still and headless, the room warmed again.
Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He hurt a lot, the shoulder wound still
bleeding freely. A salt and burn on top of everything would have been
torturous.
Ripping up the shirt of the biggest guy, he tied a wad of fabric as tight
against the wound as he could. He could feel the blood slowly oozing through it
but it was the best he could do for now. He picked up the four heads, dangling
them by their hair.
“I hope this hurts, you fucking prehistoric lizard morons.”
He carried the heads all the way back to the car. The gash on his arm stung and
burned. The wound in his shoulder kept bleeding through the cloth, shooting
pain everywhere with every step he took. Dean threw the heads into the shade
under the trees and opened the trunk. He tossed the machete in there and
rummaged around until he got the shovel. He found a spot hidden from the road
with soft dirt and dug a shallow pit. He was out of breath, dizzy and fighting
off nausea before the Leviathan heads were hidden.
He got back to the car, tossed the shovel back in the trunk, shrugged off his
jacket and used the side mirror to look for an exit wound in his shoulder.
There wasn’t one. He’d have to dig deep for a goddamned bullet before closing
up properly and he was already in pretty bad shape. The emergency kit held most
of what he’d need but he was low on alcohol. There wasn’t enough to flush the
wound before stitching it. He didn’t exactly have time for an infection.
Frustrated he settled for changing the wad and gasping through the pain when
retying it to put more pressure on the injury.
He got into the driver’s seat, and took a look at himself in the rearview
mirror. He was pale, dark smudges under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t
slept in weeks. Oh, Sammy. He opened the glove compartment for his phone,
intent on finding somewhere close where he could patch himself up properly.
8 missed calls. Heart hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat, Dean
hit redial.
“Indiana State Hospital, how may I help you?”
“Um, hey, this is Dean Smith. I think maybe my brother has tried to call me?
He’s up at the psychiatric ward. Sam Smith.”
“Please hold.”
Electronic music the equivalent to Chinese water torture had him gnashing his
teeth within seconds. By the time it stopped, he felt close to an aneurysm.
“Dean Smith?”
“Yeah?”
“This is Dr. Kadinsky. We’ve been trying to reach you.”
“What’s up, Doc?” Dean covered his eyes with his palm. Of all the dumbest
things to say...
“We initially called you to ask for permission to experiment with electroshock
therapy on your brother. However that is no longer relevant. I must inform you
that your brother is gone, Mr. Smith.”
Sam, six months old, wrapped in a blanket, big baby blue eyes staring
wonderingly up at Dean in the flickering light of the flames that ate their
mother.
Sam, taking his first steps towards Dean, reaching out his arms, happily
yelling “Dee, Dee.”
Sam, first day at school, nervous and shy at first, but so proud when he came
home. “I knew all the answers, Dean. But I learned lots too.”
“Mr. Smith? Are you there? We need you to come back and sign some papers.”
Sam, nine years old, down with the flu, lucid at last after calling desperately
for Dean during his fever dreams. “You take such good care of me, Dee. You’re
the best big brother in the whole world.”
Sam, sixteen years old, dressed in slacks and a purple button-down, borrowing
the Impala for his first real date. “Shut up, Jerk. There won’t be a scratch on
her and I’m not gonna fuck Alysha in the back seat.”
Sam, eighteen years old, slamming the door in dad’s face, leaving them, leaving
Dean, to go to college. His eyes meeting Dean’s seconds before disappearing
from view. “I’ll call.”
“Hello? Mr. Smith? Are you listening?”
Sam next to Dean’s bed at the hospital after he electrocuted himself by
accident. “I won’t let you die. I’m gonna save you.”
Sam in Cold Oak, face down in the mud, knife through his spine. Sam’s breathing
hitching and then stopping completely.
Dean never regretted selling his soul for his brother’s life back then. He
didn’t regret it when Sam was crying, helpless, while hellhounds tore Dean
apart. Not even when they told him he had kickstarted the freaking apocalypse
with his actions, did he regret anything. Sam’s life was worth every single day
of the four months, the actual forty years Dean spent in hell. If Cas hadn’t
pulled him out, if Dean had had to spend the rest of eternity down there,
blackeyed and burning with hate, it would have been worth it.
That was the kicker, wasn’t it? Because a couple of years later, it had been
Sam who chose to sacrifice himself. Not just for Dean but for the whole world.
Jumping into the deepest corner of hell with archangels Lucifer and Michael for
company. Sam hadn’t expected an out when he did that. He hadn’t expected his
body to be pulled out and his soul left behind to suffer for who knows how many
centuries of hell time, before Dean found a way to rescue him.
When Lucifer invaded Sam’s mind and poisoned his thoughts and it got so bad,
Dean had to stop him from killing himself… did he regret his choice? And now,
eight months later, this last, final week, when all the coping strategies Sam
had mastered suddenly failed; had Sam regretted his choice? Sam had been calm
and acceptant of everything when Dean saw him at the hospital. No, Sam didn’t
regret a thing.
But Dean did. He should have been there. He should have stayed by his brother’s
side and seen this through. He should have looked for something, anything to
stop Sam from dying. He should have saved his little brother.
The phone fell from his numb fingers and he didn’t bother to pick it back up.
He clutched the wheel with both hands, unbothered by the way the blood flow
from his shoulder increased when his arm tensed up.
***** Black Out *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry this chapter is a little short. I didn't want to post a
     horrible cliffhanger.
Castiel brought Sam to the undisturbed master bedroom of the house where he had
lived in sweet oblivion for the past six months. Sam showed no sign that he had
registered the change of location.
Castiel touched his forehead and concentrated. It was a mess; the barrier built
to protect Sam from his time in hell was no longer leaking poison into his
mind. It had crumbled so completely that there was nothing left to rebuild.
Castiel could not undo his heinous crime.
Sam lay on the bed, eyes open and unseeing, mouth moving as if speaking.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m sorry.” Castiel knelt next to the young man he had once
been proud to call his friend.
Something tickled his cheek; Castiel hesitantly touched the place. Wet. If only
tears of an angel were actually a powerful source of healing. Despite all the
people he had healed in these last few months of blissful ignorance, Castiel
was completely useless when it counted.
“I’ll think of something,” he whispered to Sam.
Sam didn’t blink, his silent words didn’t slow.
                                     XOXOX
Caitlin ate her breakfast. The cutlery wasn't useful for opening the door.
After an hour of trying to bend the fork in a shape that would allow her to
pick the lock, she gave up. She dozed off until the door opened again. Brad
brought her a lunch tray with a sandwich and picked up the empty one.
"Thank you, Brad."
Brad said nothing. He left her only to come back again with the bucket,
smelling of Ajax. The door closed behind him and the lock clicked. Caitlin
sighed deeply and pushed the food away.
Was anyone looking for her? If Dean and Sam were alive, surely they were? They
must be looking for her. But the case in Coeur d'Alene had sounded bad. Real
bad. No, they were okay. They just hadn't been able to find her. Yet.
Caitlin had been on her own most of her life, used to no one caring whether she
lived or died beyond who would make dinner if she wasn’t there. Despite Dean’s
initial reaction to her insistence on learning about monsters (as if I didn’t
know plenty to begin with) travelling with him and Sam had been nice.
Occasionally extremely stressful but most of the time, it had been Sam’s soft
spoken company and Dean’s easy camaraderie.
It had been nights with Dean’s heartbeat in her ears, his arm slung casually
around her shoulders. It had been laughter, tears, near death experiences that
somehow weren’t so bad when she knew that the outcome mattered. She had friends
who would be sad if she didn’t make it.
She remembered the night after the Amazon attack, after Emma, and let her
fingertips trace her lips. Perhaps Dean wasn’t just a friend. The Djinn hadn’t
seemed to think so. But what they’d been, what they’d had together in that
poison induced dreamworld wasn’t something that could ever exist in reality.
And it wasn’t, she was surprised to realize, what she really wanted anyway.
I'm gonna get out of here. And when I do, I won't let these assholes control my
body anymore. She crossed her heart and swore it to herself.
She spent time picturing doing the things that had been forced upon her once,
with Dean. Imagined what he would look like, what he would sound like while
fucking into her. What his lips would feel like on her skin. Her heart pounded
and she broke out a sweat. An itch, hot and unreachable grew inside of her.
Dean would know how to scratch it. Dean would hold her and keep her safe. Dean.
Are you still out there? Caitlin cried herself to sleep.
She woke up hungry and ate the now dry sandwich. After, she exercised until she
was a sweaty, panting mess. Then she sat down and recited prime numbers,
chemical compounds in medicine, anything she could do, not to think about
anything at all.
                                     XOXOX
The wheel was too thick in Dean’s hands. The dashboard looked wrong through his
blurred vision. He reached behind him and caught the sleeve of his jacket and
pulled it to him. He took Bobby’s old flask out and helped himself to a taste
of Jim B. Probably not the best kind of fluid to replace the blood he’d lost
with, but he felt sufficiently justified. Too bad the bottle was almost empty.
He tossed the flask on the passenger seat and fumbled to turn the key. It took
him a full minute to find it; he kept running his fingers across the dash until
he remembered the ignition in this car was situated on the steering column. The
engine coughed to life and Dean closed his eyes. Had he been driving his baby,
he would have been home all the way to wherever he was going.
Dean put the car in drive and let it drift down the road. The numbers on the
speedometer blurred, the lines of the road writhed in front of him. Night fell
over him.
He opened his eyes to mid day light shivering with cold. His shoulder throbbed
painfully. Cold, wet and sticky. Still bleeding then. Dean groaned and without
looking, he stretched his right arm for the flask in the passenger seat. Sharp,
stabbing pain wrenched through his left shoulder when his weight shifted. The
world was upside down. Dean blinked and shook his head to clear away the spots
and confusion.
The car was upside down in a ditch. The pain in his shoulder grew by the
second, protesting gravity’s pull against the seat belt and kept him focused.
He fumbled with the buckle and landed in a boneless heap when it snapped open.
He forced deep breaths into his lungs; until he stopped the bleeding in his
shoulder, he needed to stay awake.
In the end, he kicked the windshield a couple of times, and crawled out through
the opening when it gave way. He felt drops of clammy sweat run down his neck
and he was panting from the exertion as if he had just gone with Sam on one of
his crazy morning runs. The car was resting on the roof and the rear end,
effectively barring Dean from the trunk and the first aid kit.
He tore up his shirt to change the padding for his soaked bandage. Stumbling
down the road, each step a struggle, he cursed Caitlin and her psychotic,
incestuous, misogynistic family. If not for them, he could have stayed in the
goddamned car until a reaper came for him. If not for them, he could have been
with Sam, hell, maybe he could have saved Sam.
He plodded on, determined to put one foot in front of the other, to not pass
out. He mumbled barely intelligible words preparing a thorough brotherly rebuke
for Sam. Dean would visit him at Stanford when this was over and chew his
little brother out for skipping on him. Yeah, and then Dean and Caitlin could
go on a double date with Sam and that hottie of his, Jessica. That would be
awesome. All he had to do was find Caitlin and they could drive out west. Stop
somewhere remote and watch a sunset together, maybe fool around some.
                                     XOXOX
Castiel weighed his options. He could theoretically erase Sam’s memories of the
time after the wall in his mind was destroyed. There was no guarantee that
would work, though. If he could, he would erase all Sam’s memories of hell, but
they spanned over centuries. Sam’s soul was in tatters because of his torment
and removing what happened from his mind, would destroy the very essence of
Sam.
Saving Sam came down to making a sacrifice. In the end, it wasn’t a hard
choice. Castiel projected his thoughts on the matter on a piece of paper, meant
for Sam to read. It was highly unlikely that Castiel would be able to explain
anything, when he was done. He closed his eyes and reached out to Sam. Reached
into him. Castiel filtered through Sam’s memories and took away the pain and
shame from every second of torture. He took it on himself.
Sam slept. Castiel eyed him warily, not sure who or what he was seeing. Half
panicked, he left the room, clutching a piece of paper that no longer held any
meaning in his fist. Downstairs, he crossed the living room floor without a
downwards glance, his shoes making large footprints in the now cold blood. He
went to the kitchen, opened the fridge and got himself a glass of cool milk.
With no conscious effort, he turned on the TV with a flick of his power, and
sat down in the couch to watch M*A*S*H.
***** Bloody Time *****
When the grass at the side of the road turned into gravel, his feet stopped of
their own accord. Slowly, Dean lifted his eyes from the ground. It was a long
driveway leading up to a bungalow. There was a car out front, so someone was
probably home. He’d borrow their bathroom, hopefully find a set of tweezers,
get the bullet out. Yeah, that’d be good.
His legs were shaking when he got them moving again, right, left, right, left.
He eyed the car, a red-brown dirty pile of rust with Arkansas plates. Dean read
the numbers on autopilot and stopped dead. "Son of a bitch."
It took him a few tries to get his Colt free of his waistband. He opened the
chamber, frowning. Two bullets left. The spare mag was in his jacket, back in
the car. 'Here goes nothing.' He turned the doorknob slowly; it wasn't locked.
                                     XOXOX
The door opened to reveal Saul looking thunderous. He must have spent the day
or so since their last conversation slowly getting angrier and angrier.
"We're done babying you, Sarah. Next time you use your mouth to talk, I'm
pushing the button." He held up the accursed remote for the collar around her
neck. Saul's fingers closed around her wrist and pulled her up to stand next to
him. "Come here."
It was the same bare bathroom she had visited before. This time a shower hose
had been connected to the faucet. Saul pushed her into a corner, where she
could feel a drain under her toes. Caitlin didn't take her eyes off Saul. He
turned on the water, adjusted the water pressure to the highest setting, and
let the ice cold water pummel her.
After a few minutes he turned it off and handed her a bar of soap. Caitlin
scrubbed herself thoroughly, until Saul wordlessly turned the water back on and
washed the suds off of her. He grabbed her hand again and pulled her with him.
She stumbled after him, teeth chattering from the cold water still clinging to
her body.
He dragged her to another part of the house; a sparingly furnished living room.
The walls were dark, the couch was ratty and the TV was an antique giant box.
All Caitlin saw was Cody on the couch, his fly open and stroking his dick. Cody
was leering at her in a way that had her instinctively hugging herself. She bit
the inside of her cheek to keep from begging them to leave her alone.
“Go on,” Saul said, voice gruff, pushing her towards Cody. “Show him why tying
you up is a waste of potential. Or I’ll let him do it next time.” She turned to
him, searched his face for any sign of mercy, and found him closed off and
determined. Trembling, she faced Cody again. He made a ‘come here’ gesture, his
mouth curled in an impatient sneer. Someone must have spilled superglue on the
floor, as she was unable lift her feet.
Saul snatched a handful of her hair and dragged her forward. Caitlin made a
pitiful keening noise, caught between obedient silence and the pain in her
scalp. Saul pushed her to her knees between Cody’s splayed legs and let her
hair go. Cody’s veined dick bobbed expectantly inches from her face. The smell
of cheap aftershave and Cody’s sweat hit her nostrils. Caitlin swallowed hard
several times, but bile kept rising in her throat. ‘I can’t.’ She closed her
eyes.
“I can’t!” Tears ran down her face.
Saul fisted his hand in her hair again, shaking her a little. “What did I tell
you about speaking?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t. Push the button. Kill me. Please.” Loud sobs
wracked through her body.
Cody reached forward to cup her chin. “Sarah, look at me.” When she didn’t
react, he slapped her cheek hard. “Look at me, killjoy.” He slapped her again,
harder.
Caitlin looked, still shaking and crying.
“We’re not gonna kill you. You’re ours and we’re gonna take care of you. And
that means you’re gonna take care of us.” Cody looked up at his father with a
meaningful expression.
Saul released her hair, only for Cody to tangle his hands in it and draw her
closer yet. “Take a deep breath, Sarah. I don’t want you passing out on me.”
                                     XOXOX
Dean staggered through an unlit hallway. His feet dragged, floorboards creaked.
He held his Colt in his right hand, arm hanging relaxed and the barrel pointing
downwards. It was going to cost him precious time when he needed it, but he
didn’t have the strength to hold it up.
Dean opened the first door on his right. The room was devoid of people but held
a queen, a desk and a laptop. The walls were decorated with posters of naked
women; bound and gagged in various degrading positions, depicted as crying and
begging. ‘Caitlin, oh fuck.’ A rack held several coils of rope and Dean reached
up his left hand for a bunch of them. His arm trembled with the strain and he
felt new beads of sweat form on his forehead. He exhaled loudly when he lowered
the arm again, ropes hanging from his loosely closed fist. Now to not stumble
in them.
The next room wasn’t empty. A slim guy with light blond hair lay on the bed,
eyes closed and a set of headphones on. Dean recognized him; after all he had
killed a Leviathan copy of him earlier that same day. Enough noise escaped the
headphone speakers that Dean didn’t bother with silence. The young man’s eyes
flew open when the barrel of the gun pressed against his forehead. Dean
gestured at the headphones and the guy took them off slowly, frightened grey
eyes never leaving the gun aimed at his head.
“Where’s Caitlin?”
“Caitlin?”
“The woman you kidnapped, asshole.”
“You’re here for Sarah?” The man’s expression gave Dean pause. Was that…
relief?
Dean nodded.
The guy slid to the edge of his bed without taking his hands down. “Follow me.”
They walked in silence, Dean biting back groans of pain and blinking back
droplets of sweat. He breathed hard from the strain of holding up the gun and
hiding his fatigue. Then he heard Caitlin’s distressed voice, too faint to make
out any words. Adrenaline rushed through his body, sending his heart rate
skyrocketing. A small trail of blood ran down his chest.
“Hurry.”
They ran to the next door, where the young man stopped, dead in his tracks.
“They’re in there,” he whispered.
                                     XOXOX
Caitlin barely had time to inhale before she was yanked forward. She shut her
mouth with a snap and Cody’s grip in her hair tightened further. There was the
sound of a door opening. Cody looked up to see Brad.
"Hey bro. Decided to join the party after all?" He looked incredibly smug.
Brad stood stock still. "Not as such." His shaky voice made Cody relax his grip
on Caitlin a fraction and narrow his eyes, just as Saul got up to walk towards
him. Brad took a stumbling step into the room, followed by a hand holding a
gun. Caitlin gasped when Dean appeared in the doorway.
He was shaking, face pale and drawn and his entire body held wire taut. His
clothes were a sticky crimson mess, blood everywhere. She wrenched herself free
of Cody and was halfway through her first step towards Dean, when Saul spoke.
“Put the gun down or I zap her.” He held out the remote for the collar for
emphasis. The gun shifted from Brad’s head to Saul’s crotch instantly.
The white in Dean’s eyes stood out and the slight tremors running through his
body increased.
“You have three seconds to drop that thing or you’ll be spending the rest of
your very short life as a eunuch.” The rage behind Dean’s words left no room
for doubt as to how seriously he meant the threat.
Saul swallowed and moved his thumb over the button.
“One.”
The remote landed on the floor, dropped as if on fire.
Caitlin ran to Dean, coming to a stop in front of him, her hands patting him
down to find the source of the blood. Up close, his lips were tinged with blue.
“Not yet,” he said. “Take this.”
She barely caught his gun before it fell from his hand. He remained standing
only on account of the doorway supporting his weight.
She spun, her grip and stance testimony to the hours she’d spent on the gun
range. She caught Saul in the act of bending down to retrieve the remote. She
fired a warning shot, the bullet digging into the floor inches from his right
foot. He stepped back quickly. Dean shifted the ropes to his right hand and
held them out to Caitlin.
“Brad.” Caitlin nodded at the ropes and Brad resignedly took them from Dean.
Without any further instruction, he went to tie Saul’s hands behind his back.
His father’s eyes screamed bloody murder at his youngest son, but Brad hardly
flinched. When Saul was bound, hands and feet, Brad turned to his brother and
didn’t move.
Cody still sat on the couch, his dick now tucked away. He sneered at his
brother, contempt in his voice. “Just get it over with, fucking brat.”
Brad sighed and went over to him with heavy steps. He mumbled words of apology
that only seemed to enrage Cody further.
“Shut up. You goddamned little weasel.” Cody launched himself from the couch,
ripping his right hand from Brad’s hesitant grip and clocked him. Brad
staggered backwards. Caitlin aimed the Colt at the wall behind Cody and pulled
the trigger. Plaster rained over Cody, Dean drew in a sharp breath next to her,
and she silently cursed. The slide and hammer stayed out; the Colt now
blatantly empty.
The three men turned towards her and Dean like a pack of wolves scenting
wounded prey. Behind her, Dean slid a few inches downwards before catching
himself.
He turned his eyes heavenwards. “Could we catch a goddamned break for a second
here?”
***** Burn Together *****
Saul dove backwards, his bound hands awkwardly searching for the remote.
Desperate, Caitlin threw the gun at him. Saul ducked out of the way and made a
triumphant noise. “Any last words for your dead boyfriend, Sarah?”
Dean and Caitlin spoke simultaneously, glaring at him.
“I’m not dead.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
Caitlin turned her glare to Dean. “Exactly what kind of rescue mission is
this?”
Dean made a weak attempt at his trademark smirk. “The ‘time for plan B’ kind.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve got an extra weapon hidden somewhere on you? Perhaps up
your ass, Winchester?” Her nostrils flared as she fingered the improvised
bandage over his shoulder with trembling hands.
“Sorry.” Dean closed his eyes and didn’t open them again for several seconds.
“Some rescue, mister.” There was fondness and fear in her voice.
Dean gave her another shaky smile. “Everyone’s a critic.”
Either Cody or Brad had freed Saul’s hands. Cody and Saul were watching their
exchange with dark expressions; Brad had picked up the empty gun and fiddled
with it quietly.
Caitlin stood as close to Dean as she could get without her naked body touching
him anywhere. Even smelling of blood, sweat and Leviathan goo, barely staying
conscious, having him close made her calm. In her professional opinion, he was
in hypovolemic shock, stage three, potentially fatal if he didn’t get to a
hospital soon. But he was there.
“So what’s plan B then, genius?”
“I guess it’s really plan F.” Dean shrugged minutely and flinched at the pain.
Caitlin raised one eyebrow questioningly.
“As in ‘we’re fucked,’” Dean clarified.
Pain hit Caitlin out of nowhere. Her eyes got impossibly big before her whole
body gave out under her. Dean let himself slide down to shake her by the
shoulder. Saul grinned, fingering the remote in his hand.
“She’ll be out for a little while. Long enough for us to remedy that ‘not dead’
thing, pretty boy.”
Dean snorted. “As if I wasn’t gonna kill you anyway but just for that, you shit
for brains, no good redneck, now I’m gonna make it hurt.”
Saul’s smile never wavered. “Big talk. You look a little pale there, punk.
Forgot to take your vitamins?”
Dean got his feet under him and let his right arm support his weight, but only
got up halfway before a wave of dizziness crashed over him.
Saul’s grin widened. “Boys! Gimme a hand.”
Dean struggled feebly when rough hands dragged him down the hall.
“Dad?” Brad stayed back a little. “Dad, stop for a second!”
“What?!”
“Maybe we shouldn’t kill him.”
“Brad, if you ain’t got the stomach for it, go to your room.” Saul threw his
customary look of disdain at his youngest son.
Brad sighed. “No, that’s not it. I don’t think Sarah’s gonna do what you tell
her to, even with the collar. But she probably won’t want her friend to die.”
Saul paused. He looked at Dean and then at Brad and broke into a lascivious
smile. “You want this asspussy for yourself, faggot?”
Cody laughed so suddenly he almost swallowed his own tongue and started
coughing.
Dean twisted harder against their grip, cursing up a storm.
Brad turned bright red; still, he didn’t look away from his father. “Fine, kill
him. Just don’t take it out on me when Sarah’s attitude gets even worse.” Brad
spun on his heel and walked back to where Caitlin lay motionless.
                                     XOXOX
Caitlin felt no better waking up this time than the last time the collar had
been set off. Hands were dragging her back into her tiny grey room. She bit
back a whimper when they let her go and her body fell a few inches to the
floor. Her muscles really didn’t like getting shocked.
She was left alone though the door stayed open. Moments later, Cody and Saul
dragged another limp form in next to her.
“Dean! Oh God.” It had only been fifteen minutes at most since the lights went
out on her, but the Mitchell men had been busy. Half his face was matted red
with the blood from a split eyebrow. More blood was dripping from his nose. The
bandage on his shoulder had been ripped off to reveal a bullet hole, bleeding
at an alarming rate with nothing to staunch the flow. They had stripped him of
his clothes and several bruises across his body were slowly spreading and
darkening.
Saul and Cody stood in the doorway, admiring their handiwork.
Where he wasn’t covered in blood, his freckles stood out starkly against his
pallid skin. His breath was coming in short gasps. At the sound of her voice,
he cracked open his eyes.
“Caitie,” he near whispered. “’m sorry I screwed up. Promise me… promise me
you’ll get out somehow.”
Caitlin took his hand. “We both will.” She kept her voice steady, wanted him to
believe her.
Dean shook his head slightly. “No. You gotta let me go. Don’t…” he took a
deeper breath and winced. “Don’t let them use me against you.” He squeezed her
hand feebly and his eyes begged her to listen. “I’d rather die.”
Saul smiled expectantly. “That can be arranged.” He turned to Caitlin. “See,
Sarah, this is how it’s gonna go. You either make me and the boys happy, or
that meddling cocksucker pays the price.”
“You know,” Dean said, wheezing a little, “When I carve out that wrinkled
little raisin that’s your heart…” He paused to swallow. “I’m gonna stuff it up
your gigantic asshole and bury you face down. I bet that’ll grow a tree of
special stupid.”
Saul’s eyes darkened with anger and he took a step towards Dean. Caitlin
interrupted. “I’m not doing anything if he dies, you know that, don’t you?” She
pushed herself into a sitting position next to Dean and stage-whispered: “Maybe
you should turn down the charm a little?” Dean grunted incoherently and closed
his eyes.
Caitlin turned back to Saul. “If you leave him in here now, he’ll be dead in
five to ten hours.”
Saul snorted. “The way he talks, I seriously doubt that.”
Caitlin pointed to Dean’s blue lips. “See that color? Did you stop to feel his
pulse when you beat the crap out of him? His heart is racing, beating twice as
fast as normal. But you wouldn’t have known that, because his blood pressure is
too low to feel a pulse anywhere but at his carotid. He’s got hypovolemia. See?
She pressed a finger into the flesh of Dean’s bicep. Her fingerprint stayed
visible for a long time. She lifted Dean’s right hand and pointed to his
fingertips. “His fingertips are blue and it’ll get worse. Even if I stop the
bleeding now, with no further treatment, he’ll still be in risk of losing
fingers and toes due to gangrene.”
Caitlin got to her feet and walked over to Saul. “I know you’re not going to
take him to a hospital, where his chances for a full recovery would be around
95%.” She stepped into his space, let him tower over her still naked form. Her
skin broke out in goosebumps and she suppressed the urge to hug herself, to
walk away. “But if you give me tweezers, gauze, disinfectants, dental floss, a
needle, a short knife, a lighter, three thick blankets, a pillow, lots of
water, protein mix and hot soup…” She put her hand on Saul’s chest seductively.
“Maybe, I’ll make it worth your while.”
Saul frowned. “Maybe?”
“Without a blood transfusion and a crash cart nearby, his chances are more like
fifty fifty.” Caitlin stepped back with a relieved exhale and glared at Saul.
“If he dies, I’ll kill myself before I do anything to please you.”
Saul flinched slightly before his expression darkened. Caitlin felt dread in
her stomach when Dean didn’t protest her words. She dropped to her knees beside
him.
“Dean? Dean? Come on, talk to me. Tell me I’m an idiot. Dean!” She turned to
Saul. “Get me what I asked for. Hurry!”
Saul closed the door behind him with a stony expression.
Dean opened one eye a fraction and whispered: “You’re pretty convincing. I
almost believed I was dying myself.”
Caitlin gave a startled sob. “That’s because I wasn’t lying, dumbass.” She
leaned down until her forehead rested on his. “I wasn’t lying.”
Dean’s left hand came up to rest against her neck. “It’s okay, Caitie. I’ll be
fine. I’m always fine.”
She pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Even if I was a shopaholic, I wouldn’t
buy your bull.”
Dean smiled for real, for the first time since Indiana. “That’s okay. It’s
free.” He let his eyes drift closed again and his hand fell limply back to the
floor. Caitlin took hold of it, rubbing his freezing fingers while she cried.
***** Waiting *****
Some time later, Saul returned, Brad behind him. They both had their arms full.
Saul put his load down just inside. He gave Caitlin a pointed look. “You have
24 hours.”
Brad stayed behind and helped her arrange everything into neat piles. “I’ll be
bringing you food and water. Just holler.” He was looking at Dean’s still form
while he spoke. He stopped in the doorway as he was leaving and finally met
Caitlin’s eyes. “Good luck, Sarah.”
She nodded her thanks and got to work.
The bullet was buried deep and while she dug for it, she was almost thankful
that Dean was passed out. Once it was gone, closing up the wound wasn’t that
hard. She ended up stitching his eyebrow and a gash on his left bicep too. Then
all she could do was keep him as warm and comfortable as possible and wait.
After a few hours, his pulse slowed a little, his breaths got deeper and
Caitlin called Brad and asked for soup. She mixed it with water and protein
until it was only slightly warmer than normal body temperature. Then she parted
his lips gently and fed him, a few drops at a time. She kept it going until the
liquid was too cold.
Caitlin felt bone tired and aching all over. She laid down next to Dean,
careful to keep a blanket between their naked bodies. It felt much like the
nights they had already spent sleeping close together, and it didn’t take long
for her to fall asleep.
She woke with a start, instantly aware. The shallow and quickened rhythm of
Dean’s breathing had been broken. She sat up next to him and waited anxiously
until he drew in a deeper, hitching breath. Caitlin kept watch over him until
her own heart no longer sat in her throat. She put her fingers on his carotid
and smiled to herself. Dean was getting better. She spent half an hour getting
some water and protein into him, before she lay down beside him again. This
time, she curled up under the blanket and reveled in the sensation of skin to
skin contact.
The next time she woke, Dean’s eyes were moving rapidly underneath his eyelids.
He was dreaming, not unconscious. She kissed his cheek and crawled out from
under their blankets. She knocked gently on the door and softly called Brad’s
name. Barely a minute passed before the door opened, to reveal Brad wearing
pajamas and rubbing his eyes sleepily. He eyed Caitlin questioningly.
“I think he’s stable for now. I’d like to go to the bathroom, please?”
Brad nodded. “Sure.” He waited for Caitlin to exit and locked the door behind
them. He stopped outside the bathroom door, and she went through the motions
alone. She kept her breaths deep and even and every time the ghost of ice cold
water permeated her senses, she banished it with the intimate, smooth feeling
of Dean’s skin against her own.
Back in the room, Caitlin sat down next to Dean, checked his pulse and
estimated his temperature. She looked up, surprised to see Brad still standing
in the door.
“So he’s really gonna be okay?” Brad spoke softly.
“We’ll see. I’d feel better if he could get a transfusion. He could run a fever
and we don’t have any antibiotics. There’s so many possible complications I
can’t counter with this.” Caitlin indicated the supplies Brad and Saul had
brought her.
Brad’s lips quirked upwards in a rare smile. “He doesn’t seem the type to
chicken out, though.”
Caitlin chuckled. “You have no idea.”
With one last lingering look at Dean, Brad nodded his head and left.
                                     XOXOX
Sam woke, feeling rested. As soon as he opened his eyes, worry overshadowed the
relief of having slept. He was in a room he didn’t remember ever seeing before.
Light and homey, knick-knacks and light blue curtains. The bed was a four-
poster and Sam was taking up most of it. Lucifer was nowhere to be seen or
heard. It remained to be seen whether that was a good thing or not.
He looked down to find himself still dressed in hospital clothes. He had helped
that girl. Then Lucifer had said Dean was headed into a trap. Sam didn’t
remember anything after that, least of all how he had ended up in someone’s
bedroom.
Sam stood and left the room quietly. He found the other rooms on the top floor
empty and slowly walked down the stairs. His eyes bulged when he caught sight
of the bodies and blood in the living room. He froze while he took stock of the
situation. The woman had been stabbed; the man had been killed by an angel. Sam
pressed the scar in his hand, half expecting everything to flicker and
disappear. Things stayed the same.
Sam switched his attention to the TV and startled at the completely still
profile on the couch. The familiar form made his heart skip a beat. “Cas?”
Castiel turned towards the voice and recoiled in horror. It was a devil, a
giant horned beast with hoofs and tail.
“Cas, is that really you? We thought you were dead. You walked into that
reservoir and just… dissolved. How are you here?”
The beast was talking to Castiel in incomprehensible growls and grunts, each
syllable painful to his ears. He put his hands over his ears and shut his eyes
tightly. He began humming a lullaby to himself to drown out the awful sounds.
Sam watched Cas cower in worried confusion until his eyes fell upon a crumpled
piece of paper bearing his name on the table. He read it, and sat down on the
couch opposite Cas with a little thump. He folded in on himself.
“Fuck, Cas. Are you seeing him? What do you see? Shit. I forgave you, you know.
I understand why you did it. I don’t… I never wished for you to feel like I
did.”
Cas rocked silently, eyes closed and hands over his ears. Sam shook his head
sadly.
Dean. Sam got up and searched high and low until he found a phone.
                                     XOXOX
Dean woke up with the mother of all headaches and feeling weak as a kitten.
Without opening his eyes, he groaned loudly.
“Sam? Did you catch the plate on that truck?” He yawned enthusiastically. “Hook
me up with some Advil, would you?”
Caitlin dug through the provisions and found a small cup labeled ‘painkillers’.
She held a couple and a bottle of water out to Dean. “Here.”
Dean opened his eyes to find Caitlin very close and completely naked. He tried
to sit up and the intense pain in his shoulder clued him in. Plan F. “Thanks.”
He let her put the pills into his mouth and gulped down enough water to swallow
them when she held the bottle to his mouth. He closed his eyes to wait for them
to kick in.
Caitlin called Brad for more soup. He almost dropped the bowl when Dean opened
his eyes at the sound of the door.
“You’re awake:”
“Relatively,” Dean grunted.
Brad remained frozen at the door, eyes fixed on Dean, until Caitlin wordlessly
took the bowl of soup from his hands. He abruptly tore his gaze away and left
without another word.
Dean was magnanimously allowed a pillow under his head while Caitlin spoon fed
him, only after strict instructions to let her know if he started to feel
strange.
Caitlin insisted Dean stayed lying down, even when he had to piss. She grabbed
his dick unceremoniously and put the tip into an empty water bottle. Dean made
a sound that definitely wasn’t a squeak and protested vehemently, until the
strain of talking and gesticulating with his right hand had made him dizzy and
out of breath. He swallowed his pride and did what he had to, bemoaning the
fact that he couldn’t even blush, much less pop a boner while a beautiful naked
woman had her fingers around his cock.
When he no longer felt like he was about to pass out, he took her hand. “How
long?”
“How long what?” Caitlin didn’t meet his eyes but took his hand and laced their
fingers together.
“How long until they expect you to pay them back for letting me live?” He
squeezed her hand.
“About six to eight hours, I think.”
“What are the chances I’ll be back in fighting form by then?”
Caitlin chuckled, then saw that he was serious. “Are you a human being? A homo
sapiens? No weird monster crossbreed, genetically engineered elite soldier or
secret superhero?” She gave him a wry smile as he shook his head minutely.
“Then your chances are a great big fat zero.”
“Pessimist. Gimme some more grub, ‘n I’ll show you.”
***** Nick of Time *****
Sam gave up when Dean’s cell went directly to voicemail a third time in a row.
The GPS in the cell he’d swiped from the dead guy informed him that he was in
Colorado, at least 25 hours of hard driving from where Dean had been headed the
last time they spoke.
He walked over to where Cas was singing quietly to himself, careful to keep a
few feet distance.
“Cas, I know you’re not feeling well, but I need your help. Dean needs your
help. You remember Dean, don’t you?”
Cas didn’t react to Sam’s voice at all. Sam sighed and ran his hands through
his hair.
“You saved him before. He was in hell and you got him out. You Cas. That’s your
job. You save Dean.” Sam’s voice rose at the end, desperation coloring his
words.
“Dean?” Cas’ quiet rocking stopped. He still didn’t look at Sam.
“You save Dean,” Sam repeated more softly.
“I save Dean.” Cas was staring off into the distance blankly.
“Dean’s in trouble. We have to find him.”
“I save Dean.”
“Cas, you’re seeing things that aren’t there. I need you to push through it. We
need to find Dean.”
“Find Dean.” Cas finally looked at Sam, eyes wide and frightened but more
lucid. “Is that… is that you, Sam?”
“Yeah, Cas. It’s me. Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real. I’m just me.”
                                     XOXOX
Brad knocked softly on the door before entering. Honest to god knocked. Dean
chuckled.
“Hey there, champ.”
“Hey.” Brad sounded slightly breathless. “I just meant to ask if you guys
needed anything?”
“You do know that we’re held captive and not guests at a fancy hotel, right?”
Caitlin softened the words with a smile when Brad flinched at her snappish
tone.
“I know. Two more hours,” Brad all but whispered. Dean clenched his fists but
Caitlin nodded calmly.
“You won’t let them hurt us, will you?” She looked up at Brad, trust in her
eyes.
He averted his eyes. “I can’t help you, Sarah. I’m really sorry.”
“Why not?” Dean raised his head higher and Brad blushed under his scrutiny.
“They’re family.” Brad’s words were almost inaudible.
Dean made a sad lopsided smile. “Family don’t end in blood,” he muttered to
himself.
Caitlin gasped. She’d been too worried, too focused on saving Dean to spare his
brother any thought. “Where’s Sam?”
Her words were hopeful, expectant. Dean let himself fall back on the pillow and
closed his eyes. His heart skipped a couple of beats and went into overdrive.
Sam. Sam wasn’t at Stanford with Jess. Jess was dead. Sam was … gone. If it had
been agonizing to leave Sam at the hospital, it had been worse than hell to
hear that detached voice on the phone. Now, the pain hit Dean all over again,
somehow ten times harder.
“Why did you save me?” Dean barely recognized his own voice. “Why didn’t you
let me die?” He was wrecked and wretched, angry and miserable. His chest hurt
and his eyes swam. He was floating through blinding lights headed towards
darkness.
Caitlin watched Dean tailspin out of control, felt his pulse quicken until her
first impulse was to scream for a crash cart. Then it stopped. Dean’s heart had
stopped. Her own pulse racing, she punched his sternum with the back of her
fist and felt his carotid for any change.
“Dean, goddammit!” She banged her fist into his chest again. “You don’t get to
chicken out on me, asshole.”
Just as she was about to start compressions for real, there was a flutter under
her fingers. His chest rose as he drew in air and she stared at the motion,
transfixed.
Brad met her tear streaked gaze when she finally looked up.
“I’ll try to get you some more time.”
                                     XOXOX
Sam looked around in the tiny cabin where Cas had brought them in the blink of
an eye. It had been a trap alright. It hadn’t gone off as planned, though. But
there was real blood among the black goo. They couldn’t find the heads anywhere
so Sam walked the perimeter, looking for tracks. He found the trail of Dean’s
surplus army boots, noted that there were dried blood droplets here and there.
It didn’t take long to find where Dean had been parked. The place provided no
clues as to where he had gone from there.
Sam ended up hotwiring the car the Leviathans had hidden close by. Cas was
still a mess, talking to himself and people that weren’t there. It took awhile
for Sam to coax him into the passenger seat. He headed for the nearest ER to
ask around, though knowing Dean, he had probably gone to a motel to patch
himself up instead.
It was only a glint of sun on metal that alerted him to the car’s existence.
Sam pulled over and went closer to look. A black car lay upside down in the
ditch. As Sam etched closer he read the plates and felt ice cold dread in his
stomach. He ran forward, stumbled down the slope. He didn’t breathe until he
could finally see the inside of the vehicle, empty. Worry returned at a closer
inspection. There was a lot of blood in the driver’s seat. Bobby’s old flask,
Dean’s jacket and cell lay scattered on the ceiling. Further inspection turned
up a clip for Dean’s Colt and the trunk was inaccessible.
Sam spent half an hour convincing Cas to get out of the car and lift the old
Ford so he could empty the trunk of incriminating objects. Then they drove on
cautiously, Sam’s eyes scanning for signs of Dean’s whereabouts. He was about
to turn around, sure Dean couldn’t have gotten this far wounded and on foot,
when he spotted a driveway. He drove all the way up to the house at the end,
eager to ask if they knew anything about Dean. There were no cars visible and
Sam hesitated briefly, before knocking. Maybe someone was home anyway.
                                     XOXOX
“Dad, I was there. The guy’s heart stopped. You gotta give Sarah another day.”
“So this isn’t about you ditching our team?” It was Cody that got into Brad’s
face. “Just because you like dicks, you can’t let the real men have some fun?”
Brad blushed furiously and stepped backwards. Cody pushed him, pulled at him,
until he was pinned against a wall. “What is it, Brad? Girls sticking
together?”
Brad stared at his brother, red faced and gulping air.
There was a knock on the front door. Cody gave a final push before letting go
and following Saul. Brad simply stepped away from the wall enough that he could
see. Saul grabbed his old Glock from a shelf and opened the door. It revealed a
tall broad shouldered man with chin length brown hair.
The stranger’s eyes seemed to widen as if in recognition, before he frowned.
“Where?” The man must be close to Cody’s age. The single word he had spoken,
had that distinct tone of command that Brad had always associated with his
older brother.
“Where what?” Saul uncocked the safety on his gun.
The stranger seemed unconcerned. “Where’s your step daughter?”
Saul grimaced and almost pulled the trigger before the gun flew from his hand.
He stared at his empty hand in bewilderment. The stranger’s expression mirrored
Saul’s but surprise didn’t stop him from driving his fist into Saul’s jaw with
a mean uppercut. Saul toppled backwards, out cold.
Cody moved to shield his father’s limp body as the stranger took out a gun on
his own. To Brad, everything moved in slow motion from the instant his
brother’s life was on the line. Cody opened his mouth, eyes glinting with rage
and Brad spoke before his brother could forfeit his life with spiteful curses.
“Wait! I’ll show you. Just don’t hurt my family.” Brad could feel Cody’s eyes
on him, scornful and promising punishment.
The stranger exploited the distraction and deftly hit Cody above the ear with
the butt of his gun. Cody’s eyes rolled back as he collapsed in on himself.
Brad ran to Cody, oblivious of the stranger keeping his gun trained at him.
He patted Cody’s cheek, murmuring apologies, begging him to respond. He felt
Cody’s warm breath against his hand, and exhaled with relief. Brad looked up at
the stranger with his eyes narrowed in anger.
“I told you not to hurt them.”
“And now he won’t force me to,” came the soft answer. Then he shouted over his
shoulder: “Cas, get in here.”
Another man, older and shorter, with messy dark hair and striking blue eyes,
entered hesitantly.
“Sam?”
“I need you to make sure these two don’t move. Don’t kill them.” Sam tucked his
gun away and caught Brad’s arm above the elbow. “Come on, Brutus. Lead the
way.”
Brad smoothed a few stray hairs from Cody’s closed eyes and got to his feet
sullenly.
“There’s a guy with her. He’s hurt. You might want to let me go in first and
give them a heads up,” Brad found himself saying.
Sam’s grip on his arm tightened painfully. “Why?”
“Sarah asked him where Sam was just fifteen minutes ago and he freaked. I’m
guessing you’re the Sam she meant.”
“What do you mean, he freaked?” Sam’s eyes widened.
“Like, his heart stopped beating, freaked. Sarah got him ticking again real
quick, though.”
Sam gulped and frowned. “How badly is he hurt?”
“He lost a lot of blood. Sarah thought he was stabilized but something riled
him up, alright.” Brad looked up at Sam, who in turn looked like he was about
to either murder someone or cry.
“Is he your boyfriend? We thought he was Sarah’s but they kept saying no.”
Sam gave a startled laugh. “He’s my brother.”
Brad’s eyes widened a fraction before he smiled sadly. “He’s lucky his big
brother has his back.”
Sam gave him a strange look, before finally speaking. “He’s the oldest. And we
have each other's backs. Let’s go get them. I’ll be right behind you.”
                                     XOXOX
Caitlin looked up sharply when Brad opened the door. Dean barely opened half an
eye. Brad looked at him nervously.
“Seems like you’ve been rescued.”
That had Dean perking up, both eyes opening and the muscles in his neck
straining to lift his head. Brad barely glanced at Caitlin and kept eye contact
with Dean when he continued: “Your brother is here.”
Dean gasped, as if in pain. His lips thinned before he spoke hollowly. “My
brother is dead.”
Sam stepped into view with a lopsided smile. “Am not.”
“Sam!” Caitlin jumped to her feet and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank
God, you’re okay.”
Sam grinned impishly, his cheeks blushing scarlet. “Not thanks to God exactly.”
He gave Dean a meaningful look. Then he turned his eyes to the ceiling and
cleared his throat. “Um, Caitlin?”
“What is it?”
“Why are you naked?”
Caitlin scrambled for a blanket, blushing wildly as well. She accidentally
bared Dean in the process, causing Sam to yelp and turn his back. Brad soon
mirrored the blush on Sam’s and Caitlin’s faces. Dean laughed loudly until it
turned into a coughing fit and he cursed at the pain and discomfort.
***** Reunion *****
Caitlin had wrapped herself in a blanket and Dean was once again covered up
from his neck to his toes. Sam was still flustered when he spoke again. “I
guess I should get you guys some clothes and release Cas from guard dut…”
“Cas?!” Dean’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “Seriously?”
Sam nodded and smiled. “Yeah. He’s not all there at the moment, but I think
he’ll get better.”
“What is this? Coming back from the dead day?” Dean grinned almost manically.
“Technically only Cas did that. He got to me before it was too late.”
Dean shook his head disbelievingly. It was a small movement, his body still
worn out. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled.
Caitlin hugged the blanket even tighter to her body. “Who’s Cas?”
Sam glanced over at his brother, letting him know that he was getting on with
business and leaving that particular conversation to him. He grabbed Brad’s
shoulder and pulled him outside.
“You’re gonna help me find something to tie you guys up with,” he told the
young man.
Brad nodded resignedly.
From the room behind them, Caitlin’s voice could be heard. “An ANGEL?”
Sam led Brad back to where Cody and Saul were sprawled on the floor.
Cas sat next to the two unconscious men, singing quietly to himself. Brad
pointed Sam towards Cody’s room, and soon he found himself tied up next to his
family, all three of them shuffled off to the side of the hallway. Cas hadn’t
moved from his spot on the floor.
Sam crouched down next to Cas. “I found Dean.”
Cas got quickly to his feet. Sam stopped him from walking further into the
house.
“Let’s just grab his stuff in the car.”
Cas tilted his head in an unspoken question.
“They’re naked,” Sam said with a sigh.
Cas only appeared more nonplussed but followed Sam dutifully to the car.
Caitlin kept staring at Dean, her thoughts racing everywhere at once. They were
saved. They were safe. The horror she had been bracing herself against for the
last day wouldn’t come to pass. She was free again. Dean would be okay. They
could take him to the hospital now.
Sam appeared back in the doorway with Dean’s duffel. He set it down and ruffled
carelessly through it.
“Hey, Bitch! Watch my stuff.”
“Yeah yeah. Love you too, Jerk.” Sam grinned but didn’t look up.
Dean smiled softly to himself.
Sam handed Caitlin a pair of sweats, a T-shirt and a plaid shirt. Then he
closed his eyes and held his arms up and to each side. “I’ll hold the blanket
while you get dressed.”
“What about me?” Dean complained.
Sam kept his eyes closed and didn’t move the blanket but his expression changed
to one of amusement. “Won’t getting dressed be easier after Cas gets his hands
on you?”
Dean made a disgruntled yet affirmative noise. Caitlin pulled the T-shirt over
her head and frowned. “Dean? Is there something I should know about you and
that Cas-person?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, since you want his hands on you rather than your clothes…”
Sam shook with laughter and ended up dropping the, by now unnecessary, blanket.
Dean merely scowled at them both.
“Watch this,” Sam said to Caitlin and left the room. He returned a few minutes
later, angel in tow.
Cas went straight to his knees next to Dean. “Dean. You are injured.”
Dean’s face was weirdly expressionless. “Cas. I really thought you were dead,
man.”
Cas reached out to touch Dean’s forehead gently. Caitlin watched in amazement
as Dean instantly turned a much healthier color, the cuts and bruises on his
face simply gone. He sat up, his blanket pooling over his lap, and ripped off
the bandage over his shoulder. Caitlin squeaked in protest until she saw that
the wound had disappeared completely. Dean glanced up at her, smirking, when
her voice abruptly cut off. He grabbed a shirt from the duffel bag and pulled
it over his head. “A little privacy, maybe?”
Sam ushered Cas outside and Caitlin followed them. She eyed the angel
curiously. His eyes were a rare blue color but other than that he looked…
ordinary. If she hadn’t just witnessed a miracle, she would have maintained
that Dean was delusional.
“This place,” Cas said then, “is not a good place, Sam. It was built with the
bones of the hopeless and paid for with the blood of the terrified.”
Sam sighed. “It’s okay, Cas. It’s not that bad. Remember, it’s not real.”
Cas’ shoulders slumped. “I don’t know, Sam. Maybe it is true. It makes sense.
Why bother with illusions when real horrors exist in abundance?”
Dean walked up to them, exaggerating his usual bowlegged swagger a little to
show his satisfaction with being back on his feet. “There you are. Now where’s
the damned Brady Bunch?”
Half an hour later, Brad, Saul, and Cody were tied up in the tiny room Caitlin
had been locked up in for the past week. They were all awake now, Cody and his
father barely containing their rage. Brad sat quietly next to them, studying
the concrete floor intently.
“What do you want us to do with them?” Sam towered in the doorway, acting as a
barrier between the men on the floor and Caitlin.
“I guess we should call Derek? I mean, they're wanted now, aren't they?”
Caitlin shivered and wrapped the plaid shirt tighter around herself. It didn’t
help.
"Sure, if that's what you want." Sam looked a little dubious.
“Caitie are you really going to waste your time in a courtroom, talking about
all the shitty crap they’ve pulled on you to strangers, just so they can get
locked up and take it up the ass a decade or two?” Dean sent a scowl between
his brother’s shoulder and the doorway.
“What do you want me to say, Dean? I mean, what’s the alternative? Leave them?
Let them get another chance at me? Or at someone else, maybe. Someone no one
else will know about and try to save?” Caitlin’s breaths were coming rapidly
and she swayed slightly.
Dean brought her into a tight hug. “Breathe with me.”
When Caitlin settled down some, Dean rubbed her back and drew back a little to
look her in the eyes. “You don’t have to put yourself through all that. I don’t
care that they’re human. Not after what they’ve done to you. I’ll make sure you
don’t have to worry about them ever again.”
Caitlin gasped and pushed him away. "You’d kill them? Do you want to be like
them? Dean, what is wrong with you?"
Dean narrowed his eyes. “I don’t want to be like them. And I’m not. I’m not!”
He drew in a shaky breath and visibly relaxed his shoulders. “I’m just trying
to look out for you, kiddo.”
Caitlin’s eyebrows rose. “Kiddo? That’s what you think of me?”
"Are you going to give me another telling off for using a simple nickname?"
Dean stepped into her space, tense and frowny.
A hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Dean.” Cas stood there, looking between
them.
Dean stepped back and couldn’t quite meet the angel’s intense gaze.
Cas swallowed visibly. “I feel very uncomfortable. If you want me to smite
someone, I will do so. As long as it means we can leave.”
Dean looked at their prisoners, then back to Caitlin. “How about that, Caitie?
Let an angel of the Lord pass the judgment.”
Sam sucked in air as if to speak, but Dean held up a hand to silence him.
“What does that mean?” She shifted uncertainly where she stood.
“It means instant death,” Sam said. He cast a withering look at Dean. “It means
burning eyeballs and boiling brains. And if Cas wasn’t half out of his mind he
would never have suggested it.”
Caitlin walked backward, eyes wide and mouth open until her back hit a wall.
She shook her head violently.
Dean kept his eyes on Cas, his eyebrows knitting together, then raising in an
unspoken question. “Cas?” The name was a husky whisper.
Cas held himself rigid but kept his eyes on a spot three inches above Dean’s
face. “I’m sorry.”
Dean frowned. “What are you talking about?” Then he blinked, only to find the
angel gone. “Son of a bitch! Cas! Get back here!”
“Dean.” Sam paused when Dean stopped to listen and sighed sadly. “I think we
should leave him alone. Give him some time.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Me.”
***** Duty Bound *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Caitlin walked over to Sam, put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him away
from the door. She closed it with a last glance at the three captive men on the
floor and their wild eyed expressions of shock. She probably looked the same.
Cas, an actual angel, had just vanished into thin air. That was the sort of
party trick that overshadowed healing bullet wounds and threatening to smite
people.
Caitlin walked down the hall and straight out the door, breathing in deep and
blinking her eyes against the bright light of day. Behind her, the brothers
shuffled closer with awkward, hesitant steps.
Dean followed Caitlin, unwilling to let her go too far on her own. But his
attention was fixed on Sam. “What did you mean, you’re what’s wrong with Cas?”
Sam’s shoulders sagged. “He couldn’t fix the wall.”
Dean opened his mouth to ask what that was supposed to mean.
“He couldn’t seal my memories of the cage away again, so he took them. Or, not
the memories, that wasn’t possible, he said. Just the pain.”
Dean couldn’t tear his gaze away from his little brother. Sam had been
hallucinating since his memories returned, sure. But until last week, he had
been… normal. Had been Sammy, empathetic to witnesses and badass fighting
monsters.
So Cas had taken away the pain that caused the hallucinations and now, Cas was
messed up? A freaking millennia old angel! Dean felt the impact of what kind of
horror Sam had carried around bottled up inside him, as a punch to the gut. He
growled low in his throat with sudden anger. All this time, Sam had carried
this weight, because Cas had wanted to play God.
“He’ll get better, I’m sure. Which you weren’t. He was the one who broke the
wall in the first place. Let him pay his dues.” Dean’s voice was cold with
barely contained fury.
Sam’s eyes widened in surprise at Dean’s reaction. He lowered his gaze and
stayed silent.
Caitlin was standing just outside the front door, head turned towards the sky.
“You okay?” Dean asked her when it was clear that Sam was done talking for the
moment.
Caitlin held up her hand without turning her head away from the horizon. “Don’t
talk to me.” She took another couple of steps, off the porch and down onto the
driveway gravel. The little rocks cut up into her bare feet. Her hand flew to
the collar around her neck. She sought out the small fence, panic closing up
her throat; she was still at least twenty yards from the perimeter. It still
burned, like an echo. “Twilight,” she gasped out with a whimper.
Dean’s arm wrapped around her shoulder within seconds. “I’ve got you.”
He bent down and snuck his other arm behind her legs and scooped her up. “Come
on, Caitie.” He carried her back inside and after a moment’s hesitation, he
took her to Brad’s room. He put her down carefully on the queen sized bed.
Slowly, he took her face between his hands. “You in there, Caitie?”
“I want to go to Hawaii.” Caitlin’s lower lip trembled slightly as she pouted.
Dean gave a startled laugh. “What?”
“I want to go to Hawaii and open a frozen yoghurt shop. Like, right now.”
“Why don’t you open a Tiki bar and I’ll go with you. I’d look dashing mixing
cocktails, don’t you think?” Dean hugged her to his chest and stroked the back
of her head slowly. “Sam could learn to surf. Work on his tan.”
Caitlin’s hands came up behind him and fisted into his shirt. “I think… I think
I could really use a drink.”
Dean could feel her warm breath through the fabric of his shirt, tickling one
of his nipples. She tilted her head to look at him, and his breath caught.
Under the waves of blond hair, her brown eyes were large and shimmering with
tears. His eyes slid to her mouth. Her lips were darker than usual, a little
shiny with moisture. He lifted his glance again and found her staring at his
mouth.
Distant yelling and screaming erupted from down the hall. Sam hurriedly threw
open the door to find Saul shouting for help, straining against his bonds. Cody
was free, his hands around Brad’s neck, squeezing. Sam yanked Cody away and
Brad gasped for breath.
“I’ll kill you! Fucking fag!” Cody screamed at his brother and fought against
Sam’s hold.
Sam got hold of both Cody’s wrists and pinned them high behind his back. Cody
whimpered at the pain and Sam smiled grimly. He looked down at Brad, who was
still breathing hard, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You okay?”
Brad nodded, keeping his eyes on the floor.
Dean peeked through the doorway, eyebrows raised in surprise. “So you’re not
just crazy about tying knots, sicko. You get out of them too.”
Cody simply sneered at him. Sam gave Dean a look.
“In the trunk?” Dean didn’t need Sam to ask him to get handcuffs. Sam nodded
and Dean left, passing Caitlin in the hallway. She stood a ways back, all she
could see through the doorway was Sam’s back.
“What was it?” Her words came out shaky.
“That bondage freak got free. We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Carrying handcuffs, and a few extra coils of rope, Dean put a reassuring hand
on the small of Caitlin’s back as he walked past her. Just a fleeting touch,
innocent but intimate. Caitlin shivered as he disappeared into the small grey
room.
Dean snapped the cuffs around Cody’s wrists and tugged at them none too gently.
Cody stubbornly kept silent, though he breathed in sharply.
“You’re not the only one who can tie a granny knot, smartass.” Dean smiled
wolfishly and started tying ropes around Cody’s shoulders, biceps and forearms.
He kept the ropes taut and topped his work off with tying some wire around
Cody’s fingers.
Dean stepped back with a satisfied smirk. “Good luck getting out of that.”
Cody twisted around and spat in Dean’s face. “Fucking asshole.”
Dean carefully wiped the spit from his face and dried his hand on Cody’s t-
shirt. His expression never changed but his eyes were lit up by cold fury.
“Keep it up, Sonny. I hear karma’s a real bitch.”
Sam stayed to prevent more trouble. Dean washed up and returned to find Caitlin
back in Brad’s room.
“We need to figure out what to do with them.” He sat down next to her on the
bed.
“Let the police handle it.” She sighed and closed her eyes. Dean wrapped an arm
around her shoulders and started to speak but Caitlin stopped him, a finger on
his lips.
“I don’t care about your feelings and thirst for revenge. Your macho
protectiveness aside, this is something I should have done ten years ago.”
“You gotta be kiddin’ me. You were what? Eighteen? Did you even graduate from
high school before you ran away?”
Caitlin turned her face from him, shaking her head.
“I was sixteen. I just wanted to be free, to be my own person. Sometimes I
couldn’t fit inside my body, I hated it so much. Hated everything. All I had
was this dream that someday I’d be a doctor and I’d save people. Save mothers
from dying and their daughters from being left with monsters.” Her voice
trailed off in a whisper. “But now I see how silly that was.”
Dean made a small sound of disbelief. “Caitie, that was fucking brave. You
really have no idea how strong and smart and amazin’ you are, do you?”
She looked back at him, lips turning upward in a sly little smile. “I have an
inkling.” She sighed. “But I was still stupid. Going at it the wrong way.”
Dean gazed at her steadily, question in his eyes.
“My story isn’t that rare, sadly. But the details vary. Treating cancer is not
the most effective way to help others. Telling my story and pressing charges,
bringing the bastards to justice and standing tall… That’s what I should have
done. I hope it’s not too late.”
“I get what you’re saying, but Caitie, that’s a lot to take on. You don’t have
to. Seriously, all you should be focusing on is surviving and gettin’ back on
your feet.”
Caitlin regarded him silently, contemplating her next words. “Why do you feel
like you have to spend your life saving people you don’t know? You killed the
demon that started it all, didn’t you? Justice was served. But you still live
off the grid, squatting, hustling pool, just so you can get busted up fighting
monsters every other night. You don’t have to, you know?” Caitlin wore a
lopsided sad smile.
Dean’s shoulders tensed and he pinched his lips tightly. After a long exhale,
he answered in a somewhat raspy voice. “Someone has to. And maybe… maybe
revenge isn’t without casualties. Maybe me ‘n Sam are still trying to settle
our debts.”
Caitlin reached across his lap to take his other hand. She ran her index finger
over his palm and fingers. “Who decides when enough is enough?”
Dean swallowed and clenched his jaw. “It’s never going to be enough.”
Caitlin squeezed his hand and let go. She pushed lightly at his chest until he
let himself fall backward on the bed, a puzzled look on his face. She climbed
over him until she straddled him, her weight resting across his hips. She
leaned forward, her hands pressing his shoulders into the mattress until her
face hovered a few inches above his.
“I know,” she whispered. She closed the distance between them. It wasn’t really
a kiss since neither of them moved. Their lips touched and they breathed each
other’s air. Slowly, Dean raised his hands to her face, stroking her cheeks,
brushing hair behind her ears, caressing her forehead, following the line of
her nose.
“What are we doing?” His words were spoken directly into her mouth, his voice
rougher than usual. Her fingers curled and dug into his shoulders.
“More than just surviving. It’s about time, right?” She increased the pressure
on his lips, trapping his lower lip, questioningly running her tongue lightly
across it.
“Mmh.” Dean closed his eyes and held her still. He angled himself so he could
nip at her lips and coax her tongue into his mouth. He sucked at it lightly and
smiled at the small gasp she made.
He lowered his hands, skating down her shoulders, tickling her arms, reaching
down to rest on her hips. She withdrew her tongue slowly, swirling it over his
lips, leaving her mouth open in invitation. He slid his hands inside her t-
shirt, his fingertips gliding over the smooth skin on her back, feeling her
muscles work.
She hummed in welcome when his tongue pushed past her lips and he licked behind
her teeth, swirled around her tongue slowly. He drew back and covered her mouth
with soft kisses, pressing her body against his with his hands on her shoulder
blades. He bucked his hips and felt her freeze up when the bulge of his hard
cock touched her. Then she ground down against it, and he grunted with pleasure
from the unexpected friction.
“Shit, Caitie,” he breathed. He freed his hands and pushed at her shoulders
lightly until she sat upright. She smiled and continued to move her hips,
barely, just a teasing sensation. “Fuck.”
“Later, I hope.” She smiled mischievously, her pupils dilated, her muscles lax.
“Yeah, later.” Dean looked at her in wonder. “That more than surviving thing
might be about time but I’m not so sure now is the right time. We should finish
things up here.”
Caitlin pouted. “The great Dean Winchester, saying no to sex.”
“I’m saying no to facing your dickwad family with cum stains on my pants,
Sugar.”
Chapter End Notes
     I need to thank all of you who read this far. Thank you for joining
     me on this crazy journey.
     Personally, I don't mind when writers of free stories ask readers to
     comment or even "shower them with love". However, I'm not really good
     at asking for such things myself. But honestly, I could use some.
     It's been dreadfully quiet here for some weeks while I've published
     chapter after chapter. This month has been tough for me on many
     levels.
     You don't have to do anything. I'm six chapters away from finishing
     this monster and nothing could make me abandon it now. But if this
     story has moved you in any way and you have a little time to spare,
     any comments would really, really make my day(s). I also love
     receiving constructive criticism - which in my experience takes more
     than a little spare time to offer, so not only will it give me a
     chance to improve, it would also mean someone put effort into helping
     me improve. Seriously, constructive criticism is the best!
     Okay, rants over. Thank you once again simply for reading. That's
     what really matters.
***** Choices *****
Chapter Notes
     Ah, come on. You didn't really think it'd be that easy, did you?
Sam watched the sullen prisoners. The fear, anger, and impatience emanated from
them in rolling waves, higher and higher as time passed and nothing happened.
At last, Dean opened the door and motioned to Sam for a switch.
Caitlin was standing in the doorway to Brad’s room, hugging herself.
“Hey. How are you doing?” Sam walked up to her and let her lead him into the
room.
She smiled tremulously as she sat down in the only chair in the room. “I feel
terrified. But I think I’m ready to… you know. I mean, I have to be.”
“Exactly what are you thinking here?”
Caitlin frowned, unsure.
When she didn’t speak, Sam elaborated. “You can let the police have them for
kidnapping you this time. Derek and I discussed it after you were taken. You
wouldn’t have to deal with more than them holding you captive to get them sent
away for another decade. Maybe two.”
Caitlin bit her thumb, thinking. “It sounds so reasonable. Almost doable.
Tempting.”
Sam smiled softly. “But?”
“It’s not enough. It’s… half-baked, somehow.” She lifted her feet to rest on
the edge of the chair and hugged her curled up legs and rested her chin on her
knees. “I don’t know, Sam. I can’t really explain it. Right now, I don’t know
what happens tomorrow. Do I go back to Seattle, try to get my lease on the new
apartment back? Maybe I can get extra hours over the summer and still finish my
residency. I could go somewhere else, start over. Or maybe… I think I’d like to
travel some more. Go with you and Dean, help with research and backup.”
Sam was shaking his head in horror at her last words. “No, don’t. We want you
to be safe. You’ve had enough trouble because of us.”
Caitlin bowed her head. “I don’t know what else to do. Who am I even supposed
to be, now? Caitlin Smith or Sarah Stevenson? Aspiring doctor or-or… a victim
and a… witness.” It was hard to breathe through the words. She wiped her tears,
rubbing her cheeks against her knees and forced long deep breaths through her
nose.
“You’re you.” Sam leaned forward, eyes boring into Caitlin’s. “You’re the sum
of everything they did to you and everything you became after you left. You
take it all and use it, you become the best version of yourself you can be,
achieve all the dreams you can. You’re you.”
Caitlin returned his gaze. The silence stretched between them, natural and
comfortable.
Sam ran a finger along the scar in his palm. If this had happened two days ago,
Lucifer would have been here, all too happy to remind Sam of being trapped and
hurt and…
“What are your dreams?” Caitlin’s sudden question made him jolt.
“Nightmares, mostly,” Sam replied followed by a soft huff of air, the ghost of
a chuckle.
“Why aren’t you allowed to have dreams and go for them like everyone else?”
Sam smiled softly again, barely meeting her eyes. “I’ll call Derek and set
things up. If you’re sure?”
Caitlin raised one eyebrow a fraction at his deflection. Then she nodded and
swallowed. “Say hi.”
Sam went to the gray room. “Dean? We’re calling in the feds. Can I use your
phone?”
Dean gave Sam a confused look. “I lost it.”
“I know. I brought it, I charged it. I don’t have my own.”
Dean waved at him to go ahead and Sam left.
Cody smirked up at Dean. “Go ahead and call the goody two shoes. They can’t
keep us.”
“What makes you say that, dickwad?” Dean’s fingers itched with the need to just
shoot the fucker.
“You’re wanted. It’ll be her word against ours. No one is going to believe sad
little Sarah.”
Dean bent down and gripped the front of Cody’s shirt tight. He dragged him to a
standing position against the wall and pushed him up high until his feet barely
touched the ground. Cody struggled to breathe and managed only enough air to
stay conscious. Dean clenched his jaw and swallowed against the rage inside
him.
“Listen up, you little, useless lump of toxic waste. You’re all gonna plead
guilty. You’re all gonna tell the nice blue men exactly what you’ve done.
You’re gonna tell them ‘bout every time she said no and you didn’t stop, every
time she begged you to leave her alone, and you took her anyway.” Dean brought
his face closer to Brad’s. “You’re gonna let them judge you. And you’re gonna
pray they judge you harshly. Because if their sentence don’t measure up… I’ll
find you. And you don’t want me carving her pain out of your flesh.”
Dean let go and stepped away abruptly.
Cody crumbled in a heap and breathed hard before speaking again. “Threatening
us won’t help your case. That’s coercion.”
Dean smiled grimly. “But it’s your word against mine.” He bent down and grabbed
Cody’s hair, forcing his head back. His last words were spoken too low for
anyone but Cody to hear. “Until I come for you.”
Dean let his index finger glide smoothly across Cody’s neck, mimicking how he
would love to slice his throat open. Cody’s Adam's apple jumped against the
touch and Dean’s wolfish smile widened. “You know it’s true, don’t you? You
wouldn’t be the first monster I’ve killed. Nor the first one I take my time
with.”
Cody opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly stupid.
He was interrupted by Brad. “Cody just shut up, for God’s sake. He’ll kill
you.” Brad’s eyes burned into Dean’s when he continued. “He’s clearly a
complete psychopath. Probably worse than you, big brother.”
Cody snorted with derision. “Getting all hot and bothered, Brat?” He enunciated
the t clearly. “Want the new alpha male to strip you and pound your ass while
you’re tied up and can’t do anything but just take it?”
Brad pinched his lips together and closed his eyes, his face glowing red.
Dean looked between the two of them with wide eyes. “Okay, that’s it,” he
growled and pulled one of Cody’s socks off. He stuffed it into Cody’s mouth and
tied it in place. “You might think you’re the douchiest douche to ever douche,
hotshot. But you’re just the easiest douche to get rid of.” Dean smiled,
satisfied with Cody’s angry but now unintelligible noises. “Now I won’t
accidentally kill you for being dumber than snot.”
Sam stood in the hallway, scrolling through Dean’s contacts until he hit
jackpot. Of course, Dean had Derek listed as “shrink cop”. The call was
answered after the second beep.
“Morgan speaking.”
“Hey. You wrap up that case in California yet?”
“Sam?”
“Yeah. We found her.”
“The Mitchells?”
“Dean would make a joke about them being too tied up to talk right now.”
Derek laughed. “I’m sure he would.”
Sam gave him the address. “Don’t wait too long. One of them’s a regular
Houdini.” As an afterthought, he added: “And maybe do some serious background
check on the house. There might be something fishy about it.”
Derek sighed. “Sam, that’s weaker than see-through coffee. What should we be
looking for?”
“I dunno. Who built it and where the money came from, maybe.”
Another sigh. “I’ll ask Garcia to dig deep.”
Sam opened the door as Dean straightened up. Cody’s angry spluttering behind
the gag made him glance curiously at Dean, who simply shrugged.
Sam blinked twice before speaking. “So get this. The cavalry will be here in a
few hours but Derek’s team won’t be here until sometime tomorrow.”
Dean frowned. “Then Caitlin’s coming with us until they get here.”
Sam nodded his assent. “Let’s see if we can grab some cash and get an actual
motel for the night, then.”
Dean gave Sam a curt nod and bent down to dig into Saul’s back pocket. The
heavy set man tried to squirm away but kept his mouth shut. He glared daggers,
though, as Dean produced his wallet and whooped when he opened it. Dean counted
seven hundred dollar bills, whistling. “Now, I don’t usually steal from
civilians, so let’s call this a loan, shall we?”
Saul sulked and shrugged. “Not like I can stop you.”
Dean chuckled humorlessly. “You’re right. As helpless as a babe. Or a kid.” His
voice took on a dangerous note and Saul flinched. “How do I take the collar off
her?”
Saul pressed his lips together, looking torn. Finally, he spoke: “There’s a
master bedroom when you go through the living room. The key is on the
nightstand to the right.”
Dean patted Saul’s cheek condescendingly. “Thank you, pops. I hope they tear
you apart in prison.” Dean gave him a wide, fake cheerful smile before leaving.
The key was there and Dean hurried back to Brad’s room where Caitlin still sat
in the chair, lost in thought. He rapped the door frame twice before entering
and she looked up, half startled, half relieved.
“Hey. Ready to get that thing off your neck?”
She stood and took a long shaky breath. “You’ve got the key?”
Dean nodded and opened his palm to show her. She turned her back to him and
lifted her hair out of the way. He stooped down and turned the collar with care
until the keyhole was visible. His light touches on her skin made her shiver.
The key slid into the lock easily and when Dean turned it, the collar snapped
open. He tested the flexibility of it, opening it wide enough to slide it off
Caitlin’s neck. His hands were caught under hers where she held her hair and he
leaned closer as he held it up for her to see. Caitlin shivered again, Dean’s
breath ruffling the short hairs at the nape of her neck. One of his hands let
go of the collar and slid out from the confinement of her arm; then the fabric
of his shirt tickled her armpit, as he reached around her to toss the collar
into a corner. She let her hair fall down slowly, leaning back against him.
Instinctively, he took a small step forward, completely entering her space.
“Dean.” It was barely a whisper. His gravity pulled her in, she rested against
his chest, felt his arms wrap around her and his body mold to hers. He dipped
his chin to the top of her head, surrounding her with his warmth and the smell
of safety.
“I got you.” He used his arms around her waist to pull her even closer. She
relaxed into him and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“Want you.” Caitlin reached up behind her and let her fingers run through
Dean’s short hair.
Dean froze. “What?”
“I want you. I want to take back what they took from me. I want to be with
you.” She ran her fingers over his face, then, when he didn’t move or speak,
she slowly lowered them and turned around. He loosened his hold on her enough
to allow the movement but didn’t let go. She put a hand over his heart and met
his eyes. “I trust you.”
Tensing up, Dean let go of her and stepped back. “You shouldn’t.”
Sam appeared in the doorway. “Guys, it’s getting late. We should go.”
Dean nodded and briskly turned to leave.
Caitlin caught his wrist with a soft touch. “Please?”
He pulled his hand back slowly, scowling. Then he closed his eyes briefly and
sighed wearily. “Let’s talk later, okay?”
***** Progress *****
When Dean got behind the wheel of the Leviathans’ car, he made a disgusted
sound. “If anyone doubted they were evil, just look at this. A goddamned Honda
with manual. Nefarious fuckers.”
Sam chuckled as he put on his seatbelt. “It still runs, though.” He turned
serious and reproving. “Unlike the car you wrecked, driving when you should
have called an ambulance, dude.”
Dean’s hands clenched around the wheel. Pinched lips turned to a fake pout in
record time. “There was a raccoon on the road,” came the flippant reply.
Sam snorted and leaned back. He threw a glance at Caitlin in the backseat. “You
okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” She smiled as an afterthought, there and gone again.
“Caitlin…” Dean began.
She interrupted him. “Don’t.”
Dean snapped his mouth shut again, annoyed.
Sam looked between the two of them and shrugged. If Lucifer had still been
there, he would definitely have commented on why they didn’t just fuck already.
If only it were that simple.
The motel was skeevy but cheap. Reluctantly, Dean booked a single and a double
room. Caitlin and Sam were waiting by the car. Dean’s steps slowed more and
more the closer he got.
“Did you get a room?” Sam read Dean’s reluctance easily.
“Two.” Dean cleared his throat awkwardly to cover how rough his voice sounded.
Sam’s eyebrows shot up in question.
Caitlin flitted her eyes between them, shrugged and grabbed the plastic bag
containing her few spare clothes and the photo album. “Lead the way,” she said
in a tight voice.
Standing in front of the two neighboring rooms, Dean took one look at Caitlin’s
carefully blank expression and sighed. He handed Sam the keycard to the single
room with an imperceptible shrug. Then he opened the double and sighed again.
He’d asked for a room with two queens next to a single room. What they’d gotten
was a room with a goddamned king.
The instant the door closed behind them, Caitlin crossed her arms and glared at
Dean.
He shrugged. “I asked for two queens. You can take the single room if it
bothers you.” He tossed his duffel next to the bed, turning his back to her.
“I don’t know, Dean. Do I bother you?” Her words were quiet, not angry and only
her rigid posture warned him to tread carefully.
“Of course not.” Dean made an abortive hand gesture. “Caitlin, I don’t know
what you want from me.”
“And I don’t know what you want from me.” She motioned her hand to encompass
the entire motel room.
“Nothing. I mean… I want you to be safe. I want you to have everything you
dream about. But I’m not… You don’t want me, you really don’t.”
Caitlin laughed, a cold unamused sound. “Dean I didn’t ask you to marry me. I
wanted to have sex with you.”
He glared at her, equally unamused. “That’s what I thought you did. But it’s
not… I know you.”
She stared at him, hurt and surprised. “I thought you did, yes.”
Dean opened and closed his mouth. His eyes stayed glued to hers, to her
straight nose and full lips, the soft curve of her cheekbones. “Look,” he
finally managed, frantically searching for more words. “I know about two kinds
of sex. One night stands and relationship sex. You? Said no to the one night
stand back when. And I don’t do relationships.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure there’s a fascinating explanation for
that but I don’t think it’s relevant. We’re parting ways tomorrow, remember?”
Dean froze, his eyes going wide.
“Dean, tomorrow I’ll be going with Derek. I’ll have to talk to different people
about everything that happened to me.” Her voice broke and she inhaled deeply.
“There’ll be police and lawyers and real FBI. You and Sam have to stay far
away.”
Dean looked stricken, then thoughtful, until his eyes narrowed. “No.”
“Dean…” Caitlin began, but he held up his hand.
“No. Goddammit, Caitlin, why couldn’t you just let me kill them?”
Her eyes widened in horror before she raised her voice. “My choice! It was my
choice.”
“Oh, I know.” Dean crossed his arms and glared at her. “And now things are ten
times as complicated because there’s a horde of Leviathans out there, and they
all know about you.”
Caitlin shook her head in denial.
Dean exhaled and crossed the distance between them in a few steps. He gently
put a hand on her shoulder. “I said I want you safe. Normally that means far,
far away from me but until we stop the Leviathans, you’ll be a target no matter
where you’re at. I might as well keep an eye on you.”
Caitlin narrowed her eyes as she felt the weight of his hand, the pull to
surrender. “I can take care of myself. I asked you to teach me how to deal with
real monsters and you did.”
Dean tilted his head and smirked at her. “Yeah. You’ve got a great track
record, Caitie. We’ve only had to rescue you three times in as many weeks. From
monsters, I mean. Not counting everything else.”
An angry flush came over Caitlin’s face. “Look who’s talking. Weren’t we all
nearly killed because of your one-night stand? I saved your ass from that
ghost, too, before we found its bones.” She shook his hand off and stepped even
closer, standing on her toes to come almost eye to eye with him. “Didn’t the
Leviathans have you and Sam bound and on your knees while they played their
sick games with me? Is that one of the times you saved me, Dean?” She was
yelling by now. “And what about the Djinn? Did either of you ever mention
Djinns to me before one got me?”
Dean kept his face spitefully impassive, merely clenching his jaw rhythmically.
Caitlin took a few calming breaths and backed down a few inches. “Plus,” she
added in a more normal tone of voice, ”I don’t recall you looking too hot when
you showed up yesterday. You may know an angel that can heal you in an instant
but he wasn’t around when you were actually dying! I was.”
Dean broke eye contact and bowed his head. “Yeah. Thanks.” He rubbed his neck
awkwardly. “You’re right. You’re fucking bad-ass. I hate that you’re saddled
with us for who knows how long.” He shyly looked up to see a small smile
playing at Caitlin’s mouth, and had to swallow against a dryness in his throat.
“I’m so fucking scared of losing you.”
Caitlin’s brows knitted in confusion. “You don’t want me near you but you don’t
want to lose me?”
Dean reached out to her, gently cupping her cheeks in his hands. “I don’t want
you to die. I’m not sure this world deserves you. But you deserve good things,
Caitie.” His thumbs made small circles against her skin. “It’s just that people
don’t have much in the way of life expectancy ‘round me ‘n Sam.”
Caitlin bit her lower lip and leaned into his touch. “Maybe it’s worth it.” She
gave him a lopsided smile. “Maybe the two of you are just so awesome that a
person’s quota for being around awesomeness gets spent real quick.”
“Caitlin?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut. Up.”
This time, Dean didn’t wait for Caitlin to close the final gap between them. He
pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth and shifted his hands to cradle the
back of her head.
She changed the angle until she could kiss him back, little nips and flicks of
her tongue. Her arms looped around his neck, weighing him down against her.
He reached down to cup her ass and tug at her until she wrapped her legs around
his hips and let him carry her to the bed.
Caitlin scooted further up, one arm still wrapped around Dean’s neck, pulling
him with her. For a few seconds, his full weight trapped her against the
mattress until he got up on his elbows.
He watched her shallow breaths with concern. “You okay?”
His eyes were hooded and through their clothes, she felt him harden, providing
pressure and warmth against her core. The warmth turned to heat that spread
quickly through her gut. She nodded and bit her lip. “Shouldn’t we wear fewer
clothes?”
Dean grinned and wet his lips before rolling off her and pulling her up to
straddle him the way she had back in Brad’s room earlier that same day. “You’re
right. Let’s get naked.”
Caitlin ground down on him, the friction spreading more heat inside her.
Dean reached up to unbutton the flannel she wore. He moved slowly, his touches
against her breasts anything but the coincidence he played them off as.
Caitlin’s breath hitched at the light brushes against her nipples that were
only covered with the flannel and a t-shirt. Dean smirked before moving on to
the next button, somehow accomplishing to brush over her nipples again as he
popped it open.
Caitlin almost held her breath as Dean finished unbuttoning her flannel. He
pushed it off her shoulders, his every move still slow and gentle, his eyes
watching her expression with rapt attention. As the shirt slid down her arms
she hurriedly pulled her hands free, turning it inside out.
She leaned forward and slid her hands under Dean’s shirt, gliding over the soft
skin on his stomach. Below his ribs on his right side, she felt the uneven
roughness of one of his scars and traced it with her index finger. She kept her
touch light and gripped him tighter with her legs in anticipation. She sighed
disappointedly when he didn’t squirm. “Not ticklish?”
Dean grimaced. “Not anymore.”
Her smile fell and she pushed her hands down and under him, pulling him up
toward her.
Dean groaned in mock annoyance at the exertion as he sat up halfway and met her
lips. She opened her mouth to him hungrily and pushed his already unbuttoned
shirt over his shoulders. He held out first his right, then his left hand for
her to pull the shirt completely off him. She drew back from the kiss to
comply, then grabbed the hem of his t-shirt. He raised his arms and let her
pull it over his head as he relaxed back onto the bed.
She attacked the button on his jeans and he caught her wrists. “Your turn,
Caitie.”
Unable to meet his eyes, she shrugged out of her t-shirt and fought the
instinct to cover her bare breasts.
Dean felt her tremble lightly and ran his hands up and down her arms and
shoulders. “It’s okay. You’re in control, Caitie. We’re doing what you want,
remember?” When she didn’t react to his words, he sat up again and hugged her
tightly to him. “You say stop, I stop,” he murmured in her ear.
She drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Don’t stop.” She ran her fingers through his
short hair and cradled his head. “I’m in control. I want this.” It was barely
more than a whisper. She hugged him closer until his nose touched her
collarbone.
Dean nuzzled his nose against her and rubbed her back. He pressed his lips to
her skin in a closed mouth kiss, then another, patiently working his way toward
a hardened nipple.
Caitlin gasped when Dean’s lips closed around the sensitive nub, his tongue
laving over it repeatedly before he sucked it gently. “I want this,” she
repeated with more confidence. “I want you, Dean.”
His reply was turning his soothing hands on her back into a tight hold on her
hips, pushing her down against his hard-on and making a hungry humming noise
that vibrated around the soft flesh in his mouth.
“Still too much clothing,” Caitlin mumbled in his ear, suddenly too hot despite
the slightly cool air around her naked torso.
Sucking hard one last time, he regretfully drew back letting her feel just a
hint of his teeth. He smiled at the way she arched into the sensation with a
little whimper sounding halfway wanting and halfway disappointed. “I’ll get
right on it.” He pushed her sideways down on the bed next to him before
standing and shucking off his pants and socks. Then he gave her a pointed look
and waited, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his boxers.
Caitlin stared at the outline of Dean’s erection, mesmerized. It took a little
while for her to notice that he had stopped moving. She tore her gaze from his
crotch to find him watching her with a little, self-satisfied smirk. There was
a sparkle of warmth and acceptance in his eyes that set off a rush of
butterflies low in her stomach. This. God, I hope I don’t freak out. She closed
her eyes shortly, before getting off the bed to stand in front of him.
She stood close enough to graze Dean’s thighs with her knuckles as she loosened
the waistband on the sweatpants she wore without breaking eye contact. The too
big pants fell to the ground and the two small steps it took her to get out of
them completely, brought her flush against him. She gently pushed his hands
away and pushed down his boxers herself, kneeling down in time with their
descent.
Dean’s cock sprang free right in front of her face. For a fraction of a second,
she was back in the shabby living room, Cody’s hands pulling her hair. Dean
muttered a throaty curse and kept his hands on his back. Apart from his ragged
breathing, he stood perfectly still. I’m in control.
Caitlin ran her hands over his thighs, over the still red and irritated skin
where he must have removed her stitches himself. There were so many other
scars. Words from earlier that day echoed in her mind. The almost bashful
expression he had worn as he explained why they knew an angel. “Cas showed up
for the apocalypse.” Then, at her horrified expression he had hurried to say,
“We stopped it.” They had been interrupted right after that.
Kneeling before Dean, tracing the marks of his violent life a strange reverence
came over her. Dean might brag about his pool hustling skills or his car but he
would probably never talk about how he and Sam (and an angel, possibly) saved
the world.
She tore her eyes from what remained of the gash she had stitched weeks ago and
followed his happy trail up to his navel, further raising her gaze to trace the
black circular tattoo above his heart, before meeting his eyes. He wore that
same shy expression she had recalled only seconds ago as if he had guessed what
she was thinking about.
The corners of Caitlin’s mouth curved upward in a small smile. Dean’s mouth
fell open, his breathing still fast. She felt the carpeted floor under her
knees, could smell sweat, precome and a hint of the pine soap he must have used
before they left … there.
Dean’s tongue slipped out to wet his lips. He drew in a breath as if to say
something, then he exhaled instead. Somewhere, a clock was ticking away the
seconds and the silent, frozen tableau they made stayed the same.
Dean fought the urge to squirm under her watchful gaze. She looked at him with
something akin to admiration, worship. The way Sam used to look at him when
they were just little boys and the four year age difference made Dean a
superhero. No one should look at him like that.
He hissed with surprise when she finally, finally put a hand on his cock, her
fingers closing gently, too gently around it. He answered the unspoken question
in her eyes with a nod. I’m good. This is good. He closed his eyes to simply
feel.
Caitlin felt Dean relax into her touch as he closed his eyes. She stroked his
cock, her fingertips gliding over the smooth, hot skin. She squeezed the hard
flesh a little - still nowhere near as hard as Dean undoubtedly longed for her
to do - and felt him twitch in her hand. She blew air on his cock head and
grinned when Dean shuddered, head to toe.
Inhaling deeply, she leaned in the final few inches, her heart suddenly
hammering inside her chest. She touched her lips to Dean’s silky glans in a
light, quick kiss. She looked up again to see him bite his lower lip, eyes
tightly shut. She waited breathlessly, the clock ticking several seconds away.
Dean didn’t move, didn’t even change his expression.
She licked tentatively over his slit. Dean made a startled groan ending in a
somewhat frustrated growl when she hurriedly backed away, even removing her
hand.
Dean reached down to take her hand in his. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” But
fuck, she’d been kneeling in front of him and it’d been like in the dream, no,
nightmare. He had made himself stand still but all he could think about was
grabbing her and make her stop teasing. She wasn’t teasing me, she was scared.
Fuck, what am I doing?
Caitlin pushed herself off the floor when Dean tugged at her a second time. He
made her sit at the edge of the bed, plopping himself down right next to her,
an arm reaching around to pull her against his side. This isn’t about me. Suck
it up, D-dog.
“We could just sleep and…”Dean rubbed her arm and fought to get the next words
out. “You know… cuddle.”
She huffed a short laugh at his ability to make the word ‘cuddle’ sound dirty
and wrong. “I’m not chickening out. Are you chickening out?”
“No. Hell no. Not even sure I could stomach cuddling but anything for you,
Caitie.”
***** Epiphany *****
Chapter Notes
     This is it. This is the chapter I wrote over a year ago. This is
     where I've been leading the story all this time. This is what I want
     you to see. It is important.
     You already know that this story deals with the trauma of sexual
     abuse and rape. Maybe you know someone who's been through some shit.
     Maybe you have been through some shit. Maybe you've mostly forgotten.
     This chapter will be tough to read. Make sure you're well rested.
     Make sure there's someone you feel safe to confide in that are
     available to talk to if you need it after you've read it. But read
     it. Please. It may not apply to you but if it does... this might
     alter your perspective on some things.
Dean gave her a devil-may-care smile but a muscle ticked in his jaw. Still, his
hands were gentle, coaxing and calming, as he nudged her to stand while he
threw open the covers before guiding her to lie down on the bed proper.
He draped himself over her, his skin against her skin chest to calves. Resting
his weight mostly on his knees and elbows, he framed her face with his hands
and dove in for a sweet, soft kiss.
Caitlin felt warmth flush through her at the closeness, the intimacy. She
opened her mouth to Dean, to the soothing, gentle movements of his lips and
tongue. Inside, she let him inside of her, his tongue in her mouth, his regard
for her warming up her heart, his voice an anchor to reality. Inside. Soon, he
would be.
Dean’s hands stroked her sides lightly as he moved on from her mouth and
pressed tickling and feather light kisses against her cheeks, jaw, forehead,
and eyelids. The tender touches were innocent, unhurried vows of dedication to
her pleasure, to her safety in his arms. Yet, every caress created a flash in
her mind.
Every time his fingers ran across her body, so careful and almost reverent, the
ghosts of earlier touches, far less pleasant, followed. The constant overlay
made her feel like she would go crazy if this kept going any longer, and she
pushed Dean away.
He moved obligingly, pity painting his features. After a few deep breaths, he
gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “Cuddles, then?”
Caitlin rolled to her side, curling her knees up high until she almost lay in
the fetal position. She reached out to clasp one of Dean’s hands. “I hate this.
I want to have sex with you but I can’t. Just can’t. I’m tainted.”
Dean brought her hand to his lips, kissing every single one of her knuckles.
The clock ticked loudly in the silence between them. Finally, he settled their
hands back on the mattress. “They had no right to do what they did to you, to
put you through all those things.” He tightened his hand around hers. “I want
to… to fix things so badly, to undo it. But, Caitie, you gotta know… I’m in the
dark here. I don’t know how to help you.”
Caitlin felt the press of tears and squeezed his hand back. “It doesn’t matter
that you’re perfect. I mean, you do everything just right...” She felt her
cheeks heat up and clamped her mouth shut. Did I just tell him he’s perfect? Is
there cheese in my mouth? Do I taste cheese?
Dean pursed his lips in thought. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do.
Anything you need. I’ll do anything.”
A whimper escaped Caitlin along with a few tears. Angrily, she wiped them off
with her free hand. “There’s nothing… I don’t… It’s like, my body won’t accept
it. Like I’m being torn apart by the difference between then and now.”
Dean frowned. “By the difference? Fuck, Caitie, what did those assholes do to
you?”
Caitlin took a couple of deep breaths to compose herself. “Whatever they
wanted, Dean. They never gave me a choice. All I could do was survive, get
through it, somehow, and hope for something to change.”
Realization made her suck in air in a hiss. Taking away the choice knowingly,
giving herself over to him, letting him take whatever he wanted only because
she had asked him to; she felt dizzy at the thought, heat burning low in her
stomach, wetness between her thighs. It might work. It might. But she couldn’t
ask that of Dean.
Dean watched her eyes widen, her chest heave. Watched her eyes darken and the
way she pressed her legs together. Then her mouth clamped shut and her eyes
went back to staring into nothing hopelessly. “No.” He let go of her hand to
grab her face, keep her eyes on him. “Don’t shut down on me. What did you just
think about?”
Caitlin tried to look away, fought his grip. When he didn’t budge, another
flare of heat rushed through her. “I… can’t go through with this. But, Dean, I
want it so bad. It’s like there’s a wall I have to burst through and I’m not
strong enough. I need… I need someone to pull me through.”
Dean cleared his throat but still found his voice thick when he spoke. “Maybe
you’re not ready. Why don’t you give it a few months?”
Caitlin inhaled sharply, anger flashing in her eyes. Then, surprisingly, she
shut down again. She closed her eyes, pushed his hands away and turned her back
to him and pulled the cover all the way up to her ear. Her breathing was
deceptively regular but for the occasional hitch.
Sighing, Dean plastered himself to her back and hugged her tight to him. “Talk
to me, Caitie. You’re upset. Why?” He mumbled the words into her hair and
continued to press light kisses into the curly strands.
The clock ticked away the silence until Caitlin drew in a shuddering breath.
“It’s fine, Dean. Just disappointed.” She shook in his arms as she exhaled,
little tremors still running through her as the silence returned. Tick. Tick.
“It’s more than that.” He felt her stiffen, open her mouth to say something. He
didn’t give her time. “If you were disappointed, you’d still look at me. You’re
upset and you’re trying to hide it.” Dean pulled on her shoulder, urging her to
face him. “Caitlin, you told me you trusted me. Then trust me.”
She lay frozen next to him, muscles so tense they burned, while his words tore
through her defenses. He pulled again and she gave in, rolling onto her back
and covering her eyes with a hand. “I’ll never be ready. Tonight or next month
or next year, without a push, I’ll balk.”
“What exactly do you mean when you say a push?” The words came out strained,
because suddenly, Dean smelled sulfur, felt the heat of hellfire around him
that no longer burnt his skin, felt the reassuring, encouraging weight of
Alastair’s hand resting at the nape of his neck. Did I leave? Did the last four
years happen?
“A push past that scared little bitch in my mind that keeps screaming no when
all I want is to say yes.” Caitlin sighed as she felt Dean tense up and draw
back, away from her. “I do trust you, I trust you enough that I wish you’d do
that to me, that you’d just… take away my choice because I ask you to. Tell
me,” she whispered, finally uncovering her eyes and turning to him, taking in
his wide eyes, flaring nostrils, how he swallowed repeatedly, “how could I ask
that of you?”
Dean closed his eyes, kept swallowing back bile until it stayed down. It’s not
about me. “Didn’t I say anything, Caitie?” He almost smiled at the way she
blinked in surprise but there was nothing funny about the situation. She held
his gaze unblinkingly as if looking for something. Whether she found it or not,
he couldn’t tell. The silence grew again.
“So,” Dean finally broke under the tension. “You want me to force you to have
sex? That’s what you’re talking about, right?” When she didn’t answer, he
sighed. “I’m not really into that kinda stuff but I have been beyond vanilla
before. If we do this, we do it right. You’re gonna tell me exactly what you
expect from me or it ain’t happening.”
Caitlin watched Dean’s jaw clench while he waited for her to respond. “Jeez,
Dean, I don’t know. I thought you’d be relieved to just let your dick take over
and do whatever instead of all the touchy feely crap you hate so much. But hey,
if you’re not into that, maybe we should just cuddle and you can braid my hair
and tell me all about stopping the apocalypse.”
“What the fuck, Caitie? I mean, sure, maybe I should be more enthusiastic about
play-pretend raping someone who’s been through enough already, but the
apocalypse? Where the hell did that come from?” He was so angry, not about her
question, not really. No, it was about the memories, about the things he did in
Hell, about the things he’d dreamed about doing to her, the things she seemed
to want from him. Not about me, not about me. Shit.
Caitlin deflated, anger gone even faster than it flared. “I’m sorry. I kept
thinking about what you said about the apocalypse, earlier. I was wondering
what happened. I get that you don’t want to talk about it. I shouldn’t have
mentioned it.” She reached around him to draw figure-eights on his back. He was
still tense, angry. “I don’t know why I snapped at you. It was unfair of me.”
Dean made a noncommittal grunt, fighting to keep himself under control, Hell so
very close to the surface. He pushed the images, the sensory memories, the
hunger, all of it away. “Will you… will you be fighting me?”
Caitlin shook her head no. “I’ll probably cry,” she whispered, and her eyes
were already wet with unshed tears.
“Okay,” he said, pulling her to him in a crushing hug. “Okay. But I won’t hurt
you and if you tell me to stop, I will stop. Remember that.” She nodded against
his neck and simply clung to him for a while.
He lifted her leg over his hip and slid his hand between her legs. Caitlin felt
her breath hitch, it was like her whole body simply stopped functioning for a
second. Dean was still gentle, still moving slowly, taking his time.
Then he was sliding a finger inside of her, where only they had been before,
and it felt good. She trembled in his arms, tear after tear escaping her closed
eyes. So good. No. No, no, no, no. She pushed at his chest, clawed at his
wrist.
Dean shushed her, murmured sweet nothings at her and relentlessly pressed and
rubbed his finger inside of her.
Heat spread through her veins, thawing out sensations long forgotten. She
scrambled to get away from the intensity but Dean didn’t budge. She opened her
eyes to beg him to let go and was shocked to see tear streaking down his
cheeks. Regardless, he kept fingering her, flicking his thumb over her clit.
The flare of want-need-just-take-me that shot through her felt so good, so
wrong, so familiar. It felt… like it always had.
“That’s right, sweetheart, you take it so good. Don’t know why you keep
complaining, you love what I’m doing to you.” “Stop crying, little sis, you
like it too.” “Such a good little whore for us, love fucking all of us so much,
don’t you sweetheart? Don’t you?”
Caitlin felt a scream of horror claw its way out of her throat.
Dean stilled his movements but didn’t remove his hand. “Not stopping unless you
tell me to. I’m doing what you asked me to do.” His voice was gravelly but his
grip held firm.
“Stop. I can’t let you... You shouldn’t. I’m… Just stop, Dean, stop, please,
stop.”
For half a second, his grip tightened and Caitlin half thought he wouldn’t
listen. Arousal flooded her and a moan escaped her. Part of her definitely
didn’t want him to listen. He did, though. Just as she realized she didn’t want
him to, he did.
The instant his hands were gone, she rolled away from him, jumped off the bed
and began collecting her scattered clothes.
“What is it?” she heard him ask, but she ignored him. She needed to get away
from him, she needed to stay away from him and everybody else, she needed to be
alone. Forever.
Then a hand grabbed her arm, and she wrenched herself free before he could spin
her around to face him. She could never look him in the eyes again. She pulled
her panties on, not caring that they were turned inside out. Fumbled with her
jeans for an eternity before stepping into first one leg, then the other.
“Caitlin, STOP! You gotta talk to me.”
“Please, just forget you ever met me,” she told him without looking anywhere
but for her bra.
He came to stand in front of her, reached for her shoulders in slow motion, let
his hands rest there, softly. “I could never forget you.” His voice was low and
thick with emotion.
She kept staring at her feet, their feet, not wanting to see the sad look on
his face. “I can make you want to,” she declared. “If I told you, you would
hate me.”
“Told me what, Caitlin?” Dean wanted to tell her that he could never hate her,
but he had a feeling she wouldn’t listen.
“I liked it,” she almost screamed at him. “Everything they did to me, I liked
it. Even if I didn’t want them to, even when I begged them to let me be,
whenever they took me, I fucking liked it!” Caitlin sobbed uncontrollably, her
hands in front of her face.
Dean carefully gathered her in, rested her head against his naked shoulder. He
felt her stiffen but she let him. Thankfully, she let him, and he couldn’t help
a small sigh of relief.
“It only makes me hate them more,” he stated calmly, holding her close. “What
do you do when you stub a toe?” He felt her go still in surprise.
“Wh… What?” She actually looked up at him, and he smiled at her reassuringly.
“When you stub a toe, you yell and curse, because it hurts. You can’t decide to
not feel the pain just because you didn’t wanna get hurt, right?” Dean almost
burst out laughing at her "duh" face, and she even smiled back a little through
her tears. “When someone touches you, your body reacts. It can’t tell the
difference between rape and sex, only your mind can. But just like your mind
can’t make pain disappear, it can’t stop your body from reacting to touch.” He
leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “It doesn’t matter that part of you
enjoyed it, it’s still not your fault, and you didn’t deserve it.” He gave her
a heated look. “And I still want you, if you ever want to try this again with
me.”
Caitlin stared at him. The enormity of what he had just said, the weight of
shame and guilt she had somehow carried all these years starting to lift, left
her dizzy.
“I… I think I’d like to just sleep now,” she murmured, before going almost limp
in his arms. Dean lifted her carefully back into the bed and dragged her jeans
off of her again, before throwing the covers over her and climbing in beside
her. He snuck his arm under her head and closed his eyes, content to feel her
breathing slow down and deepen against his skin, while the clock ticked the
seconds onward.
***** Interception Part 1 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm posting this chapter in two parts.
     This part is DARK and TRIGGERING.
     It's a little exposition and character background and then one plot
     revolving event.
     I will recap everything you need to know at the beginning of the next
     part of the chapter, so you DON'T have to read this!!!
     Contains another dose of hell. Graphic depiction of rape of the male/
     male variety. Psychological torture.
     You have been warned.
The inevitable nightmare began as soon as Dean slipped into sleep. It shouldn’t
have come as a surprise, not after the events with Caitlin, that it was the day
he said yes.
Alastair’s hands had been strangely gentle, had placed soothing touches all
over his completely whole, unharmed body. Instead of being split open by the
implement of the hour, hellhound cock, or just demon cock after demon cock, the
way things usually went when flavor of the day was rape, Alastair had fingered
him open, used some sort of lotion as lube that turned his ass super sensitive
but didn’t hurt.
For the first time in three decades, he had felt pleasure instead of pain.
Never had he hated himself more than when his own cock rose at a demon’s foul
touch. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop the rhythmic stabs at his prostate as
Alastair fucked into him, couldn’t stop himself fucking keening from the
stimulation. Couldn’t stop himself shooting off like a loose cannon the second
Alastair closed a hand around his cock.
Couldn’t stop the guilt, shame, self-loathing that flooded him until tears ran
freely down his face at Alastair’s taunting words.
“Such a cock hungry slut, aren’t you Dean. Coming so hard from being fucked by
a demon.”
Though Dean was whimpering now, each of Alastair’s thrusts too much, too good,
too hard, Alastair never changed the rhythm, never eased up. Not that Dean had
been expecting him to. No mercy, no reprieve, no unconsciousness, no death.
Alastair’s words never stopped, either. “Got this all on tape, Dean. Preserved
your horny, needy sounds for fucking ever. Gonna show them to everyone who ever
cared about you, everyone whose opinion matters to you.” He fucked into Dean
harder and it hurt, fuck it hurt, but it was still good.
Dean sobbed as he felt himself harden again. Sobbed at Alastair’s words. “What
do you think your precious little brother will think of you when he sees this,
mmh?” Alastair grabbed Dean by the hair and pulled his head up. “Open your
eyes, slut.”
Dean tried to resist, squeezed his eyes shut but it didn’t matter. Alastair
slapped Dean’s ass hard enough to elicit a broken scream from his mouth. “Open
your eyes.”
Yanking Dean’s head up further, landing blow after blow on his ass cheeks,
constantly pounding his cock into him, Alastair began to laugh. “Resist all you
want, Dean. More fun for me. But this won’t be over until you OPEN. YOUR.
EYES.”
His own cock throbbing, aching for another release, his entire sensory system
on overdrive, Dean capitulated. He opened his eyes. He wanted to scream but
couldn’t get his lungs to work. A reflection of himself impaled by Alastair,
hard and aching, unrestrained. Willingly submitting. I’m not, I don’t want
this. I can’t stop it.
Before he could close his eyes again, commands be damned, Alastair groaned and
stilled. Burning, acidic pain erupted deep inside him. Instead of screaming in
agony, however, Dean came harder than he ever had before, watching himself as
he did, mortified.
“You can stop this anytime you want, Dean. You know how. Guess you just enjoy
the pain too much,” Alastair said mockingly. “Can’t wait to show this to your
Uncle Bobby. He probably needs something new in the spank bank anyway.”
Alastair’s voice never lost it’s slithery, snakelike quality. His cock was
still buried deep, keeping the burning liquid from escaping. “I got a reaper on
the payroll that might be willing to take a copy to your old man upstairs.
That’d give him something to laugh about, don’t you think?”
“Stop!” Dean cried, couldn’t stand it a second longer. “Stop, for fucks sake,
Alastair. I’ll do what you want, I’ll do anything. Just don’t ever tell anyone.
Stop, please.”
Alastair stood frozen in ecstasy, coming a second time without even moving.
“Fuck, you beg so prettily, pet. That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever
heard.” The words were whispered in a reverent tone, while Dean fought and
gasped through the pain inside. Then Alastair pulled out at last, snapped his
fingers and all physical pain was gone.
Dean was pulled into a warm hug and when he tried to push away, Alastair tutted
at him. “There now, pet. You said you’d do anything and right now I say your
place is here. If you disobey me, I’ll be happy to carry out my other plans.”
Dean cried again as if he hadn’t forfeited his soul when he traded his life for
Sam’s, but in this moment, when he allowed Alastair to hold him, stroke his
hair, and murmur praising words like “good pet, so pretty, all broken and
beautiful,” at him.
The scenery changed, as it tends to do in dreams, and Dean found himself in
front of the racks, beloved bull whip, symbol of the control he had regained,
in hand. Strung up before him hung Caitlin, a whimpering mess of bleeding
wounds. He looked between her and the whip in his hand, his erect cock
straining against denim.
Dean’s legs gave out under him and his knees hit the ground hard. A part of him
remembered this, remembered that day: It shouldn’t be Caitlin on the rack; it
was a stranger, a woman he didn’t know.
His short-lived rebellion happened after Alastair’s slick voice informed him
that his present “customer” had sold her soul for her cancer sick daughter.
Just like he had been then, he was on hands and knees, retching. Just like he
had then, he got to his feet shakily and turned to Alastair, all righteous
defiance.
“I’m done. Never again, Alastair. Put me back up there, I don’t care.” Why had
Alastair simply laughing at him been a surprise?
“Dean, Dean, Dean. We both know you don’t mean that. Do I need to remind you
why you do what I tell you? Why you do it so well?”
Dean didn’t need to be reminded. Back then, Alastair had reminded him, plenty,
until Dean had folded under the shame once again. He opened his mouth to speak
the truth he had covertly gathered for himself after Cas pulled him out,
sleepless nights scouring the vast resources of the Internet for knowledge.
Always so careful to delete the browser history, lest Sam might find the
searches on “torture psychology” “rape survivor recovery” and “PTSD.”
“You set me up, Alastair. The only thing that’s wrong with me is that I let you
turn me into this.” He gestured at the whip on the ground, the rack behind him.
Alastair scowled. He put a hand around Dean’s throat, lifted him off the ground
and squeezed. “Very funny, Dean. You’re the finest student I’ve ever had and
you’re not even halfway to earning your black eyes yet. What you’ve achieved as
a mere human is absolutely stunning. You can’t turn your back on that.”
Dean fought for breath, fought the horror of what he had done just to preserve
his own dignity, fought the temptation to give in, become the monster so many
had taken him for, even before this happened. Mostly, he fought for air. When
was Hell ever this cold?
Caitlin woke, a strange sense of peace inside her. She lay with her eyes
closed, smiling blissfully waiting for whatever woke her up to finish the job.
She felt the warmth of Dean next to her and snuggled closer to him.
Dean made strange noise from deep in his throat that had Caitlin’s hackles
raised instantly. It barely sounded human, more like something to come from a
mortally wounded animal. She reached for the bedside lamp and blinked at the
sudden light. Dean lay perfectly still but for the sickening keening.
Remembering the last time Dean had a nightmare, Caitlin eased off the cover and
glanced down. Despite Dean sounding like he was dying, one part of him was up
and partying. While Caitlin watched, unsure of what to do, the sounds turned to
whimpers and unintelligible pleading. Just as she couldn’t take it any longer
and reached out to rouse him, Dean blew his load.
Exhaling with relief, she waited for his eyes to pop open like the last time.
Instead, the whimpers and pleading continued. By now, enough words were audible
that she put it together; she guessed what was happening to him in his
nightmare and why he had known just what to say to her, earlier.
She shook him violently, then, begged him to wake up. He showed no signs of
heeding her, lost in his own mind. He stopped breathing, broken, strangled
noises escaping his throat, but not enough air. She was weeping, relentlessly
fighting to rouse him, when ice cold fingers wrapped around her shoulder and
pulled her away.
Startled but already driven beyond shock, she turned to see an older man, gray
beard, baseball cap, and light gray eyes, standing there. The colors on him
looked kind of washed out and he was semi-transparent. A ghost. Was he the one
hurting Dean? The second the thought crossed her mind, the man shook his head
gently.
“Lemme help him,” the specter said. He had kind eyes and was looking at Dean
compassionately.
“How?”
“I’ll do for him what he once did for me. I’ll enter the dream, drag him out.”
“Is he… is his life in danger?”
“You’re the doctor, you tell me.” The man gave her a wry smile and stretched
out his hand as if to shake. Thinking better of it, he let it fall back to his
side. “I’m Bobby.”
Caitlin had heard the brothers talking about their “Uncle Bobby” often enough.
She nodded and moved back to indicate that she was onboard with his plan.
He nodded back and touched a hand to Dean’s forehead. He shimmered and
disappeared.
Objectively speaking, Dean should be more worried about the lack of oxygen but
hanging limply from Alastair’s grip, he was shivering with cold. In the hazy
distance of the four-dimensional chaos of Hell, a figure materialized, striding
purposely toward them.
As the figure passed Caitlin’s limp form, the cap caught the light. Not knowing
how he managed against the pressure around his throat, Dean croaked: “Bobby?”
“Yeah, Son. You’re having a nightmare. Let’s wake up, shall we?”
Alastair turned to snarl at Bobby, who looked thoroughly unamused. “Git,” he
said and threw a single punch at the demon.
Just a nightmare. Dean opened his eyes.
Caitlin hovered beside him, obviously upset.
A flickering next to the bed caught his attention and he turned to look into
Bobby’s eyes. Bobby looked as stoic as ever but a grim smile hovered on his
lips. He nodded slowly at Dean, his eyes warmer than the cold radiating from
him. Then he flickered again and vanished.
Dean groaned and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I’m not
ready to deal with this.”
Caitlin stroked his hair. “Then get some more sleep.”
“You’re not gonna ask me about this?” He removed his hands at stared her in
astonishment.
“You had a nightmare. Your uncle Bobby showed up. I guess he really was around,
after all.”
Dean grabbed her head and pulled her down for a grateful kiss. “Alright,
smartypants,” he said when they paused for breath. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Dean.” She smiled at him, burrowed in close and rested a hand over
his heart.
Turning slightly, he wrapped both arms around her and nuzzled the top of her
head. Her hair tickled his nose and he sneezed, before sighing contentedly and
closing his eyes.
Caitlin lay awake for hours, confused about the many facets of the mystery
named Dean Winchester, nervous about what the next day would bring, and finding
a new understanding her own life story thanks to Dean’s insight.
***** Interception - Part II *****
Chapter Notes
     I promised a recap of part I for those who didn't want to read it.
     Dean had a nightmare about his time in hell and the day he finally
     said yes to Alastair. There were parallels to Caitlin's discovery
     about her own repressed memories in chapter 49. In the dream,
     Alastair got angry when Dean wouldn't obey him and choked him.
     Caitlin was awake and worried and couldn't wake him. Bobby showed up,
     introduced himself to Caitlin and jumped into Dean's nightmare and
     woke him up. Bobby "left" again and Dean and Caitlin went back to
     sleep.
Half past six, Sam banged on the door. “Guys, wake up. Something’s come up.”
Dean extricated himself from Caitlin who seemed unable to return to
consciousness. He glanced down over himself. Yep. Something’s up, alright.
“Hold on, Sammy, I’ll be right out.” He began the hunt for clothes.
Twenty minutes later, the three of them were cramped in Sam’s room, eyes glued
to the laptop screen, where an enthusiastic redhead was busy supposedly hacking
Frank’s hard drive.
“Well, fuck.” Dean ran a hand through his already sleep-mussed hair.
“Charlie Bradbury.” Sam pointed to a nameplate over the desk, barely visible in
the pixelated video feed.
Dean fished his phone out of his pocket and searched. “I’ve got an address.”
“How far?”
Dean tapped some more and his face fell. “Thirteen hours.”
Sam exhaled slowly, rubbing his forehead. “This was yesterday afternoon. We
need to get to her before she gets back to Roman Enterprise.” Sam looked at the
laptop clock and mentally subtracted on hour due to time zones. “We’ve got
about two hours, depending on how early she leaves for work.”
Glum silence filled the room as minutes ticked by. Caitlin rubbed her arms
against the morning chill.
“Why dontcha call the angel, ya idgits.”
Sam’s head whipped around as he stared wide-eyed at the apparition. “Bobby?”
“In the flesh, Son. Or… ya know.” Bobby flashed a wry smile.
Dean went outside to pray.
Meanwhile, Sam stayed in a state of shell shock over Bobby’s sudden appearance
and closely followed disappearance.
Caitlin went back to the room she and Dean had shared to pack her things. She
wandered around aimlessly, picking up items and putting them back down, laying
stuff in neat piles on the bed only to jumble the piles into a giant heap
minutes later. Her stomach growled angrily but the thought of food made her
want to throw up. Seven hours until Derek Morgan and his team arrived.
There was a knock on the door, and Dean entered briskly, mouth open to speak.
He glanced around and frowned. “Redecorating?”
“No. No, just… packing.”
Dean’s eyebrows shot up as he took in the mess on the bed. “Right. Well. Good.”
He watched her flounder around in unacknowledged confusion some more. Stepping
forward to block her path, he pulled her close. “Don’t know where your head’s
at, Caitie, but I need you here right now. Can you come back to me?”
Drawing in a shuddering breath, Caitlin relaxed into his embrace. The sound of
his voice, his scent, brought colors back to the world. “Dean.”
He stroked her hair and held her, temporarily forgetting everything else.
“Did you figure something out?” She had her arms around him, hands fisted in
his flannel.
Dean almost jolted as the realities of the situation came back to him. “Yeah.
Yeah, I came to tell you. Cas is gonna zap us to Alabama, then come back here
and stay with you.”
Caitlin nodded her understanding but didn’t let go of him.
“He’s, um, he’s waiting for me.” Dean reluctantly took a step back, forcing her
to loosen her grip. “We’re just going to find out if this Charlie is a big
mouth or a human and persuade her to keep whatever info she might have found to
herself one way or another.” He reached out and held her face in gentle hands,
thumbs caressing her cheeks. “We’ll be back before you know it.” He leaned in
to press a chaste kiss to her lips.
She closed her eyes, wanted to keep them closed so she couldn’t see him leave.
Keep them closed until he came back.
But he didn’t move away, his breath ghosting over her face, his rough palms
warm against her cheeks. “Caitlin, look at me. You’ll be fine.”
She looked at him, compelled by the gravel in his voice. Despite the
reassurance of his words, his eyes were asking her for confirmation. She braved
a smile. “I will. I’m so nervous right now, I can’t even worry about the
Charlie-thing. It’ll be better once I get this afternoon over and done with.”
“Good.” He leaned in for another, longer kiss.
The door burst open to reveal Castiel, immediately looking contrite. “I’m
sorry. I forgot about doorknobs.”
“Right,” Dean sighed, mouth quirking slightly upward. “Next on solid objects
for dummies: Knocking before forgetting about doorknobs.”
Castiel raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. “I thought you and Sam were in a
hurry, Dean.”
Dean’s eyes fell to the floor. “You’re right. Let’s get this show on the road.”
He trailed a hand down Caitlin’s arm and squeezed her hand with a humorless
smile. “Stay safe, Caitie.” He walked out the door.
Castiel stood on the spot for a few seconds before trailing after Dean,
muttering: “What show? What road?”
Caitlin softly stepped over to close the door after them. “You too, Dean,” she
whispered into the silence.
                                     XOXOX
Charlie sat in front of her computer, chewing her nails. The only time she had
left her chair since she cracked the hard drive her boss had trusted her to
retrieve the data from, had been to avoid pissing her pants literally. After
all, metaphorically, they were already wet and smelly.
She shouldn’t believe what was on that hard drive. Logic and reason dictated
that she write off this Devereaux dude as a conspiracy theory nutcase. Occam's
razor and all that.
Except. Why would her boss ask her to extract this information as a matter of
utmost importance, if it was all mad ravings?
Except. Several of her co-workers had been “off” in the past few months.
Except. Soap dispensers in the restrooms at work used to be empty at least
twice every week. Juan still worked there, the lazy ass janitor, and as far as
she knew nothing anyone had ever said to him had made him change his routine of
only refilling them too late. So why had they not been empty even once for six
weeks?
She shot up from her chair to find everything boraxy she owned. She managed two
steps before her path was blocked by three men. One second she had a clear view
of the doorway to the kitchen, the next they were standing there, three stooges
with somber looks.
She stumbled back, grasping for something, anything, to use as a weapon. She
got hold of her Glamdring copy and fervently hoped that she’d been lucky with
the quality of a low-cost geekaphernalia, for once. Please, God. Just this
once.
She held the sword protectively in front of her. “Stop.” Maybe that was a bit
redundant as none of them had as much as twitched. “I had funions for dinner,
I’ll taste horrible. You’ll probably get sick.”
The dude in the middle squinted at her and the tallest raised his hands
disarmingly.
“We’re not Leviathans.” He gave her a look of earnest sincerity combined with a
built in puppy-in-a-shelter vibe that had Charlie’s hands shaking.
“That’s exactly what one of them would say,” she managed, adjusting her grip.
“You’ve read Frank’s research? They’re allergic to soap. You can test us.”
                                     XOXOX
Cas showed up again shortly after leaving with Dean. He didn’t bother with the
door, opting to appear in the one chair in a corner of the room.
Caitlin had been pacing, still under the pretense of packing, cleaning up,
being useful. She had once again slipped into a strange no man's land where
nothing seemed real. The way she didn’t startle or feel her head spin at the
angel’s arrival, was disturbing.
“Charlie is a human. She believed us. She will not give Roman any information.”
“That’s good news.” Caitlin smiled at the angel, who seemed as stoic and
immovable as ever.
“I will remain by your side until they ask me to bring them back here.” Cas’
intense eyes bore into hers as if his words had a deeper meaning.
If they did, it was lost on Caitlin.
Castiel said nothing more, simply sat stiff-backed on the chair and stared out
the window where a sparrow collected twigs and straw for its nest.
Caitlin kept sneaking glances at the angel. An angel. He had healed Dean
completely, no wounds left, no longer hypovolemic. He kept teleporting left and
right. Angels were real. God. What did that mean? Why did things like the
Mitchells happen to anyone? Why did they happen to Caitlin? If God and angels
were real, what had she done to be punished so badly?
Castiel turned towards her, expression serious. "My Father does not believe in
micromanaging. You were not being punished. You were simply unfortunate."
Caitlin stared at him. "You read minds?"
"No. Normally I can only hear prayers. But you were thinking extremely loudly."
Caitlin couldn't help a snort. "That's reading minds by my definition."
"You were projecting your thoughts at me, wanting answers."
Caitlin figured he was right. It didn't make her feel any better about any of
it. So many out there believed, prayed, and thought angels were these amazing
creatures that helped and watched over people. Apparently, the joke was on
them, even though angels existed.
"Castiel?" She didn't know how to ask or if she even wanted the answer, but she
continued. "If angels don't look after humans, then why are you here?"
Cas glanced at her only for a fraction of a second. He clenched his fists and
looked out the window again. "I was responsible for getting Dean out of hell
during the beginning of the end," he finally mumbled.
Well. Not thinking about FBI now. “I… Hell? Dean was in hell?”
Cas looked at her again. “Did you not know this?”
Mutely, Caitlin shook her head.
Cas sunk his head in his hands.”I can’t do anything right,” he groaned
morosely.
There was a tinkling sound overhead. When Caitlin looked up, she saw the lamp
shaking, shining brighter and brighter though the switch was off, until it
burst with a shower of sparks and glass fragments.
“Cas!” She headed over to him before she could think better of it and knelt in
front of him. “Cas, what’s wrong?”
Cas rubbed his eyes and swallowed hard. “He is already so angry with me, Sarah.
So angry, as he should be. I can never make it up to him.” His clear blue eyes
looked at her imploringly. “He is my friend, Sarah. I never had a friend
before.”
Barely realizing he was using her given name, Caitlin fought the instinct to
touch the angel. He had just exploded a light bulb, after all. The bedside lamp
closest to them began to shine.
“I let him down. I betrayed him. My first friend.”
“Please, relax, Cas. Please. I’m sure it’ll all work out.” Caitlin’s voice
shook, and she started violently when the light bulb burst and shattered.
Closing her eyes and inhaling sharply, she grabbed his hand. When she didn’t
instantaneously combust, she looked at him again. “Calm down, she whispered,
and gently held his hand between both of hers.
“I’m sorry.” Cas briefly collected himself. “I was sent here to protect you,
but I cannot do this. The voices…” He pressed his free hand to his ear and
squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he wore a haunted look. “I
cannot stay. Pray to me if you need my assistance.”
The sparrow outside the window had found a worm. Caitlin was alone, kneeling
beside an empty chair. The floor and bed were covered in tiny glass fragments.
The ever ticking clock informed her that there were five hours left. With a
sigh, she began to clean up.
                                     XOXOX
“You’re a hacker, right?” Sam paced the floor in Charlie’s small living room,
ignoring the eye rollings he received from both Charlie and his brother.
“Couldn’t you hack Dick’s harddrive? Maybe there’s something on there that we
can use against him.”
Charlie shook her head no. “It’s super secure. Not connected to the Internet.
I’d have to actually be in the room with it.”
“But you work there, right? You could go in there?”
“I’m not that brave.” Charlie hunched in on herself.
“So you could? You just won’t because you’re too scared?” Dean took one of the
little figures on Charlie’s desk and scrutinized it.
She snatched it away from him. “Don’t touch my Hermione.”
Dean raised his hands in a half disarming, half sarcastic gesture.
Sam cleared his throat. “Do you think Hermione would back down from something
like this?”
Charlie looked at Sam with narrow eyes before contemplating the tiny figure in
her hand. “No. She wouldn’t.” She sighed deeply. “I guess I should help make
sure everyone I know doesn’t get eaten.”
                                     XOXOX
“The plan starts at 9 PM, then?” Dean looked to Sam and Charlie for
confirmation. They had spent three hours hashing out the details.
“Yeah, plenty of time to get ahold of a van and charge those silly comm links
you found in Wonko’s last year.” Sam pinched his lips at the end of the
sentence and frowned at Dean, daring him to comment.
Dean smiled at him in return, open-mouthed, excited, and wriggled his eyebrows.
“I told you they’d come in handy someday.” Chuckling at Sam’s annoyance, Dean
kicked back in a chair comfortably. “But I think that leaves us just enough
time for another trip to Elizabethtown. I kinda promised Caitlin I’d be there.”
“What?!” Sam stared at him in disbelief. “Dean, we spent several months this
year on FBI’s most wanted list and you want to sit in on the interrogation? Do
you really enjoy prison that much?”
“Course not, Sammy. Orange ain’t my color.” Dean rose from the chair and stood
inches from Sam. “The Leviathans know everything about her and the Mitchells.
How big do you think chances are, they’ll try something this afternoon?” He
poked Sam’s ribs with his index finger to emphasize his next words: “If her
life was on the line, would you continue tonight’s plan?”
Sam looked down, thoughtful. Then he nodded. “You’re right. I can’t believe I
didn’t think of that.”
Dean made a grimace. “Maybe because you didn’t barge into the wrong house to
rescue her and nearly got ate.”
Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Man, I’m sorry. I remember. Lucifer told me
just as you must’ve been going in. Those bastards at the hospital wouldn’t let
me use the phone.”
Charlie cleared her throat loudly. “Okay, the FBI most wanted, I get. Not gonna
ask about Lucifer, because with that name, well… and the rest just sounds... “
she chuckled nervously, “but you’re not leaving me here alone, are you? And if
there’s damsels in distress needing rescuing, I wanna go.”
Dean gave her an amused look. “Eager all of a sudden, aren’t ya? Where was that
adventurous spirit when we suggested a little trespassing at your workplace?”
“It didn’t involve any damsels, did it?” Charlie arched an eyebrow at him and
smirked.
Dean frowned in puzzlement until the dime dropped. “Oh,” he said and scratched
his neck nervously. “Oh.”
***** It Shall Be Told Part I *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm posting this one in two parts as well. Trying to get a bit ahead
     again. I'm sorry for any mistakes. This is unbetaed and only just
     finished so I haven't even been able to reread it myself.
There was a knock on the door. Caitlin jumped, then froze, staring at it. It
was almost an hour earlier than Derek had told Sam and she wasn’t ready. Well,
technically she was, hair dry and smoothed back in a loose ponytail, her
clothes clean and almost matching. But she wasn’t ready. Not yet. Shaking, she
stumbled forward. Not like she would be ready in another hour, anyway.
The rapping came again, harder and more insistent. “Caitlin! Are you in there?”
She rushed the last few steps, smiling broadly. Dean had made it back in time.
She swung the door open and stopped short of throwing herself into his arms
when she saw a petite red haired woman, dwarfed by the two Winchesters on
either side of her. She recognized her from the footage on Sam’s computer the
same morning.
When Charlie felt the other woman’s eyes on her, she smiled sweetly at her and
stuck out her hand. “Hi. I’m Charlie. Nice to meet you.”
Caitlin stared at the outstretched hand and frowned. Her gaze shifted to Dean,
conveying an unvoiced question. Dean shrugged back at her, looking slightly
apologetic or maybe uncomfortable. The awkwardness was growing exponentially
with every millisecond. Caitlin turned back to Charlie and finally shook hands
with her. “I’m Caitlin.”
Caitlin stepped aside and let the others into her room. Only when she had
closed the door and turned to face them, did she see what they were already
staring at. The bulbless lamps, the heap of things on the bed, the confetti-
sized pieces of paper by the chair where she had sat and slowly, bitterly,
demolished the motel bible after cleaning up after Cas.
Dean went to her side and tucked her under his arm, giving her a tight,
comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry we had to leave.”
“I’m glad you came back.” Caitlin snuggled into his side and took a deep sniff
of ‘essence of Dean.’ If that smell could be bottled… Then her eyes found
Charlie again and she regretfully let go of Dean and took a small step away
from him, her cheeks heating up a little. No one should see her this way.
Dean’s eyes flitted between Caitlin and Charlie, a heavy weight settling in his
gut. Should have fucking known. He sighed and jammed his hands in his pockets,
where no one could see them clench until his nails bit into his palms.
“Charlie’s gonna hack Roman’s computer tonight, see if there’s something we can
use against him.” Sam placed a friendly hand on Charlie’s shoulder.
Charlie smiled nervously at Sam. “Can’t wait,” she mumbled. She braced herself
and braved a bigger smile at Caitlin. “I’ll 007 those pesky bigmouths.” She
chuckled humorlessly.
Sam gave her shoulder an extra squeeze. “Definitely.”
“Make Bond your bitch.” Dean gave a lopsided smile but it didn’t reach his
eyes. “We should grab something to eat before things get crazy.”
Caitlin paled at the mention of food and sprinted to the bathroom. The others
shifted uncomfortably on their feet as they heard her retching.
Dean buried his face in his hands with a groan. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”
                                     XOXOX
Caitlin emerged a few minutes later, eyes red and watery, skin pallid. “Sorry.”
Dean was at her side immediately. “No, no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said the
f-word.”
Caitlin giggled and brushed her fingers against his knuckles. “I would have
done it soon anyway.”
According to the clock by the bed, there was half an hour left. Silence fell
over the room and its ticking seemed louder by the second. She met Dean’s eyes
and inexplicably felt the ghost of his warm hands gliding over her skin, his
finger touching her inside. She squirmed when heat flared between her legs and
felt her face heat up. She snatched her hand back and stepped away from Dean,
diverting her attention to Charlie.
“So how did you end up working for the bad guys?”
Charlie shrugged. “I guess I didn’t read the small print in the contract.
Didn’t realize they were any worse than the other corporate assholes willing to
pay me money.” She eyed Caitlin with curiosity. “How did you end up with these
black holes of testosterone as personal bodyguards?”
Dean exposed my boss as an unmitigated misogynist, a ghost tried to kill me,
then Sam tried to kill me in his sleep. We got rid of the ghost, Dean’s three
days old daughter tried to kill us, some Leviathans found and caught us, a
Djinn caught me, Sam got beat up by clowns, then my psycho stepfamily kidnapped
me and here we are. Caitlin pinched her lips and turned her eyes to the window.
The bird was back. “Long story,” she finally said.
“Oh. Right.” Charlie tucked her hair behind her ear. “So what is it we’re doing
this afternoon?”
Caitlin’s mouth fell open and she turned to glare at Dean in open betrayal.
“You haven’t told her?”
“We wanted to get back in a hurry and she insisted on coming.” Dean gave her a
bewildered look.
Caitlin crossed her arms over her chest and paced the short unoccupied space of
the room.
Charlie followed her movements, throwing glances at Sam and Dean. “I…” she
stuttered haltingly, “it sounded like they were going off to rescue someone. I
didn’t get the specifics.”
The brothers both kept busy with the ugly carpet at their feet.
“You thought I needed rescue?” Caitlin’s eyes bored into Dean’s scalp until he
slowly met her eyes, shamefaced. “Fuck you, Dean. Fuck you and your cocky ass
arrogance.”
“Hey, we talked about this.” Dean held out his hands placatingly. “Anyone of
those people you’re meeting could be Leviathan.”
“I just threw up because I have to tell everything to a bunch of complete
strangers in half an hour.” She turned to point an angry finger at Dean. “If
there are Leviathan at least they’re built in a way that means they already
know everything.”
“I was thinking about keeping you alive. All I care about is your safety.” Dean
pointed right back at her in annoyance.
“I’m so glad my safety is your primary concern now that you’ve proven you don’t
give a shit about my feelings.”
Dean’s mouth snapped shut, a pained look crossing his face before anger took
over.
Caitlin wanted to kiss him and punch him and apologize and yell some more.
Regardless, words spilled out her mouth, too big to keep inside. “Fuck
everything I’ve done with you, all the progress I’ve made. No, let’s bring
Caitlin a complete stranger out of the blue so she can spend even more time
talking about the past today. Because Caitlin loves that.”
“God dammit, Caitlin, that’s not it at all. I get that you’re nervous but some
of us are trying to save both your hide and our whole species from becoming
monster chow. Could you snap out of your own pity party for a second and just
tell Charlie that her to-do-list doesn’t start until 9 PM?”
Caitlin let out a shocked gasp as her eyes shone with unshed tears. Her mouth
opened, then closed without a word. She picked up her duffel and swung the door
open wide. A final spiteful glance back at Dean was the last they saw of her
before the door shut with a loud crack behind her.
Dean threw his arms up and looked at Sam. “Should I have said Christo?”
Sam shook his head. “No, she had a point.”
Dean sighed. “Of course she did. Now what?”
“You can’t really protect her from in here. Not that I think she wants you to
right now.”
“You tellin’ me I should apologize?” Dean spoke the words flatly, sounding more
tired than angered.
“Not telling you to do anything. Just stating the facts.” Sam shrugged. Don’t
take it out on me, he didn’t add.
Dean blinked and gave Sam a look. “Fuck it all,” he muttered and scrambled out
the door in a hurry.
Charlie slowly met Sam’s eyes. “I said something stupid, didn’t I?”
                                     XOXOX
Dean looked around the motel parking lot, but Caitlin was long gone. He set out
toward the reception.
“Hey,” he greeted the young clerk at the desk. “Was there a woman in here a few
minutes ago? Blonde hair, this tall?”
The kid answered in a bored voice. “She barely went through the door before
this black dude greeted her. She went with him.”
“They got into a car?”
The clerk shrugged. “Don’t know.”
Dean marched back out, pulling his phone up and punching Morgan’s number. He
tapped his fingers impatiently on the back of the phone through three beeps
before the call was answered.
“Morgan speaking.”
“Is Caitlin with you?”
“Dean?”
“Yeah. Is she?”
“Yes, we’re pulling up at the station as we speak.”
“Put her on.”
There was some rustling as the phone was jostled around. Dean heard Caitlin’s
voice protesting angrily before she spoke into his ear.
“Now is a really fucking bad time, Dean.”
“I know. We can continue the shouting match later, just… did you borax test
Morgan before getting in the car with him?”
The silence stretched and Dean was striding toward the Impala, heart racing,
when she spoke.
“No, because I’m helpless and stupid and without you I’ll die within two hours.
Fuck you, Dean. It’s the real Derek, I’ve got enough soap in my pockets to test
everyone in this lazy-ass town and I’ve got my knife on me. So you can go back
to worrying about saving the human race, for all I care. Go back to Chicago,
kick some monster ass and leave me alone.”
The phone went silent as she ended the call giving Dean no chance to reply.
Dean stood in the middle of the parking lot, shoulders hunched and jaw clenched
tightly. I wonder if Cas’ll sober me up for the heist tonight if I get
shitfaced now.
                                     XOXOX
Caitlin handed Derek the phone, eyes glued to the building they were parked
next to.
“Ready?”
She counted out three slow breaths before answering. “Of course not.” Then she
reached out a trembling hand and opened the car door. She was out of the car
before Derek had gotten his seatbelt off.
Through the double doors was a large open office space, one third of the work
places occupied by men and women in uniform. As they entered, a dark haired
woman stuck her head out of a glass door on the other side of the room.
“Morgan, finally. The Mitchells’ lawyer is starting to complain about
unnecessarily long detainment.”
Derek acknowledged her with a nod. “Is there a room ready for us?”
The woman nodded and pointed to where she had come from. Then she stuck her
hand out toward Caitlin and when Caitlin responded, she didn’t as much shake
hands with her as she simply held her hand in a tight, warm grip. “I’m Emily
Prentiss. Morgan and I will be conducting the interview and it will be recorded
on film. Whenever it gets to be too much, just ask for a break.”
Caitlin nodded, mouth too dry to speak. Agent Prentiss was definitely not a
Leviathan. She put her hand back in her pocket and rubbed some more soap into
her skin.
They walked into a small room, a camera already waiting. There was bottled
water, a bowl of granola bars, assorted chocolate, and a few Pepsi cans on the
table.
Derek pulled out the chair opposite the camera for Caitlin and sat down next to
Prentiss.
“This is a preliminary interview. With what I know so far, it will likely be
the first of many, as we try to dig up as many details about the case as
possible. The goal is to proof beyond any doubt that your stepfather and -
brothers did in fact break the law.” Derek paused and waited for Caitlin to nod
that she understood. “First things first: Can you tell us what happened on the
night of April 14th?”
“I checked into the Midnight Blue Motel in Dewe, Kansas. At some point in the
evening, there was a knock on my door. When I didn’t open, the door was kicked
open. Saul, Cody, and Brad Mitchell entered the motel room uninvited. They…
they didn’t say anything, just walked toward me. Saul had a knife. I got behind
the bed and grabbed a nightstand but it caught in the outlet. He knocked me
out. I came to tied up in a car trunk.”
Prentiss opened her mouth, but Morgan spoke first. “What happened then?”
Caitlin told them. When she talked about the collar, she kept a hand pressed to
her neck. It’s gone, it’s gone, I’m free. When she described the cold shower,
she started shaking.
“Easy now, let’s take a break,” Morgan cut her off.
Caitlin fell silent and focused on her breathing. Her cheeks were wet. The room
felt cold and foreign, too big. She suddenly couldn’t care less that Dean was
an occasional insensitive asshole. All she wanted was his arms around her and
his whisky-gunpowder scent of safety in her nostrils.
When had she become so dependent on him? Well, it wouldn’t do. This world
didn’t care about what she wanted and needed and Dean certainly couldn’t be
expected to mold his chaotic life around her. Get over it, Caitie… Oh God.
That’s his nickname for me. She pushed the chair back and got up. Once safely
out of the camera’s view and her back turned to the others, she cried.
                                     XOXOX
Dean entered the motel room where Sam and Charlie sat next to each other on the
bed, idly chatting. He caught the word “mainframe” and stopped listening. He
plumped down in the chair and uncapped the bottle of whisky he had picked up at
the nearest drugstore after calling Morgan and getting yelled at by Caitlin.
“Hey!” Sam was kneeling in front of Dean, hand waving in front of his face.
Dean startled a bit, hadn’t noticed his brother at all, hell bent on boozing up
in a hurry. “What?”
“You can’t get drunk now. We’re Charlie’s backup in four hours when she walks
into the boss monster lair. Suck it up, Dean.” Sam caught the bottle and tried
to wrestle it away from Dean.
“Cas can kill my buzz in four hours. If I’m gonna be useless, then lemme be
useless.” Dean held onto the bottle petulantly.
Charlie shrieked as Cas showed up out of nowhere. “I will not act as your
personalized angel transport and alcohol purger. It is bad enough that I have
to heal the cirrhosis on your liver every chance I get or you would be dying of
liver failure in less than a decade.”
Eyes glued to the angel, Dean let Sam take the bottle.
Cas put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, the gesture he’d learned from Dean himself
years ago. “You are not useless.”
When Cas said nothing else and didn’t move, the silence grew awkward quickly.
Abruptly, Dean seemed to shake himself out of his funk and stood. “Thanks,
Cas.” He picked up his belongings and threw a meaningful glance at Sam and
Charlie. “How ‘bout we get started a bit earlier?”
Sam pinched his lips together and shook his head. “The only thing we can
accomplish in Chicago now is getting spotted before Charlie has a chance to do
her thing.”
Dean glared at his brother, narrowed eyes and tense muscles easily expressing
his pent up, irrational anger.
Sam sighed and shrugged. “It’s a shitty situation but maybe now is a good a
time as ever to grow up and handle your feelings instead of numbing them or
running away.”
Dean’s mouth fell open and his fists clenched. “I’m not the one who runs,” he
growled.
Sam shrugged again. “Physically, no. But you’re a real pro at hiding, numbing,
repressing, and deflecting.”
“That’s the Winchester way, god dammit!” Spit flew from Dean’s mouth as he
yelled. There had only been one time before where he had wanted to punch Sam
this badly (without the influence of supernatural things, of course.)
He had let his fists fly then and while their fight may not have been the sole
reason for the angels’ scheme succeeding and Sam unknowingly breaking the last
seal, it had certainly been a turning point. Immature as his little brother
insisted that he was, Dean liked to think that he learned from his mistakes.
Before Sam could say anything else, Dean left the room.
“I will watch over him.” Castiel’s announcement hung in the air, drowning out
the flutter of his wings.
Charlie sat wide-eyed on the bed, looking at the spot where the angel had been
seconds before. “Remind me again why I’m not at work, receiving a fat bonus for
cracking a high priority assignment?”
                                     XOXOX
Dean stood in front of the station, separated from Caitlin by much more than
simple brick walls. There could be Leviathan in there. She could be having a
flashback and no one would know how to comfort her. They could be asking her
about Emma and the other Amazons, the Leviathan bodies in her apartment and how
was she going to explain that. He wanted to be there so badly but if he went
inside the building, he would be in cuffs within minutes.
“Cas, are you there?”
The angel showed up next to Dean, his eyes resting on the building in front of
them.
“How’s she doin’?”
“She is crying.” Cas slowly turned toward Dean. “Dean, I can make you look
different to anyone who do not know who you are for certain.”
“What?”
“I can put a glamour on you that only those that know you as an ally can see
through.”
Dean blinked. “Well, what are you waiting for? Do it.”
Cas touched his forehead and Dean’s vision swam momentarily while every single
nerve in his body tingled.
The sensation faded and the world came back into focus. Dean raised a finger at
Castiel. “When this is over, you and I are gonna have a talk about you not
mentioning this earlier.” Dean’s mouth quirked upward as he spoke, however.
“It only works on humans.”
“Spoilsport.” With a squeeze to Cas’ shoulder, Dean went up the broad steps to
the police station.
He went straight to the first available officer. “Excuse me, can you tell me
where to find Agent Morgan?” At the puzzled look, he clarified. “He’s with the
B.A.U. and conducting an interview with a witness at the moment, if I’m not
mistaken.”
***** It Shall Be Told Part B *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Caitlin fought to regain control over herself and stop crying. Every attempt to
focus her thoughts on justice and setting examples dissolved in random
pictures, sensations, sounds, and smells from her childhood and recent
captivity.
She was far from winning the battle and sensing Morgan and Prentiss’ patience
waning when there was a knock on the door. She shied away from the sound,
hiding in her corner and vigorously rubbing her face in her sleeve.
Morgan opened the door, ready to slip through it and talk to whoever was there
outside. He froze. “You can’t be here,” he muttered.
“I’m here to offer my support to Ms. Smith. Of course, I can be here. I belong
here.”
Caitlin gasped at the familiar voice, laced with way too much swagger and
smugness. Slowly she turned to take in Dean’s familiar form.
Dean reached out to shake Derek’s hand as if they’d never met before, his eyes
begging the man to play along. “I’m Dean Smith. No relation to Caitlin. Well,
you knew that, of course, since Smith isn’t her birth name.” He chuckled and
stepped into the room to shake Prentiss’ hand.
Derek couldn’t breathe, ready for Emily to recognize the infamous, undead Dean
Winchester.
Instead she calmly shook his hand and introduced herself.
“It’s good you’re here,” Prentiss added and motioned toward Caitlin.
Dean finally met her eyes, apologetic and excited all at once. “I hope you
don’t mind,” he began but didn’t get any further.
Caitlin threw herself into his arms. “Dean.” Breathing deeply, drinking in his
scent, she smiled into his chest.
He stroked her hair and back, holding her close. She looked up at him, still
smiling, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry I was an ass,
Caitie.” I’m sorry I snapped at you. I was nervous too.
Caitlin pursed her lips in a mock pout. “You should work on your apologies, Mr.
Ass.”
Dean grinned at her. “Yeah, yeah. After we save the world.” He threw a glance
back at the two obviously eavesdropping and intrigued agents. “‘s population of
baby seals. Gotta save seals.”
Caitlin laughed at him and stood on tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his
cheek. She turned to Morgan. “Can you get him a chair?”
Ten minutes later, the interview was back on track. With Dean there to ground
Caitlin, the agents quickly discovered that they could ask for more details
without her crumbling before them. This led to Prentiss finally asking some of
the difficult questions they needed answers to before they could do more about
the Mitchells.
“As you probably know, we were already looking for you when you were kidnapped
by the Mitchells. We had reason to believe that a couple of notorious serial
killers had taken you from your home a few weeks prior to the abduction in
Dewe. What really happened?”
Dean placed a hand on Caitlin’s arm before she could speak. “She’s not at
liberty to tell you.”
“What?”
“I said,” Dean leaned forward and fixed Prentiss with a steely glare, “she’s
not at liberty to tell you.”
“I heard. What’s that supposed to mean?” Prentiss shot back, no less
relentless.
Dean leaned back and relaxed into his chair. Time to load the bullshit cannon
with sharp rounds. “The Winchesters are dead,” he stated matter of factly.
“I’ll most likely lose my job telling you this but Caitlin here has become my
highest priority.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and smiled at her.
Caitlin stared at him, open-mouthed.
Dean squeezed her shoulder again and she hesitantly shut her mouth and managed
to look like she was perfectly in the know. Dean sighed, as if reluctant to
continue. “Their DNA was abstracted from the biomaterial of the explosion back
in ‘08 and has been used in a series of classified experiments. Last spring the
Chinese got hold of a sample. The latest Winchester sightings were really
Chinese robots.”
There was stunned, disbelieving silence in the room. Finally, Prentiss spoke,
flatly. “Robots?”
“Yeah, robots. I’m afraid we lost that race by lightyears. Anyway, Caitie got
sorta caught in a dispute with the Chinese over the Winchester robots after we
stole ‘em back.”
Prentiss stared at him, ready to call his bluff.
Dean smirked. “Obviously, that entire affair is a CIA matter, not to mention a
diplomatic nightmare. It has nothing to do with what happened to Ms. Smith when
her family found her in Dewe.”
“And the fact that the Mitchells claim that a man matching Dean Winchester’s
description came to their door three days ago?” Prentiss asked, her tone a bit
softer.
“What? 6ft2, dark blond hair? C’mon, that could be anyone. It could be me.”
Dean chuckled. “It was me. I’d just had a run-in with the damned Chinese when I
stumbled upon their hideout.” Shit, I hope I look enough like myself for this
to work.
Morgan looked like his eyes might pop out any second but he wisely kept his
mouth shut as Prentiss slowly nodded.
“Very well, Mr. Smith. We’ll check your explanations through our official
channels.” She turned to Caitlin. “Are you ready to continue, Ms. Smith?”
Caitlin nodded, eyes still a bit round. She recounted how Saul had dragged her
into the living room and how Cody had been there, waiting.
Dean reached out and held her hand, constantly rubbing circles in her palm and
occasionally squeezing it as she talked. When she described his dramatic and
well-timed entry, he let out a small snort of protest. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Caitlin was about to argue when he squeezed her hand, hard. He gave her a
worried look. Right. Angels don’t exist. “Maybe not, but it sure looked bad,”
she amended, squeezing his hand back.
                                     XOXOX
Cas showed up in the motel room, just as Sam and Charlie were getting ready to
go out. They were hungry.
“Dean is with Caitlin. I have made him unrecognizable to humans who don’t know
him. It works. He asks if you could do him a “solid”.” Cas did the air quotes
with his hands, addressing Charlie.
“Um, maybe? What does he want?”
“He wants you to hack into CIA’s database and create a fake project using
Winchester DNA from ‘08, a fake report on a security breach in 2011 casting
suspicion on the Chinese. Finally, he wants a fake agent named Dean Smith on
the case. If you can make up some reports from said agent about Chinese
Winchester robots in Seattle causing a bit of a ruckus resulting in the death
of a band of Chinese spies that would be tippity top.”
“Tippity top?” Sam smiled.
“Dean’s words,” Cas answered, completely deadpan.
Charlie was already opening the laptop, mumbling curses about not being a
goddamned fiction writer.
Sam sat down next to her. “Just get us in there, I’ll help with the details.
Cas, do you have something you want to do or would you be willing to get us
some food while we work?”
“I can do that, Sam. Pepperoni pizza?” A soft, barely there smile ghosted over
his face.
                                     XOXOX
Caitlin was so tired she could barely stand when the interview ended and she
was allowed to leave.
“Take a day to relax and process,” Morgan told her. “We’ll have thought up a
new batch of questions for you by Thursday.”
She acknowledged his words with a nod while yawning.
Dean wrapped an arm around her and kept her on course. It was 8.15 PM by the
time they returned to the motel.
They halfway crashed through the door where Charlie and Sam jumped to their
feet.
“About time!” Charlie’s hair was a mess and her lower lip looked red like she’d
bitten down on it repeatedly for hours.
“Wouldn’t miss our Bond-girl doing her thing,” Caitlin slurred, smiling at her.
“Hold up, Caitie, you’re wiped. Get some sleep.”
“Didn’t you hear Morgan? I can sleep tomorrow. Right now, I want to come with
you guys.”
“And if someone spots you in Chicago when you’re supposed to be here?”
“They won’t be seeing me, just a Chinese robot.” Caitlin chuckled, then she
laughed out loud until she was crying from laughing so hard. “Do you have any
idea, how hard it was to sit there and keep a straight face?”
Dean shrugged and scratched his neck. “Just had to get them to stop worrying
about all that.”
Caitlin snorted. “Yeah, like they’re not going to talk to the CIA and learn
that it was all bullshit. They’ll probably drop the case completely,” she
realized, voice dropping low.
“Of course not,” Charlie said indignantly. “Via Angel telegraph we received a
request for a new entry in the CIA database. I can assure you that when they
check, they will find as much information as their security clearance allows
them on Project W-08.147.”
Sam took over. “They’ll also find the reports on the theft of the project’s
data and experiments as well as the valiant counter theft by Agent Dean Smith
and his partner, Agent Nick Wesson.” Sam grinned. “There’s even a short note
about a civilian helping them out in a shoot-out with the Chinese.”
Charlie chuckled. “It’s all completely legit. Manipulating the financial
markets through panic and indebting the US further, included. No bullshit.
Though I doubt anyone will ever take the CIA seriously again.”
Caitlin laughed with her. “Has anyone ever taken the CIA seriously?”
“More power to them,” Dean grumbled. He gave Sam a sharp look. “How long have
you waited to use Nick as a nick, knucklehead?” Then, shaking his head at Sam’s
answering grin, he continued: “Is everyone ready to go? Is it impossible to
convince you to stay, Caitlin?”
                                     XOXOX
The girls sat in the back of the van they had made their base of operations, as
Dean drove with his usual nonchalance and disregard of speed limits.
Charlie moved purposefully, connecting wires and stacking equipment.
Occasionally she’d pause to write seemingly random combinations of letters and
numbers into Sam’s laptop.
“Pass me that circuit board, please.”
Caitlin clutched a steel rack, slightly green. She looked at the heap of stuff
they had picked up on the way (Cas had agreed to mess with the security cameras
only after they promised to put everything back in perfect order when they were
done.)
“This one?” She picked up a random item and held it out to Charlie.
Charlie chuckled. “Not a geek girl, are you?” She took the thing and put it
back, digging around until she got hold of the board.
“I fix people,” Caitlin shrugged.
Charlie arched an eyebrow at her and smirked. “Nurse?”
“Doctor. I’ll be choosing my specialty next year if they let me finish this
term.”
Charlie grinned. “You go, girl. I can totally forgive your technical ignorance,
then.”
“Oh thank God. I don’t know how I could survive without your approval,” Caitlin
deadpanned.
Charlie shook her head, smiling. The circuit board already connected to her
satisfaction, she continued setting up a surveillance system and readying it to
hack into the system at Roman Enterprise. It was easy and left her too much
brainpower to worry about what she was going to be doing in an hour or two.
“Please don’t freak out on me again,” she said, “but can you tell me anything
about what was going on this afternoon? I’ve been wracking my brain but I just
can’t connect the dots to how that CIA hack had anything to do with monster
hunting.”
Caitlin nodded to herself. Charlie had earned some measure of trust. “I guess
that Sam and Dean are branching out a bit, because of me.” She rubbed her
forehead with her free hand. “I’m sure you’re aware that humans can be
monstrous, too. They’re helping me put my stepdad and his sons behind bars.”
Charlie frowned. “Bonnie and Clyde types or Michael Jackson fans? If they’re up
Dahmer’s ally, don’t tell me or I might abandon this mission.”
Caitlin shivered and looked through the narrow opening at the small visible
strip of road. “Jacksons.”
She let out a small gasp when she felt Charlie’s hand at the side of her face.
She looked into a pair of sad eyes did Charlie and Sam practice puppy eyes all
day? and braced herself for the inevitable pity.
“I really admire your strength,” Charlie said and ran her thumb over Caitlin’s
cheekbone once before removing her hand.
Caitlin’s cheeks flushed. “Thanks.”
                                     XOXOX
“Flirt? What do you mean flirt? He’s not exactly my type,” Charlie hissed into
the microphone hidden in her t-shirt, careful not to let the security guard
standing between her and Roman’s office hear.
Sam and Dean turned to Caitlin, hovering behind them in the cramped space in
the back of the van
“Don’t look at me. I’ve never flirted in my life, all I want is for guys to
leave me alone.”
Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. I’ll talk you through it. Ask him if he
works out a lot.”
                                     XOXOX
“I’ve got something. A special delivery arriving at the airport in 40 minutes.
Everything about the way it’s described screams fear. Well, perhaps not fear
but caution.” Charlie spoke breathlessly into the mic, now going through the
emails at her own desk.
The three in the van all held their breaths. The plan had been for Charlie to
return to them so they could review the stolen data somewhere else, but Charlie
insisted that she had stuff she needed to do on her own work computer before
leaving the place behind for good.
“She’s probably deleting her tracks after hacking Pentagon,” Dean muttered,
frowning with worry.
“Goldman Sachs, actually,” came the flippant reply over the intercom. “Do you
want the secret stuff? Go to DuPage Airport, strip 5. I’ve made it look like
the plane is half an hour delayed.”
“Thanks, Charlie,” Sam told her sincerely.
“Yeah yeah. Now scoot, I’ll cover for you.” Charlie focused on the rather time-
consuming task of permanently deleting any mentions of Winchesters from Frank
Deveraux’s hard disk as well as any trace of the information ever having been
there or having been tampered with.
“How far to DuPage,” Dean asked.
Sam looked it up on his phone. “With you driving and this time of night, we
should be able to make it in 30 minutes.”
Dean grinned. “Perfect. I’ve got an idea.”
“I’ll stay and keep an eye on Charlie,” Caitlin offered.
The brothers clapped her on the shoulder and left her in the van. She waited,
eyes locked on the security camera feed, heart in her throat. Thirty minutes
later, she hailed Charlie over the intercom. “Charlie, a big black limo just
drove into the garage. I’d say it’s time you leave.”
“Five more minutes.” Charlie’s fingers moved so fast it looked like she had at
least twenty of them through the camera feed.
Caitlin watched Roman exit the black limo downstairs. “No. Charlie, whatever
you’re doing, it’s not worth it. Get out, now.”
Charlie sighed and contemplated the screen for a moment. “Fine. After all, I
won’t be there to help fix this.” She got up and left.
Thanks to a warning from Caitlin, Charlie was able to duck into a restroom,
narrowly avoiding Roman striding toward her cubicle. Soon, she joined Caitlin
in the van. Just then, Caitlin’s phone went off.
“We got it and left the bigmouths a surprise. Is Charlie out?” Dean’s voice was
a mix of glee and concern.
“She’s out,” Caitlin told him.
“Awesome. Meet us at the electronic store.”
Somehow Charlie had managed to take apart all their borrowed equipment while
regularly shouting to Caitlin to ignore the GPS and take alternative routes
with fewer traffic cameras.
They were all bone tired when everything had been returned. Cas zapped them
back to the motel room in North Carolina.
“Should we look at the mystery suitcase now or sleep first?” Caitlin yawned
before anyone said anything.
“That’s your answer, I guess,” Sam said reluctantly. “I’m dying to know what it
is but it might not be safe. We should at least be prepared and able to think
on our feet.”
Dean and Charlie expressed their agreement. Then Dean scratched his neck and
cleared his throat. “We, um, don’t have enough cash to rent another room for
you, Charlie.”
“Isn’t there a cot in Sam’s room?” Caitlin smiled at Charlie and blinked
sleepily. When Sam nodded his affirmation, she stumbled into the bathroom to
get ready for bed.
Dean had to swallow several times to get the gruff words out: “I’ll just get my
stuff.”
Charlie gave him a confused look. “Wouldn’t I be using the cot?”
Dean looked at her and the closed bathroom door. “She seems to like you, so
I’ll just…”
Charlie crossed her arms over her chest. “That girl is head over heels for you,
you daft man-child.” She pointed toward the bathroom and continued: “She’s
really awesome, dude, and if I had a snowball’s chance in Hell, I’d be all over
her. But my gaydar works just fine. You’d take it up the ass from Star Trek
Trench dude before she'd even consider having sex with me.”
Charlie left the room before Dean had time to close his open mouth. Sam
followed her hurriedly, giving Dean a cheeky grin over his shoulder as he shut
the door behind him.
Dean was still analyzing all the ways Charlie’s words were dead wrong when
Caitlin exited the bathroom.
“All yours,” she smiled and gestured behind her.
Dean stared at her. She didn’t notice, simply crawled into the bed and burrowed
into the pillow, content. If she felt any disappointment that she’d be sharing
the bed with him and not Charlie she hid it incredibly well. Dean rubbed his
eyes one-handed and went to brush his teeth.
As soon as he lay down, Caitlin snuggled in close, throwing an arm across his
stomach. She sighed and mmh’ed and pecked his cheek before closing her eyes and
relaxing.
Despite his exhaustion, it was a long time before Dean fell asleep.
Chapter End Notes
     Edit January, Monday 23rd.
     I've been extremely stressed in my pesky real life due to an
     unexpected turn of events. For the first time since I started posting
     this story, I will have to disappoint you. No new chapter today. I'm
     working on it and I have faith that it will be done by January 30th.
     Be well and take care of yourselves, everyone :)
***** Dangerous Knowledge *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Caitlin woke with her nose squished against Dean’s armpit. She sucked in a
breath and scrunched her face. Super concentrated essence of Dean gone slightly
sour was more of a stink than a scent. She untangled herself and paused before
leaving the bed. Dean was snoring lightly; you’d think a man his size would
make more noise. She watched him for a little while but for once, he seemed to
sleep soundly without nightmares. She collected clean clothes from her bag and
went for a shower.
Dean still slept when she came back; he hadn’t even moved. She crawled back
into bed with him and nestled against him. She planted little kisses on his
torso and shoulder and idly began to trace the tattoo over his heart with a
finger.
Dean went instantly from sleeping deeply to fully alert. That wasn’t new. That
it wasn’t an ominous sound preceding the need to fight for his life, to protect
Sammy; that was new.
He blinked his eyes open against the fair amount of light streaming through the
inadequate curtains. He met Caitlin’s soft gaze and swallowed hard. His
enthusiastic morning wood throbbed at the sight of her, hair wet and disheveled
from lying down after being combed, her nipples perked up under her clingy,
white t-shirt. Fuck, I’m so in over my head.
“What time is it?” Dean got up on his elbows and looked for himself, clearing
his throat against the dry raspiness left by hours of sleep.
“Almost noon. Ah,” Caitlin gasped at a loud banging on their door. There was a
quick movement next to her and then Dean had his gun aimed at the unknown
threat.
“Hey, sleepyheads.”
Caitlin and Dean both relaxed at Charlie’s teasing words.
“Let us in, we bring food.”
Caitlin shared a grin with Dean and bounced over to open the door while he
tucked the gun away.
Charlie and Sam entered, arms laden with food.
Soon they were all seated, Dean and Caitlin on the edge of the bed, Charlie in
the chair, and Sam cross-legged on the floor (“Dude, I can see the top of your
head,” Charlie exclaimed to everyone’s amusement) eating. They didn’t speak
much, all casting frequent glances at the mysterious suitcase from the airport.
“Okay,” Sam said, finally, unfolding himself and collecting food boxes and
trash in a bag. “We’ve slept, we’ve eaten. It’s time.”
Dean nodded. “Right. Charlie, Caitlin, you should go into Sam’s room, redo the
salt line at the door and lock it.”
“What?”
“Why?”
The two women spoke in unison, glaring at Dean.
“Please. We don’t know what it is. It could be dangerous.” His words came out
strained. “Sam and I, we’re used to this stuff. Caitlin, you’ve seen some shit
by now, but nothing like this has the potential to be. I don’t want you in
here.” Dean’s shoulders tensed as he glared right back at Caitlin. Then he
tilted his head slightly in Charlie’s direction.
Caitlin’s eyes narrowed. Then she glanced at Charlie. When Dick Roman had been
headed Charlie’s way last night, Caitlin’s heart had hammered its way halfway
through her chest and she had barely been able to breathe.
Caitlin’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “If we hear screaming we’ll come running
anyway, Numbnuts.” She grabbed Charlie’s hand and dragged her toward the door.
“Let’s leave the boys to their toys. Too bad we don’t have a hidden camera
somewhere. I bet it’ll be better than an episode of Jackass.”
Charlie looked back at the brothers almost apologetically, as she was pulled
out of the room. “You’re really letting him tell you what to do?” She asked
Caitlin as she shut the door behind them.
“On the rare occasion that I understand his reasoning.” Caitlin hadn’t walked
further away from the door, however. She put a finger to her lips, signaling
Charlie to keep quiet.
Charlie nodded her understanding with a mischievous smile.
                                     XOXOX
“Morgan speaking.”
“What, no greetings for your working girl?” Penelope’s teasing pout needed no
video link to come through.
“Sorry, honey pants, you’re not the only one working.” If he could just believe
that this was a social call, he might not have had to force himself to smile.
“Well, I have no doubts about that. I’m looking at some pretty impressive work
right now, and I think I’m gonna have to hold you to your promise about an
explanation. I trust you but this is… What the hell is going on?”
“Garcia… I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“The hell you are. You had me erase security footage of you with Sarah Mitchell
before she was kidnapped. Then she’s rescued by mysterious vigilantes while you
guys were in California and they contacted you. You tell me to dig deep on the
Mitchells and their hideout and suddenly we’re hauling in human traffickers
bordering on slave traders. And now? Now there’s a so-called CIA agent
interested in the witness interrogation and the most impressive hack-job I’ve
ever seen with a completely bizarre cover story for recent inexplicable events.
Then I go and search the databases for this Agent Smith dude and guess who’s
file shows up? Dean fucking Winchester’s, you hear? Only it’s Smith’s mugshot
on it and not Winchester’s. And I can’t even find evidence that his file has
been tampered with. We looked at it just last week, Morgan. We all know what
the real Dean Winchester looks like so why has his picture been swapped out
with Agent Smith’s? Who happens to be a Dean, by the way. You better tell me
everything you know or my head will explode!”
“We can’t talk about this on the phone, Penelope!”
“Pff, I’m confused, not retarded. I’ve scrambled the hell out of this call, no
one’s listening.”
“Didn’t expect anything less from you,” Morgan replied gruffly. “But I don’t
want to have this conversation like this.”
“I figured. I’m heading up in a few hours. Gonna be helping with the pervs. So
I’m giving you a heads up. Better be ready to spill everything tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Derek ended the call with a soft smile.
                                     XOXOX
“Cas, you here?” Dean looked around the room, squaring his shoulders.
Sam shook his head and shrugged.
“Castiel, Angel of the Lord, would you honor us with your presence or whatever
the fuck we’re supposed to say to get some celestial superpowers at our backs?”
Cas materialized in front of Dean, a mere foot away, squinting intensely at his
friend.
Dean gave a violent start. “Goddammit, Cas. Are you trying to give me a heart
attack?”
“I believe that would be counterproductive. What do you want me to do?”
“Just… just stand there and look pretty when we open this thing and if
something iffy comes out, make sure the girls are safe. They’re -”
“-right outside the door, eavesdropping. I shall do my best to protect all of
you, if necessary.”
“Thanks, Cas.” Dean squeezed Cas’ shoulder as he stepped around him to grab the
suitcase.
“Yeah, thanks man,” Sam chimed in, patting Cas’ other shoulder as he positioned
himself next to his brother.
Dean frowned at him. “Dude. It’s not a lightbulb and I’m not Polish.”
Sam merely raised an eyebrow. “Neither am I, you should stand back a little.”
“Screw that.” Dean scowled and then deftly picked the lock on the suitcase.
“Ready?”
When both Sam and Cas nodded, he opened the lid. holding his breath. Inside was
something vaguely rectangular wrapped in a white cloth.
Sam made a small protesting sound when Dean reached for the object and started
unwrapping it.
Dean ignored his brother, too excited to worry about gloves. The last of the
cloth fell away to reveal a red, clay square.
“The fuck is this?” Dean tapped it, testing the sound. “Sounds hollow.” Before
Sam could stop him, he bashed the thing against the edge of the open suitcase.
It shattered to reveal a stone the size of an Xbox. The surface was obsidian
black, smooth and shiny, and every inch was covered in strange runes. Dean ran
his hands over the stone, at once sleek and ridged. “This doesn’t look like
much. Dammit.”
Behind him, Castiel dropped to the floor, unconscious.
                                     XOXOX
Caitlin started guiltily at Castiel’s muffled declaration on the other side of
the door. When the door wasn’t thrown open immediately, she sighed in relief.
She exchanged amused glances with Charlie at the brothers’ banter and then held
her breath. When she heard the disappointment in Dean’s voice a bit later, she
shook her head sadly.
Then there was the characteristic thump of a body hitting the floor (do I
recognize it because of my medical training or because of this past month?) and
Dean’s frantic shouts for Cas.
Without a second glance at Charlie, Caitlin burst into the room.
Dean kneeled next to Cas, patting his face repeatedly, Sam stopped his strides
toward the door abruptly as Caitlin entered. She vaguely registered something
black and heavy-looking in his hands, then she knelt across from Dean.
“What happened?”
“No idea, he just went lights out. We weren’t near him or anything.” Dean gave
her a pleading look. “What’s wrong with him?”
Caitlin found a strong, regular pulse, somewhat faster than that of an average
human being. The temperature was higher than normal but was that perhaps simply
an angel thing? Castiel’s breathing was as normal and healthy as his pulse.
“Dean, do you happen to know if it’s normal for Cas to be warmer than humans?
Do you know anything about angels’ heart rates? Because I don’t. I specialize
in humans.” Her wide eyes and the tremor in her voice negated any hint of snark
in her words.
Dean stared back at her, then down at his friend. “Come on, Cas.” He slapped
Cas’ cheek slightly harder once, then fisted his hands in the trench coat above
the angel’s shoulders and simply held on.
“Unbutton his shirt.”
Dean’s and Caitlin’s eyes shot up to Sam, a frown and a raised eyebrow mirrored
their unvoiced questions. Dean’s gaze slid down to the black stone in Sam’s
hands, widening at the sight of blood running across the inscriptions.
“Please, Dean.” Sam stood over them, impassive, ignoring the drops of blood
splattering the floor underneath him.
The hairs on Caitlin’s arms and on the back of her neck stood. Bobby’s mirage
flickered behind Sam, shoulders slumped and face stricken. Still, he nodded
once as if approving Sam’s request. Caitlin opened the buttons, her hands
shaking and clumsy.
Somewhere close to the door, Charlie whimpered softly and pressed her fist to
her mouth to muffle the sound.
When Caitlin made room, Sam fell to his knees, hard. Clutching the stone in his
left hand, he drew sigils on Cas’ chest and stomach with his bleeding right
hand. Placing his palm in the middle of the scrawlings, he activated the sigil.
Castiel seized and coughed. He opened his eyes to find Sam’s bloody hand
hovering over him, unblinking eyes staring but not really seeing.
“Sam,” Cas croaked. “Sam, what have you done?”
Sam’s vacant stare focused on Cas, a questioning frown wrinkling his forehead.
Cas pointed at the stone. “What did you do?”
“Bamesa, Castiel. Bamesa doalimni. Dooaip balatune, ciaosi canilu. Bamesa.”
Sam’s words held a strange echo as if another voice spoke them simultaneously.
Cas made an agonized keening noise and hid his face in his hands. He stayed
like that, half sitting, half lying on the floor, that heartbreaking sound from
deep in his throat continuing.
Sam’s eyes widened in shock. “I can’t hear you. Cas, I can’t hear you.”
Dean was on his feet instantly, catching Sam just as his knees gave out. “It’s
okay, Sammy. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” He half carried, half dragged Sam
to the bed and got him to sit. Squeezing Sam’s shoulders, he repeated his
promise. “We’ll fix it.”
Sam shut his eyes tightly then opened them again after only a few seconds,
breathing fast. “I can’t hear anything. Just His voice. He drowns out
everything else.”
Dean’s face fell, his entire body slumping. “Lucifer? You’re hearing Lucifer
again?”
Sam frowned in concentration, eyes widening with recognition. “No.” He shook
his head violently. “No, not Lucifer.” He screwed his eyes shut and put his
hands over his ears. “I know, I know, I know!” After a few harsh breaths he
opened his eyes again, taking in Dean’s shocked expression. “Sorry,” he
mumbled. “Yahweh.”
Sam’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed on the bed. A trickle of blood ran from
his ears and stained the covers.
Dean stood frozen, eyes glued to Sam’s still form on the bed.
Bobby showed up next to him. “He’ll wake up. Probably.”
When Dean didn’t react, Caitlin spoke. “What happened?”
Bobby shook his head sadly. “Sam fucking Winchester happened. You boys,” he
muttered darkly. “You always mess with things you don’t understand, never mind
the consequences.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean turned to Bobby, eyes narrowed, his words
more growled than spoken.
“Oh, he meant well. You always mean well. Idjits.”
Dean crossed his arms in front of him, the corners of his mouth turned down.
“If you know what’s going on, then say it.”
“That thing you found? That’s the word of God.” Bobby pointed to the black
stone that Sam still clutched to his chest even unconscious.
At the mention of God, Dean scoffed.
“It’s not written in Enochian or any other known language. Remember that movie
we watched when you and Sam holed up after…” At the dangerous glint in Dean’s
eyes, Bobby trailed off, the words ‘losing John’ unspoken.
“The movie. Nerd and kickass hottie chasing after some biblical shit. The guy
had that line, what was it.” Bobby rolled his eyes and made his voice higher.
“I did it, I learned the language of the birds in two hours and I didn’t even
use a Rosetta stone.” Bobby shook his head in disgust. “Worst bullcrap I ever
heard. Your brother’s smart, Dean. He could’ve done it, too, deciphered the
language on that thing. In a couple of decades, maybe.”
Dean opened his mouth to protest but Bobby cut him short. “You know the
difference between fiction and reality, don’t make this about your brother.
Besides, it’s irrelevant. Sam decided to take a shortcut.”
Caitlin had checked Sam’s vitals while Bobby spoke. The man might be dead but
she agreed with his prediction - Sam would probably wake up, nothing seemed to
be physically wrong, at least. Now, she went to Dean’s side and gently took his
hand. She looked at Bobby expectantly. “How?”
“He used blood and power of will and prayer, I think. I’m not sure how it works
or how the fuck he even thought of it.” Bobby eyed Sam’s unconscious form. “Now
it’s bound to him. And he to it.”
                                     XOXOX
Penelope Garcia stared at her friend and coworker open mouthed. “You bloody
bastard! You teased the crap out of me for worrying that my new place was
haunted.”
Derek ducked his head. “I’m sorry. But I did ask the Winchesters for help and
we didn’t find anything.”
Garcia sputtered. “You... They… My home? You asked infamous criminals to break
into my home?”
“They didn’t. I just borrowed their EMF-meter. And you gave me the key
yourself, remember?”
Garcia opened her mouth again, index finger raised at Morgan but he cut her
short.
“I had to look out for my girl, didn’t I?”
She sighed and shook her head sadly. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“If you had believed me, how many full nights of sleep would you have had since
then?”
Garcia’s eyes widened in horror and she covered her open mouth with both her
hands. “You’re right. Oh my God, you’re right. Christ, Morgan, why are you
telling me now?”
He smiled softly and took her hands, gently removing them from her face. “We’ve
both seen a lot since then, haven’t we? Been through too much shit to get
scared of yet another boogeyman, dontcha think?”
“You’ve just insinuated that said boogeyman is real.”
“He is. But he is in no way scarier than the ones we deal with each and every
day, Penny. Real monsters are dangerous because it’s their nature to kill but
they’re no way near as frightening as humans choosing to become monsters.”
Garcia nodded solemnly. Then suddenly she started giggling. “I’m sorry,” she
hiccuped. “But imagine Animal Planet covering monsters and their habits.” She
made her voice a bit deeper and narrated. “Today we see the vampire Lestat,
hunting the suburbs for easy prey. He ducks into the shadows as he spots a
target meandering down the street.” She burst out laughing.
Derek merely responded with a pinched smile. “If Lestat had any brains, he’d
eat the narrator and run off to another city.”
Penelope placed a hand over her heart and pouted. “You wound me, Derek. You
wound me deeply.”
Derek shook his head at her antiques, smiling.
Penelope schooled her face back into seriousness. “Now, can you tell me how
your statement that ghosts and monsters are real relates to the mess we’re in
now?”
“Come on, Penny. You’ve seen the recording of Dean Winchester in Baltimore. You
saw Gideon and Hotchner’s reactions to it. You’re smart. Figure it out.” Derek
leaned back and waited.
Penelope’s eyes widened in shock. “The Winchesters aren’t delusional serial
killers?”
“No, they’ve saved a lot of lives over the years. Mine included.”
“But what about all the times they’ve died?”
“It’s been impersonators that bought it while wearing their likenesses, like in
St. Louis, when Dean got his first death certificate or this last time with all
the black goo instead of blood. The serial killers earlier this year were
shapeshifting monsters, too, not robots.”
“I want to believe you but it’s so farfetched…”
“I know. Do you want to meet them?”
“Meet them?” Garcia blinked and fidgeted a bit. “What if you’re wrong about
them?”
“I’ve known them for a very long time, Penny. Longer than you and I’ve known
each other. And some of the things they’re doing at the moment are way above my
very limited hunting paygrade. I can’t explain things to you the way they can.”
He got to his feet and offered his hand to her. “Come on. They’re not far from
here.”
Chapter End Notes
     Finally, here it is :)
     And it's official. I'll never be able to round off this story, I'm
     afraid. Writer's block on top of IRL events forced me to deviate from
     my beautiful, detailed, perfectly fine outline and follow where
     inspiration took me.
     Damn you, Sammy. Why'd ya hafta go and be the hero again, huh?
     - Oh and if you don't want to trawl the Internet for the translation
     of the Enochian words, their meaning WILL be revealed in the next
     chapter :)
***** Absolution *****
Chapter Notes
     A shorter chapter, but at least I didn't split it in two. I'm really
     fighting to get something out every week at the moment. However, it's
     very satisfactory when I succeed - even if it's crap compared to my
     normal standards. I WILL finish this story. Then, I will go back and
     revise the shit out of it until I'm proud of it.
     Thank you for reading, for staying with me. We'll get there. Promise.
     I just don't know how long it will take, anymore. But I'll try my
     damnedest to publish something every Monday until the finishing line.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Cas was still frozen on the floor, face hidden. Charlie reluctantly crossed the
floor to his side, not bothering to actually stand up.
“What’s wrong?” She tried to pry his hands from his face and he twisted away
from her. “Stop that. Are you hurt?”
“Hurt. So much hurt. I should not be here. Why? Why restore me this time? This
is my punishment. No amount of suffering will ever right the wrongs I’ve done.”
Cas folded even further in on himself. “His words. They are burning me,” he
whispered into his rumpled coat.
Charlie stared at him, mouth slightly open. “Did you hit your head?” She looked
around and noticed Caitlin and Dean talking to the transparent dude that had
shown up and scared the crap out of her. As if the angel in front of her and
his teleporting abilities wasn’t freaking her the fuck out already. “Doc!
Caitlin! A little help, please?”
Caitlin turned to Charlie’s voice and then toward the last remaining lightbulb
above her. It was off and doing nothing as it should be. She shrugged, squeezed
Dean’s hand once and went over to Charlie and Cas. “I’m not sure I can help
him, Charlie. I don’t know anything about angels.” She knelt next across from
Charlie and placed a gentle hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Cas, Castiel, hey. Can you
tell me what’s wrong?”
“I am flawed. Undeserving. I belong in the pit.” Cas’ gravelly voice came out
hollow and flat.
Caitlin considered him for a moment. Then she stood and went to Dean’s side.
Bobby was gone again and Dean was brushing a lock of Sam’s hair away from his
closed eyes. “Dean.”
Dean showed no sign of having heard her.
Caitlin stroked her fingers lightly over his stubbled jaw. “Dean. Let him
sleep. I could really use your help real quick.”
Dean finally looked at her, his eyes glistening and his mouth and chin wobbly.
A sob broke ripped out of his throat and he wiped his eyes with thumb and index
finger, shaking his head reflexively. When he looked at her again, his words
came out scratchy and broken. “I just had him back. I’m s’posed to look after
him, Caitie. Now he’s gone again. Fuck, I just want my brother.”
Caitlin wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a fierce hug.
He was shaking, breaths hitching as he clung to her. “He’s going to be fine.
We’ll help him. Right now, he just needs a little rest, okay?”
Dean nodded against the crook of her neck. “Okay,” he mumbled.
“I’ve got you,” Caitlin murmured. “You’re not alone. We’ll do whatever it
takes, right?”
Dean stiffened in her arms. He pulled away slowly, his movements jerky with
tension. “Right. Yeah, sure.” He sounded sincere but didn’t meet her eyes. He
rolled his shoulders a couple of times, kept his gaze on the steady rising and
falling of Sam’s chest for long seconds, before meeting Caitlin’s eyes.
Caitlin blinked in surprise. Dean’s expression was shuttered, cold. Determined.
“You wanted my help?”
Caitlin blinked again. She swallowed against a lump in her throat and nodded.
“It’s Cas. He’s kind of hysterical. He said something yesterday about letting
you down. Maybe you can get through to him.”
Dean followed her gaze to the corner where Cas huddled, Charlie hunched over
him but completely ignored. He gave Caitlin a curt nod and went to nudge Carlie
out of the way. He managed to find enough room to sit down next to Cas,
shoulder to shoulder. He elbowed Cas in the ribs, hard. “Cas. What’s up.”
“Dean?”
“Yeah, man, it’s me. You wanna tell me what’s gotten your panties in a twist?”
Cas’ hands flew from his face his eyes round with astonishment. “What makes you
think I am wearing panties? I am wearing boxer shorts and they are not twisted.
They are snug and comfortable.”
Dean’s eyes widened in a comical response to Castiel’s. His mouth opened, then
closed again, then opened. Finally, he started laughing so hard he shook with
it. He threw his head back against the wall and snorted, practically howled and
snorted again. Eventually, his outburst quieted down into fits of giggles and
snickering.
Cas regarded him impassively until Dean seemed to be back in control of
himself. “Did I say something funny?”
“Na, man. You were just… being excessively you. Did I mention how much I
fucking missed you after… all these months?”
“You should hate me. Dean, I betrayed you. I… I hurt Sam, I hurt innocent
people. I… I killed angels. So many.”
“I don’t hate you. I’ve been really angry and maybe, maybe I still am, some of
the time. But I get it, Cas. I know you felt like you had no other choice. I
know you didn’t take any joy from it and I know you meant to fix things again
right after. What happened after the ritual… that wasn’t really you. I don’t
blame you for those things and neither should you.”
“Why not? I performed the ritual, I consumed all the souls of Purgatory,
knowing it was risky. Sure, I was desperate to win the war against Raphael and
keep him from restarting the Apocalypse, but you were right then. You were my
friends. I should have come to you for help instead of going behind your
backs.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson. Can we skip this blame-game, Cas? I
can play on my own well enough.”
“I am sorry. I was overwhelmed. The sense of my Father is very strong with the
tablet here.”
“Yeah, about that. Did you understand what Sam said before he passed out?”
Cas closed his eyes and pinched his lips. “They were for me. He said: Forget,
Castiel. Forget your sins, committed in the name of righteous fury, of justice,
sins of terror and spilled blood. Forget.”
“God spoke through Sammy?” Dean’s eyes bulged and he clenched his fists.
Soulless he was bad. Lucifer riding shotgun was scary. Speaking God’s words?
Fuck.
Cas shook his head slightly. “It is complicated. The tablet is meant to enhance
the powers of a true prophet. Its knowledge is meant to be gleaned from years
of hard study combined with the gift of God’s good will. Sam was not born a
prophet and he somehow fused the essence of the tablet with his own soul. The
words may have been his own, spoken with conviction enough to activate the
tablet or they may have been channeled through him because of the tablet’s
connection to God.”
“That was a lot of words just to say we’re screwed. We gotta undo whatever Sam
did.”
“Ag.” The word echoed through the room, barely louder than a whisper but
somehow deafening, anyway.
Everyone whipped around to watch Sam rise from the bed. His eyes were shining
with white light, his movements mechanical. “Iadnahmad - abaramig”
“Sam,” Cas spoke firmly. “We will find another way to fight. This is not the
way.”
The light grew stronger, blinding. “Darbeis, nocore.”
All color drained from Castiel’s face. “Yes, Father.”
“Ag. Sam. Bial de Yahve.” The light faded from Sam’s eyes and his voice came
out less formidable. “I am my own person, still.” Sam blinked and looked
around. “Guys. What’s going on?”
Dean grabbed Sam’s face between his hands, staring him down. “You’re an idiot,
that’s what’s going on. The hell were you thinking, playing around with that
thing?” He pointed to the tablet in Sam’s left hand.
Sam’s forehead creased. “I can’t hear you.”
Dean gaped at him and let go. “Don’t start, bitch. I’m telling you, bleeding on
powerful objects is on the shitlist from now on.”
Sam shook his head as if clearing it. “Dean, I can see your mouth moving but I
can’t hear anything. Tell me you’re messing with me. Please?”
Dean spun and slammed his fist into the nearest wall, putting a substantial
dent in the plaster. “God dammit, Sammy.”
Caitlin wordlessly handed him the mandatory motel notepad and pen.
Dean’s shoulders slumped and he wrote with fast, jerky movements.
DID YOU KNOW?
He held the paper up for Sam to read.
Sam frowned. “Know what, Dean?”
WHAT WOULD HAPPEN
Sam shook his head. “It was sort of a spur of the moment thing. I’m not sure
why I even thought to do it, really. It just popped into my head and I figured
it couldn’t hurt to try.” Sam looked even more confused at his own words.
“That’s not my usual MO, is it?”
“Hell no,” Dean said before remembering himself and shaking his head.
Sam simply shrugged. “Well, I know what to do about the Leviathans now. They’ll
be easy to deal with if they’re without leadership. Let’s take Dick Roman down
and we can worry about the rest later.”
Dean’s eyes widened. He pursed his lips and nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Later,
Samantha. Numbskull. Geekboy. You sure about that?”
Sam pinched his lips together and tilted his head. “If you think I don’t know
when you’re calling me derogatory names just from looking at you, you’re not as
smart as I thought.”
Dean answered him with a lopsided smirk and a wink. Then he wrote another
question.
HOW DO WE SQUASH THE DICK SMART-ASS?
Sam opened his mouth to answer but stopped when Dean’s head whipped around at
the sound of a knock on the door.
Charlie was about to open when Dean stopped her. “Wait.” He pulled his gun out
and leaned against the wall next to the door. “Who’s there,” he shouted.
“Morgan. Got a favor to ask.”
Dean nodded at Charlie who opened the door. When Morgan didn’t immediately
enter, Dean stepped forward, gun cocked and ready. He raised an eyebrow at the
sight of a short, curvy blonde next to Morgan, gaping up at him with horror.
“Paranoid much?” Morgan sighed.
“Keeps me alive. Wash up, both of you.”
Caitlin appeared behind Dean and tossed a small container with soap to Morgan.
Morgan promptly rubbed some soap on his hands before turning to the blonde.
“I’ll explain later, Penny. Just put this on and he’ll put the gun away, okay.”
Garcia was still staring at Dean. “What’s Agent Smith doing here?” she asked in
a small voice.
Morgan frowned. “That’s Dean Winchester.”
Garcia shook her head violently. “No. That’s Agent Smith, the guy who’s picture
has replaced Winchester’s. You said you’d give me answers, Derek. This is not
answers.”
Looking mystified, Morgan simply smeared some soap on Garcia’s wrist.
When nothing happened, Dean put the safety back on and tucked his gun away.
“Sorry. Can’t be too careful. What did you want from us? We’re kind of in the
middle of something.”
“Oh. Well, Garcia here, she helped me a lot when Caitlin went missing at first.
And with all the stuff that you’ve been messing around with these past few
days, she felt she needed to know what was going on. I can’t say that I blame
her.”
“So what, you just thought you’d bring another FBI agent to our doorstep and
trust us to be convincing?” Dean scowled.
“I told her the basics. But I can’t explain why she’s apparently seeing someone
else when you look perfectly normal to me - and thanks for nearly giving me a
heart attack, just walking into the interview yesterday, by the way. So yeah, I
was hoping you’d help me with that one before she tattles that someone hacked
into the CIA’s files. And since when did Sam start a cyber crime career?”
Dean ran a hand over his eyes tiredly. “Fuck it. Fuck my life. Fuck me for
sounding like an emo goth kid. Just get in, you two.” He stepped aside and
motioned for Morgan and Garcia to enter.
Chapter End Notes
     The Enochian words are:
     Ag = No
     Iadnahmad - abaramig = knowledge - preparation (roughly translated)
     Darbeis, nocore = Obey, servant (roughly translated)
     Bial de Yahve = Voice of God (roughly translated)
***** Allies and a Plan *****
Chapter Notes
     I did it. And it came easier than the last chapter. I can do this. I
     can :D
“Woah,” Charlie said, eyeing the newcomers. “Getting crowded in here.”
Sam raised a questioning eyebrow at Dean, who picked up the notebook and wrote:
MORGAN’S FRIEND KNOWS AB. CIA HACK. NEEDS TO KNOW THE TRUTH.
Sam frowned. “Could you be a bit more specific? I mean not that I’m against the
whole truth and nothing but it would just take a lot of time, you know.” He
shrugged apologetically at Garcia.
She was gaping. “That’s Sam Winchester.”
Derek put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Yes, Penny.”
She glanced at the notebook, Dean was scribbling in furiously. “Why is he doing
that?”
Charlie answered. “Because Sam can’t hear anything. He pulled some magic trick
and now he rambles crazy stuff half the time and his eyes glow.”
“Who are you?” Morgan asked her, eyes bugging.
“I’m Charlie. For now. Definitely changing my name and birthdate when this is
over.” Charlie nodded to herself. “I could be a Kim, couldn’t I? Or maybe
Denise, that’s a nice name isn’t it?”
Caitlin put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “I like Charlie. You’re babbling, by
the way,” she said with a small smile.
“Sorry.” Charlie nodded, rolled her shoulders and hugged herself. “I get
nervous every time the a… Castiel does that thing, you know. And the last hour
has been a lot for me.” Charlie took some time to really stare at Caitlin.
“Seriously, how can you be so calm?”
Caitlin squeezed Charlie’s arm and giggled. “I’ve had weeks of practice. You
should have seen me after I met my first ghost.” She looked around and noted
that Charlie was right: Cas had disappeared at some point, probably at the
knock on the door.
Caitlin shared a smile with Charlie as they watched Garcia sputter and
eventually snap: “Have you all gone completely and collectively insane?”
Dean snorted. “I wish.”
Mogan rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. With a sigh, he turned to Dean.
“Could you start with the identity confusion, please?”
“Easy. Cas, I mean Castiel, the Angel of Thursday, put an optic illusion on me
so I could help Caitlin at the interview. It only works on people who don’t
know me. That’s why you see my usual pretty face and she sees something else.”
Morgan’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Did you say angel? I didn’t think you
believed in that, what did you call it back then? Religious crap?”
Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… that was before the
apocalypse.” At Morgan’s incredulous expression, Dean continued: “The biblical
one, I mean. There was a shit storm of angels and a prophet and Lucifer walked
the earth. Tons of fun. Cas helped shut it down.”
“I think we should meet and catch up a bit more often,” Morgan said.
Dean looked out the window. “Na, man. Not much to tell, anyway.”
“Dean.” Caitlin had snuck under his arm and wrapped an arm around him.
“Please?”
“No!” Dean scowled at her but didn’t move away from her. “It’s over. No one
wants to hear about that shit.”
“I do.”
“You really, really don’t, Caitie.”
“Why?”
Helplessly, Caitlin watched Dean shot down completely and turn to Garcia.
“Listen, Sweetheart, I’d love to plead my questionable sanity to you all day
but we were kind of in the middle of planning the next big boss fight. Talk to
the others, observe, form your own opinion, got it?”
Garcia nodded dumbly, mouth hanging open, eyes following Dean as he turned to
Sam and picked up the notebook and pointed at his last question.
Sam answered calmly: “We need the bone of a saint, dipped in the blood of an
angel and the blood of a demon. Then we melt down Bobby’s flask and cover the
tip in that.”
“But Bobby’s tethered to the flask. That would destroy his soul.” Dean had
forgotten that Sam couldn’t hear but apparently, that wasn’t a problem this
time.
Sam’s eyes began to glow and his voice echoed. “No. It will send his soul to
Heaven where it belongs. The hate and spite and thirst for revenge that has
already begun to eat at Bobby’s spirit will be the shackle that binds Roman to
his vessel.”
The glow faded and Sam spoke normally, once again. “When he’s bound to the
vessel, we can behead him, douse him in borax, and bury pieces of him all over
the continent.”
Dean was about to protest some more when Bobby showed up to simply nod his head
twice, face serene and almost smiling, before fading away again.
In the background, Charlie and Garcia both squeaked.
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, shook his head slightly and took a deep
breath before squaring his shoulders. “Won’t the other Leviathans try to put
him back together?”
Sam pointed impatiently at the notebook and Dean grumbled about inconsistent
deafness as he scribbled the words.
Sam read the question and shrugged. “Probably. But as more and more of them
suffer the same fate it will be mighty difficult for them to find the right
pieces, don’t you think?”
Dean nodded with a smirk. “I guess.” A worry line appeared on his forehead. “I
just wish we could do something more permanent.”
“No,” Sam said, looking sad and exhausted. “You really, really don’t.”
Meanwhile, Garcia had listened, had analyzed what she heard and compared it to
what Morgan had already told her. It was crazy, crazy and scary and impossible
but it was true. Every word, every scary detail, glowing eyes and ghosts
included, it all added up. She stared at the men in front of her and something
seemed to shimmer and break.
“You’re Dean Winchester,” she blurted when the face of Agent Dean Smith morphed
into the well-known outlaw.
He raised his head quickly from the notepad he was scribbling on, to grin at
her and give her a thumbs up sign.
Garcia turned to Morgan. “That’s Dean Winchester.”
Morgan nodded, expression cautious.
“That’s Dean Winchester and that’s Sam Winchester and it sounds like they’re
plotting to kill the richest man in the US.”
Morgan nodded again and bit his lip.
“I knew that guy was bad news.” Garcia ignored Morgan’s baffled look and turned
to Charlie. “Nice work at the CIA. If you do another mock-attack they’ll
restart their systems and the changes you made will be untraceable.”
“Thanks,” Charlie gushed. “I wanted to but I didn’t have enough juice to pull
the diversions needed. All I had was that one.” She pointed to the laptop bag
resting in a corner.
Garcia’s eyes widened. “You hacked CIA with just a laptop?”
Charlie blushed. “I just went through their standard gateways instead of going
through the firewall.”
Garcia frowned. “Then you’d have to know the correct username and password for
someone with a lot of clearance.”
Charlie shrugged. “It’s not my fault the director hadn’t changed it since I
hacked them the last time.”
“Last time?” Garcia quirked an eyebrow at Charlie.
“A couple of days ago I found some pretty unbelievable information about my
boss, Dick Roman. I still had my own stuff then so I checked FBI, NSA,
Interpol, Home Security, CIA and fucking NASA for confirmation. They’re all
clueless, by the way.”
Garcia nodded, her expression saying how could you expect different when Dean
interrupted.
“Listen up, Ladies.” He smirked at Morgan and continued. “We’ve got a recipe
for Leviathan soup. You can run along or help us with the grocery list. Choice
is yours.”
“I’ll help if I can,” Caitlin immediately said.
“What she said,” Charlie nodded.
“If there’s anything I can do when I’m off duty,” Morgan said and thrust his
hip out while putting his hand on it, thoroughly embracing his newfound title
as a lady just to mess with Dean.
“As long as I can hide behind a screen and do my real job, too,” Garcia
declared.
Dean looked at all of them one by one, an unspoken question in his eyes. “You
sure about that? Really?”
“Of course we want to help.” Caitlin smiled at his stunned expression. “We’re
glad you asked us.”
He nodded, still perplexed. “Okay. Um, right. We need a box from a storage room
in New York containing a human femur of a saintified nun.”
As Dean drew in a breath to continue the list, Cas showed up by the door,
holding an old wooden box. “The femur of Katharine Drexel, as requested.”
While Garcia and Morgan stood speechless, Dean walked over to accept the box.
“Thanks, Cas. Boy, that was fast. Could you, you know. I mean, do you mind
bleeding a bit for us again?”
Cas gave Dean a fond smile. “Gladly, my friend.” He seemed to conjure a glass
from thin air and as they watched it filled with blood. He offered it to Dean
who fumbled a bit with the wooden box before dumping it in Caitlin’s arms.
Dean took the blood filled glass. “Thank you.” He looked around and zeroed in
on the room’s mini fridge. Carefully putting the blood inside, he stood and
looked at the notebook again.
“Okay, next is some demon blood and then we need to find somewhere remote and
get a nice hot fire going.” He held a hand over his pocket, trembling slightly.
“Finally, we need to figure out a way to get Roman out in the open with minimum
security.”
Charlie and Garcia exchanged looks.
“Leave that to us,” Charlie smirked.
“Okay. Great. I guess all we need is demon blood, then, before going on a
picnic. That was… easier than expected.”
Dean scratched out the items on the list already accounted for and showed it to
Sam, who nodded.
Sam left the room shortly, then came back with the spray paint from his duffel.
Wordlessly he shooed everyone away from the largest free space and painted a
devil’s trap on the floor.
“Do you know what he’s doing?” Caitlin whispered to Dean.
Dean scowled. “If I’m not mistaken he’s going to summon a demon. Bloody show-
off. Let’s get everyone out of here.”
Just then, Sam started chanting, the latin flowing from his lips quickly and
effortlessly.
Dean ordered everyone to relocate to the small room next door, offering no
explanations as to why. As soon as he could, he returned to stand by Sam’s
side.
Within minutes, a young dark-haired woman appeared in the devil’s trap, looking
scared and confused.
“Meg,” Sam smirked. “Long time no see. Are you up for some fun?”
“Why, Sammy, my boy,” the demon drawled back at him, all signs of fear quickly
hidden away. “Have you changed your mind about me?”
Sam rolled his eyes and gestured at Dean to continue the conversation.
“I’m pretty sure Sam always thought you looked your best bloody, Meg.” He held
up an empty water bottle. “But this time, all you have to do is bleed this half
full. Then we’ll let you go.”
Meg cackled in disbelief. “Right. Just give you my blood like it holds no power
over me whatsoever and then you’ll let me simply waltz right out of here? Try
again, Deano, and cut the bullshit this time.”
“Give us your blood so we can kill Dick Roman and we’ll exorcise you back to
hell and you can crawl back out. You’re good at that, aren’t you?”
“No. If I do this, you let me fucking go. I won’t bother you but I’m not going
back to hell.”
“Don’t talk like you’re calling the shots, Meg. We can just take it instead.”
Dean drew a knife from his boot and tested its edge to demonstrate what he
meant.
She tilted her head and looked at him, looked through him. As she opened her
mouth to speak, undoubtedly the usual vile psychological crap mixture of truths
and lies that demons were masters of, Sam coughed. Her eyes slid sideways and
she recoiled in horror. Saying nothing else, she looked pleadingly at Dean.
He tossed the bottle into the trap with a smirk.
Meg curled in on herself as far from Sam as she could get and used a long
fingernail to open a vein. She collected the blood in the bottle and rolled it
back to Dean.
She gave Sam another scared glance and steeled herself.
Dean opened his mouth to start the exorcism.
Meg looked up at him, a strange vulnerability in her expression. “Say hi to
Clarence for me,” she said.
Dean stood, dumbstruck, suddenly reminded of one of the weirdest things he had
witnessed in a lifetime of weird. Meg kissing Cas back then to steal his blade
had made sense but Cas… Cas had kissed her back, fervently so.
“Why don’t you tell him yourself,” Dean muttered, suddenly convinced that the
angel was there, unseen.
Cas appeared as expected. With a sigh, he stepped across the boundary of the
sigil and offered his hand to Meg. “I will take her somewhere far from here.”
Dean bit his tongue to keep from arguing how wrong being considerate to a demon
was. Sam stood impassively next to him and when Dean chanced a look at him, he
was bleeding from his ear again. When he looked back at the trap, it was empty.
***** Revenge of the Techies *****
WE KNOW HOW TO TAKE OUT DICK - LET’S FIND A WAY TO GET YOU BACK TO NORMAL.
“No. You have no idea how much knowledge I have ready access to right now,
Dean. Faster than the Internet and so much more powerful. Not being able to
hear is a tiny price to pay, okay?”
WE DON’T KNOW IF THAT’S THE ONLY PRICE. BITCH.
Sam chuckled. “True. But fuck, Dean, even if the price is my life, it’s worth
it.”
Dean stood and ran a hand over his mouth. He shook his head. “No, dammit.
Nothing is worth that. He took in the stubborn set of Sam’s mouth and sighed.
He raised a finger at his little brother. “This discussion is not over.”
Sam met Dean’s glare with a stony expression. “Whatever you just said, this
discussion is over. You can help me get back to normal the day I’ve transferred
this knowledge to a database and not a second sooner.”
Dean threw his arms up and left, slamming the door behind him.
Outside in the hallway, he could hear the chatter from Sam’s room. Unprepared
to face Caitlin’s worry, the tech girls’ geekspeak, and Morgan’s likely
questions about what to do next, Dean went outside to the parking lot.
He kicked the tires of the piece of shit car they had driven in. He got behind
the wheel and pulled out Bobby’s old flask. Instead of drinking, he put it on
the passenger seat.
“Are you really okay with us melting that thing and sending you topward?”
Bobby showed up in the seat next to him. Dean rubbed his hands together against
the cold.
“I ain’t gonna lie, I’d feel better ‘bout it if we could undo whatever Sam did
first. But yeah, I’m okay with it.”
“He won’t listen to me.”
“You’re the only one he’ll ever listen to. He’ll come ‘round, Dean.”
Dean didn’t say anything. He had his hands on the wheel as if driving, fingers
drumming unconsciously against the hard plastic. He glanced sideways at Bobby,
colorless and more transparent than ever in the sunlight.
“I’ll miss you.”
Bobby snorted. “Son, I’m already dead. I can’t whack your head for being an
idjit, anyway.”
Dean nodded his agreement and swallowed hard. “Right. Bobby, I…”
“I’m gonna stop ya right there before you go ‘n embarrass us both. C’mon, kid,
you know ya don’t hafta say it.”
Dean met Bobby’s eyes and nodded again. “Thanks.”
“Now git, son. I believe you have an old friend waiting to be avenged.” Bobby
disappeared.
Still, it was a while before Dean moved.
                                     XOXOX
Caitlin watched Dean sitting in the car. She didn’t like how lost he looked.
They had a plan, had everything they needed to set it in motion. Why wasn’t he
in here, yelling at them to get moving?
The door to the room opened to reveal Sam. He stood in the doorway, regarding
every person in the room for long seconds. “We’ve got everything,” he finally
said. “We should get started.”
Sam pointed at Charlie and Garcia. “You two, work your magic, get Dick Roman
out in the open sometime tomorrow, okay?”
The girls nodded silently.
Sam looked at Morgan. “I know nonhuman monsters aren’t your forte but I trust
you to have their backs, got it?”
Morgan gave a curt nod.
“Caitlin you can stay with the others or come with us. But I warn you. Dean’s
gonna be a mess and he probably won’t want you to see.”
Caitlin looked out the window. Dean was resting his forehead against the
steering wheel. “I’ll come with you but I’ll stay in the car while you work.”
Sam nodded as if he’d understood and left. Caitlin scrambled to follow, waving
a quick goodbye to the others.
                                     XOXOX
They had built the fire unnecessarily high. It wasn’t a matter of practicality,
of course.
As the flask turned liquid, one of the three men watching was consumed by the
flames.
The other two continued to sharpen one end of the bone they had brought,
determined and silent. They dipped it in Cas’ blood first and then Megs. Then
they pulled the pot with liquid silver out of the fire and took their time,
submerging the tip of the weapon into the molten silver and letting it cool
until they had to reheat the remaining silver and continue.
After it was done, they were both sweaty and squinting against the heat and
firelight and it was easy to pretend that was the sole reason for their wet
faces and red eyes.
Caitlin, huddled under a blanket in the car against the increasing cold,
exchanging regular updates with Charlie, didn’t call them on it when they
finally returned to the car.
It was dark when they drove back to the motel and during the entire drive, no
one said a single word. Somehow, the car was emptier than it had been when they
drove the other way.
                                     XOXOX
“Okay, you’re both grinning like cats eating canaries. Or in this case,
canaries eating cats. What did you do?” Dean crossed his arms and pinned
Charlie and Garcia with an expectant look.
“Us? Not much.” Charlie kept grinning, though.
“We might have leaked all Frank’s evidence and speculations on mind controlling
food additives and pointed out that Roman Enterprise’s recently acquired
ownership of SucroCorp.” Garcia snickered. “The vegans and GMO haters are
livid, planning to meet up in front of SucroCorp at noon tomorrow for a bigass
protest.”
Dean clenched his fists. “We can’t let that happen.” His voice rose. “What the
hell were you thinking? It’s too damn dangerous and those people have no idea
what they’re risking.”
Instead of looking chastised and contrite, Charlie continued to smirk. “What
people?”
Garcia giggled and clapped Charlie’s back. “See, the information is not really
out there for everyone to see. But if your IP-address happens to belong to
Roman Enterprise, it’s a different story. Then you can access a bogus blog,
fake news articles, read posts shared millions of times on facebook, petitions,
protest plans, and comments from hundreds of thousands of people ready to fight
for their right to undrugged food.”
Charlie nodded. “It’s all an elaborate virtual reality just for Roman’s people.
Google ads will help make sure they see it. They’ll be expecting an angry mob,
use extra manpower on security, and Dick will want to talk to the press and try
to clear things up.”
“Okay.” Dean breathed easier and relaxed his hands. “I still don’t see how that
makes him accessible to us. They know what we look like. It’s not like we can
ask him for an interview.”
“You’re right,” Charlie said. “The fake protest is a diversion, a way to
stretch his resources. On the way to SucroCorp, he will receive a message from
a hospital a few hours away, that the Winchesters have been killed in a car
crash. We’ll time it so it looks like you were going to the protest, they'll
think you leaked the info and planned to do something at the event. He’ll be
close by. He’ll think you had the tablet you stole from him with you and he’ll
go to the crash site to retrieve it. He’ll have a driver and a couple of
bodyguards. You pick the battleground, you set up traps, you take the extras
out quickly.”
Dean thought it through. There was a lot of maybes and what ifs. Well, that’s
the Winchester way, right? He nodded at the girls. “Okay, ladies. Keep grinning
all you want. I’m gonna wait until Dick’s dead.”
Their smiles fell at that. Dean shuffled his feet a bit before adding: “You did
really good. I had no idea it was possible to filter information that way. It’s
clever.”
                                     XOXOX
Sam watched Dean talk to the others. His ears were full of strange words of
power, softly spoken in a golden timbre, quiet as falling snow and roaring as a
hurricane, all at once, drowning out everything else.
There was pressure behind his eyelids, an ache in his skull.
Sometimes, he would forget when and where he was and drift, his awareness
untethered from his body, through countless worlds, time ever changing and
always the same, his mind battered by concepts as eternal, infinite,
omnipotence.
I am Sam Winchester. I need to stop the Leviathan creatures from taking over
the earth, 2007 AD. I am Sam Winchester. He couldn’t even hear his inner voice
inside his head, as he tried to anchor himself. Dean. Dean worries too much.
The room fell away and became a dark night sky, tiny lights far away coming
closer at great speed. Burning giants dancing their intricate dance, sometimes
exploding, sometimes growing masses igniting from the press and heat of
bazillions of tiny particles. Sam gasped and blinked furiously, returning to
the room. Maybe not too much.
“Hey, Sammy. You okay?”
Sam didn’t need to hear to know what Dean was asking him. He nodded as
convincingly as he could. I just have to hold on until tomorrow, at least. When
Roman’s gone, maybe, I’ll think about severing the link.
Dean held up the notebook, explaining the plan.
“We should make some explosives. Preferably something that spreads borax,” Sam
suggested.
Dean nodded and wrote something.
MOLOTOVS, CALTROPS, GRENADE LAUNCHER
Sam couldn’t help it, he threw back his head and laughed. How long had Dean
wanted a grenade launcher? How many times had he suggested they use one? Well,
last year they had gotten their hands on one but they hadn’t had a reason to
use it yet.
“Sounds fair,” Sam said, wiping tears from his eyes and shaking his head fondly
at Dean’s excited grin.
                                     XOXOX
Sam didn’t have to pray to call Castiel. He could sense him, sense God’s grace,
thousands of unique specs of divinity spread across the earth, resting and
scheming in Heaven. All he had to do was reach out with his own essence and tap
Castiel’s ephemeral shoulder.
Wings rustled, loud enough that Sam could hear. No one else reacted, though.
“Sam?” There was a subservient tint to Cas’ tone and posture.
“Cas, I thought I’d keep you updated on our plans. Maybe you have something to
add to them.”
                                     XOXOX
They all ate together at a restaurant downtown. After reluctantly approving
their plan of attack for the next day, Cas had put the same illusion on Sam as
Dean. The FBI were still in town and once it was time to go after Roman, they
couldn’t risk Sam being recognized as a wanted criminal.
Being deaf meant that Sam couldn’t follow the conversation and missed Dean and
Morgan's 'make the most horrible pun-war', Cas’ clueless questions, Charlie and
Garcia’s geeky arsenal of dry wit and science humor. He could, however, watch
their smiles, the way they all shook with laughter. He saw Caitlin, sitting
next to Dean, eyes shining with warmth as she watched him eat. Dean eating. Sam
smirked to himself. She’s a keeper, brother mine.
Dean stuffed another slice of pie in his face. This place was more expensive
than what they normally treated themselves to and for once, the pie was
actually worth the extra five dollars.
Charlie raised her glass and cleared her throat. “On behalf of my peers and
just this once, on behalf of everyone else, I propose a toast to Dick. I mean
to slay Dick.”
Garcia sputtered and coughed as she started laughing while sipping her frilly
drink.
Caitlin smiled. “You’re a savage, Charlie.”
Charlie grinned back at her. “Like you wouldn’t be on my side if Mr. Bad Boy
With A Heart Of Gold hadn’t gotten to you first.” She winked at Caitlin and
licked her lips, slow and deliberate.
“Okay, you’ve had enough. Morgan, cut her off the good stuff,” Caitlin said,
cheeks heating up. She risked a sideways glance at Dean, surprised to find him
looking at her, lips pursed, a worry wrinkle on his forehead.
The general conversation around the table continued but Dean kept his eyes on
Caitlin’s.
“Do you want to come for a ride, later?”
“Where to?” Caitlin bit her lip to keep from saying “On you? Sure.” That’s it.
I’m cutting myself off, right now.
“Tomorrow’s D-day. I don’t wanna go into the final big boss battle without my
Baby.”
At Caitlin’s confused expression, Dean sighed. “My car. My actual, real car.”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe how long you’ve known us and you haven’t
even seen Baby.”
Dean pulled out the notebook and scribbled:
WE’RE DRIVING BABY TOMORROW!
Sam read it and his eyes widened. A slow genuine smile spread across his face.
“Yeah. That feels right.”
CAITLIN AND I WILL GET HER LATER. DO YOU WANT TO COME TOO?
Sam arched his eyebrows at Dean. “Christo.”
Dean merely scowled at him.
“Dean, I’m fine. Not dying, not seeing Satan. I’ll stop feeling like I’ve been
thrown into a parallel dimension as soon as you stop babying me and act like my
pain-in-the-ass big brother. Just go get some quiet time with your girl.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
Sam continued unperturbed: “I know you’re dying to show her off. You’re gonna
touch her everywhere, aren’t you? Like the time you got her back from the pound
after Bela had her towed.”
“Sam, I swear to God, the next time you go three days straight without bleeding
from your ears Imma smack your head so hard you’ll think the visions are back,
you hear?”
“Sorry, bro, can’t hear you.” Sam guffawed at Dean’s look of utter outrage and
frustration.
Eventually, the tension slipped out of Dean. The corners of his mouth twitched
and soon he was laughing along with Sam.
***** Hot and Cold *****
The night was clear, the milky way a bright blur above them, as they drove
west. Dean hummed to himself, a smirk firmly in place as he sped across the
state.
Caitlin divided her attention between the spark of anticipation in his eyes and
the starry sky. She recognized the tune he hummed as Ramble On. “What happens
after tomorrow?”
Dean glanced at her, good mood forgotten. “If we survive, you mean?”
Caitlin had her hands on her thighs and she squeezed them so hard her nails bit
into her skin. “Yeah.”
“Whatever happens, you keep talking to Morgan and his team. You help them put
those bastards behind bars.”
“But what about…”
“Then you figure out what you want from life and you grab it. Go back to
Seattle, become a doctor. Buy a turkey farm. Do what you dream.” Dean kept his
eyes on the road as he spoke, his voice gruff.
“What about you?”
“I’m a hunter. I’m gonna hunt.” He threw her a quick smile. “It’s the family
business.”
The car was quiet for long minutes. Dean went back to humming, sometimes
singing the words. Only as he reached the end of the song did Caitlin realize
he was changing the lyrics.
“Gonna ramble on, sing my song, gotta keep slaying evil
Gonna work my way ‘round the world, until something stops the beating of my
heart.
Taking good care of my baby. I gotta save the world.”
His eyes were on the road, fingers drumming against the wheel, that expectant
smile back in place.
Caitlin swallowed against the lump in her throat and turned to watch the night
fly by through the passenger window. Addition to the old saying about men being
either full of shit or taken: Sometimes they’re perfect and single and
completely obsessed with being fucking heroes and getting themselves bloody
killed. She wiped her tears away as if simply rubbing her eyes, lacking sleep.
Why do I even care. It’s not like I’ve got anything to offer him. It’s not like
I ever wanted someone by my side. Caitlin closed her eyes but her tears escaped
anyway.
                                     XOXOX
Sam had convinced Cas to help him gather supplies and teleport the two of them
into a high school lab. They were testing their fourth attempt at a Molotov
containing borax.
“Maybe we should use tar instead of oil,” Sam mused.
“Maybe we could try distilled alcohol instead of gasoline,” Cas suggested.
Sam sighed. “It’s gonna be a long night.”
Cas nodded. “It would have been useful if Father had put more knowledge of
battling Leviathans into his work.”
Sam stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide. “Cas.”
“Yes, Sam?”
“Never, ever, ever, tell Dean we wasted over an hour of our time before I did
this.”
Cas nodded solemnly as Sam closed his eyes and let his mind surge through the
divine words written on his soul.
Minutes later, Sam gasped and blinked against the harsh lights in the lab.
“Salt. Borax is a salt.” He went to the supply cupboards and rummaged through
them until he found what he was looking for. He smiled. “We mix borax crystals
with rock salt and then we make our usual shotgun shells. I can’t wait to see
the surprise on their faces when the pain sets in.”
                                     XOXOX
Dean pulled the tarp from the Impala with a grand gesture, torn between
monitoring Caitlin’s reaction and taking in the sleek, black lines of his Baby,
finally.
“She’s beautiful.” Caitlin watched Dean run his hands over the smooth surface.
Lucky Luke and Jolly Jumper, Han Solo and the Millennium Falcon, Michael Knight
and KITT. Dean and Baby.
“Look,” Dean said, opening the passenger door and pointing. “We carved our
initials there when we were like nine and four. Dad was livid.”
The letters D.W. and S.W. were carved in clumsy capital letters. Caitlin looked
askance from Dean and opened the door at his nod to run her fingers over the
scratches.
“How old is she?” The pronoun slipped in easily. Baby wasn’t just a well-kept
classic. She had something undefinable, qualifying her as more than a mere
object - even if she lacked actual sentience.
“She’s a ‘67. Dad bought her in ‘73. She’s been in the family ever since.” Dean
smiled fondly as he slid behind the wheel with a deep satisfied sigh. “I missed
you so much, Baby.” He stroked the soft, worn leather seat, caressed the wheel
reverently. He grinned at Caitlin. “Get in, let’s take her for a spin.”
There was an impression in the seat’s padding on the passenger side. Caitlin
ran her hands along its sides as she sat in the center. Sam-shaped.
Dean turned the key and begged his Baby to be good, even after standing still
for so long. She didn’t let him down. The engine roared to life and Dean
grinned at Caitlin.
He had been driving fast on the way there, but now, with the Impala once again
an extension of himself, he put the pedal to the metal for real, cutting
corners, occasionally drifting through the curves.
Caitlin gripped the edge of her seat and held on. Her pulse quickened and her
breath hitched whenever they entered a curve seemingly too fast to make it.
Dean chuckled at her every time, his hands on the wheel steady and sure,
shoulders relaxed, mouth wide open in a happy grin. Gradually, Caitlin relaxed
her grip and smiled.
“Is there something wrong with the ventilation? It rattles.”
“Nope, it’s just legos. Dad wasn’t too happy about them either.”
Caitlin frowned. “You and Sam played with legos in the car and got them stuck
in the ventilation without your Dad noticing?”
Dean shrugged and slowed down to something resembling the speed limit. “Mom
died when I was four. Dad took up hunting. We were all over the states,
wherever the hunt took him. We stayed run-down motel rooms and condemned houses
when funds ran low. The Impala and Dad were the only constants, you know? She
was home. Still is.”
Dean glanced over to find Caitlin running a hand over the dash, lips pursed in
thought. When she finally met his eyes, he found no pity in them. “Aren’t you
gonna tell me how sorry you are that we grew up like that?”
“You don’t sound sorry.” The ghost of a smile settled across her lips.
“I’m not.” He smiled back at her, swallowing against a sudden tightness in his
throat. She gets it. How can she get it, just like that?
“Good.” Her smile grew wider. Her hand stretched toward him but stopped short
before touching.
Dean caught it in his right hand and tangled their fingers together, resting
against his thigh.
She scooted closer to him, as close as her seatbelt allowed. “Are you scared?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Of what?” He clasped her hand a little tighter. “This?”
“Tomorrow, doofus.” Caitlin’s eyes were wide as she chuckled, low and bitter.
“But I guess I have my answer now, and then some.”
Dean let Baby freewheel and when she had lost enough speed, he pulled her onto
the shoulder of the road. He used his left hand to pull the parking brake. He
turned to Caitlin, serious.
“I really suck at this stuff, Caitie, but I’m pretty sure you got it wrong.”
He opened his mouth to continue and nothing else came out. She watched him,
waited for him to explain, her brown eyes darkened with a mixture of sadness
and anger.
“I’m not good enough for you,” he said. He looked down at their joined hands,
biting his tongue. Not exactly what I meant to say. Is it the whiskey talking?
Fuck, I’m not even a little bit drunk.
Her free hand came up to trace his jawline, rest against his cheek. “Shouldn’t
I be the judge of that?”
He caught her hand and brought it down between them, the touch too gentle, too
intimate. Swallowing, he backtracked to what he had meant to say. “I’ve faced a
lot of big, badass monsters. Me and Sam, we’ve fought often enough with the
odds against us. We’ve faced death and we’re still here, doing our thing. So
while I’m worried about tomorrow, at least I know the drill.”
Dean slowly raised his eyes to Caitlin’s, wide and sincere. “But sitting here,
in this car, holding hands with someone, and it’s not about a quick tour to a
quiet spot for a good time in the back seat, that’s… I shouldn’t do this. I
shouldn’t be doing this.”
A shiver ran through Caitlin. An itch, the need to run and hide and never look
back. Not because he wasn’t good enough, of course he was, he was too good, way
too good. Terror crawled up her spine because this was the point of no return.
She should run, had to, get away, flee. She couldn’t move, frozen with his
hands around hers, his eyes filled with the same terror she felt and… hope.
Trembling, she leaned forward. Dean met her before she got halfway, his lips
soft and warm and hungry.
Dean buried his hands in her hair, sucked her tongue into his mouth to taste
more of her. He made happy, hungry noises deep in his throat, pushed against
her, pulled at her, until she obligingly undid her seatbelt and straddled his
lap. “Mmm,” he groaned, hips thrusting upward, one hand leaving her head to
claw under her shirt, slide over smooth skin, grab and knead.
Caitlin took everything he gave her. The shaking had stopped. Dean’s mouth,
Dean’s hands, Dean’s dick rubbing against her. Nothing else existed. The
fingers behind her head flexing, strong, holding her in place, holding her
close. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, no hesitation, licked over her
teeth, the roof of her mouth, moaned, caught her lower lip between his teeth
and nipped her. Every thrust of his hips ground the seam on her jeans over her
clit, painful and addictive.
She had to grab his head with both hands and pull hard to speak. “Wait.”
Dean blinked, expression dazed and almost hurt, mouth open, panting.
“This doesn’t change anything, does it? Tomorrow you and Sam will still ride
into the sunset, won’t you?”
“I… guess.” Dean gave her pleading look. “Not gonna stop hunting. ‘s the family
business. ‘s all we have left.”
“I’d come with you.”
He stiffened under her, pushed her back, away from his aching cock. “It’s too
dangerous.”
“You’ll visit then, when you’re in the neighborhood?”
Dean looked away, throat working hard. Lisa and Ben were kidnapped because I
cared about them. This is so much worse. “I’m sorry. Caitlin, I’m so sorry. I
shouldn’t have said anything, I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Caitlin’s eyes narrowed. “You just wanted a nice fuck before heading into
battle, then?”
Dean let out a huff of breath, eyes wide and wounded. “I meant every word.” He
closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. “But I should’ve kept my mouth
shut. I can’t care about anyone, I’m poison. Sooner or later you’ll end up dead
because of me.”
“Jesus Christ, Dean, how many times to we have to go through this? I know,
okay? I know that knowing you paints a target on my back and I’m okay with it.
Get it into your stubborn head that you’re worth it. Whatever this is between
us, whatever happens, it’s worth it.”
“No!” Dean pushed Caitlin off and got out of the car.
She followed wordlessly, until he stopped, facing a copse of trees, branches
moving gently in the breeze.
“I don’t know what you see in me but you’re fooling yourself. Whatever this is
between us is gonna kill you, and I… If you knew the things I’ve done, you’d
understand. I’m not worth it, Caitie.”
“Yeah? Then tell me. Tell me so I can let you go. Stop pushing me away and let
me decide what to do.”
Dean scoffed. “What, you want me to just spill the beans, tell you everything
about all my biggest fuck-ups?”
“Yes!”
“Can’t you just trust me on this?”
“If you don’t give me a reason not to stick by you, I’m not gonna stop.”
“Son of a bitch.” He scowled at her. “We don’t actually have all night, you
know.”
She gave him a lopsided smile. “Then start with the worst and work your way
from there.”
Dean drew in a long shuddering breath. “Fine. Fine. I’ll do just that.” He took
a few steps away from her, crossing his arms and watching the trees in the
distance.
“My Dad died because of me. He sold his soul and went to hell to save me. I
hated him for that, for putting that on me. I should’ve been dead and he
should’ve been alive. You’d think I’d learn something from that, right? But
when Sammy died... “ Dean turned to look her dead in the eyes. “...I did the
exact same thing for him. I sold my soul so he could live and when my year was
up, I didn’t even have the good grace to go quietly. I died kicking and
screaming right in front of him.”
Caitlin swallowed. Even after everything, comprehending that hell was real and
coming back from the dead was possible, wasn’t easy.
“They torture you in hell,” Dean continued, looking away again. “They cut you
into a million pieces over and over and mess with your mind. Time moves
differently from here, every month is like a decade.”
“I’m still waiting for the awful stuff that’ll make me hate you.” She put a
hand on his shoulder but he shook it off.
“Every day for thirty years, I was given a choice. They’d stop torturing me if
I’d do to others what they were doing to me.” Dean ran a hand over his face,
moonlight catching wetness before he wiped it away. “I was in hell for four
months, Caitie.”
***** Unbreakable *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm really nervous about posting this. I hope your sympathy for these
     characters is as unbreakable as their feelings for each other are.
     TRIGGER WARNING!!!
     This chapter contains graphic descriptions of noncon and torture.
     This chapter contains graphic noncon of a nontraditional variety and
     does NOT attempt to make light of it!!!
     I don't care who you are, what gender you are. If someone says no,
     stop or be a rapist.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Caitlin did the math. “You… did you?”
Dean heaved a sigh. “Remember that time I came in my sleep and woke up all
flustered?” He turned, eyes burning into her. “You wanna know what I dreamt?”
Caitlin took a step back, mouth open but silent.
Dean stalked her, followed her retreat step by step. “Do you?”
No. Stop. Don’t tell me. Caitlin’s back hit the Impala and Dean put his hands
on its roof, caging her in. “Tell me,” she whispered.
“I whipped you bloody and fucked your mouth. I came while you fought to breathe
and tried to push me away.” His tone was flat and emotionless, his pupils
dilating as he spoke. “I held you by the hair and shoved my dick all the way
down your throat and I knew you didn’t want it, I could feel you fighting me
and it made me feel good.” Dean wet his lips with his tongue, breathing
heavily.
Caitlin shivered under his hungry look. He was hard. Cold dread cramped up her
stomach, her heart racing. His head was close enough that she could slam hers
right into his nose. His stance was wide open, he’d be hard pressed to block a
knee to the groin. He had caged her in but did nothing to impair her freedom of
movement or protect himself. She held still, barely breathing, unblinking.
C’mon, Caitie, kick me in the balls and get the fuck away from me. What are you
waiting for. Abruptly, Dean let go of the car’s roof and stepped back. “Fuck!
What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Caitlin blinked against the sting in her eyes.
Dean threw out his arms and yelled at her. “I just told you I’m as bad as those
brain-dead rat bastards you want to rot up in prison. Stop looking at me like
I’m a person!”
Caitlin snapped. She rounded on Dean in five quick steps, hands on his
shoulders, pushing him back until he was the one cornered against the car. She
stopped, unsure, searching his face, finding nothing but resignation. She shook
her head in disgust and opened the passenger door next to him, her other hand
never leaving his shoulder.
“Get in,” she told him, pushing at him, knocking him on his back across the
leather seat when his balance failed.
She attacked his belt buckle and knocked his hands away when he tried to stop
her. “Hold still. Gonna show you exactly what I think of you,” she muttered.
Not a person? Stupid idiot. She blinked back tears of anger.
Dean froze, eyes wide, heart beating through his throat. A nail scratched over
the sensitive skin when Caitlin pulled out his now mostly flaccid dick. “No,”
he said, voice raw and breaking.
“Shut up.” She put her hands on his hips, holding him down and sucked his soft
cock into her mouth. She fit all of it inside, nose flush against his pelvic
bone and swallowed to get him deeper, massaging him with her tongue.
“Please, not like this. Want you, Caitie, but not like this.”
She continued to suck and swallow around him. His cock filled out slowly,
hardening and reaching further, nudging the back of her throat. He was thicker
than any of the Mitchells and when his cock snaked into her throat proper, she
found herself unable to breathe. She held him for as long as she could, drew
back enough to breathe deeply, and sucked him in again, gagging once, twice,
until his cockhead passed her tonsils.
Dean grabbed her head and pushed her, but she held fast. Desperate, he yanked
at her hair.
Caitlin’s eyes watered from the painful tug. Dean’s cock slipped back a few
inches, and she gagged again. She clamped her teeth down hard enough to scrape
him raw if he kept pulling.
Dean let go, his pained gasp turning into a mix of sobs and moans when she took
all of him again, throat convulsing and squeezing around his oversensitive
cock.
“I’m sorry.” Dean threw a hand across his eyes. “I’m sorry. Please.” Heat and
ice swirled in his gut, bile rose in his throat. Moist warmth clutched his
cock, so good, his balls ached with the need for release. “Stop! Don’t make me,
not again, please.” He drew a ragged breath. “I’ll do anything. Please, stop.”
Caitlin’s world consisted of breathing and swallowing. Sounds didn’t have any
meaning. Not until the meaningless gibberish prodded a memory and she went cold
all over. She released Dean’s cock and at the sight of his tear streaked
cheeks, she gasped, suddenly dizzy, mouth dry yet sick to her stomach. He
continued begging her to stop, just stop, please, I’ll do anything, stop.
“God, Dean, I’m sorry.” She crawled in next to him, crouching in the footwell,
tracing a shaking hand along his jawline. “Shit.” She bowed her head and rested
it against his shoulder, expecting him to push her away any second.
Dean’s words trailed off. He didn’t acknowledge Caitlin’s presence or touch,
eyes closed, breathing ragged.
For a long time, neither of them spoke, silence thick and heavy between them.
Eventually, Dean cleared his throat, his voice coming out deceptively normal.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing.”
Caitlin nodded. Dean pulled his legs fully inside and she shut the door. The
windows immediately fogged over.
“Crap.” Dean scooted over to the driver’s side and turned on the engine,
boosting the heater to maximum. Throwing Caitlin a shy glance, he tucked his
dick back in his pants.
Dean stared at the foggy windshield, his fingers curled around the wheel. His
knee bounced up and down in a staccato rhythm. Just a little more visibility
and they could take off.
“Dean, I don’t know what to say. I’m so, so fucking sorry.”
“Hm?” He spared her a glance, his eyes devoid of emotion.
“I didn’t know. I should’ve known. God, you must hate me so much.” Caitlin
fought her tears furiously.
Dean looked at her again, frowning. “Why?”
“You told me to stop and I didn’t. I… I thought you were worried about me, I
didn’t know you’d… Christ, I rape-”
“-Don’t!” Dean held up a finger between them, eyes fixed on the windshield.
“Don’t you fucking say that.”
“But it’s true. Textbook definition true. God, you told me you were as bad as
them and I wanted to show you how you’re not. You’re not, Dean. I am.” She
covered her face with her hands and breathed as evenly as she could, stifling
the sobs she had no right to let out.
Dean shook his head slowly. His eyes went soft when he looked at Caitlin’s
huddled form next to him. He spoke low and gentle: “The hell were you thinking
my dick down your throat was gonna prove anyway?”
“That I’m not afraid of you.” Caitlin breathed in slowly, met his eyes and
willed her voice to stay clear. “The things you did in hell, the dreams that
haunt you and make you hard… They don’t matter here and now.”
At his incredulous expression, she continued, gesticulating: “They’re part of
your past and they influence the way you feel and experience things now but
they don’t define you.” She bit her lip and looked away, breath hitching. “I’ll
never be afraid of you.”
“And likewise, okay?” Dean sighed. “C’mere.” He wrapped an arm around her
shoulders and pulled her close to him, warmth spreading through him when she
melted into his side.
Half his mind was still trapped in the memories. “I lied to myself at first,”
Dean found himself saying. He cut himself off, closing his mouth with a snap.
Caitlin slowly snaked her arms around his middle, face still hidden against his
side.
Dean hugged her tighter and the words poured out of him in a rush, unfiltered.
“I convinced myself the souls I hurt deserved it, that I was dealing out
justice. Alastair eased me into it, telling me about the horrible things my
‘customers’ had done. Stories about folks like those sick puppies you grew up
with. I… Demons lie, but sometimes they tell the truth. But only if the truth
messes more with your head than lies. Turns out he was telling the truth about
Sam, but… I let him turn me into a monster when part of me knew he was lying.”
“You stopped. You did what you had to in that place and when you came back you
stopped.”
Dean barked a short laugh, harsh and bitter. “Is that what you think?” He shook
his head. “No, I’m still everyone’s favorite blunt little instrument. First,
the angels came.” He made his voice lighter, sounding like a spoiled child.
“Someone’s killing angels and this vile demon won’t tell us who, use your
special skills to make him talk.” He snorted. “Turns out it was angels killing
angels.”
He rubbed a hand across his forehead. ”Then it was Sam and his obsession with
stopping Lilith from breaking the seals and unleashing Lucifer. Whenever we
captured a demon we’d torture it for information. Mostly it was okay, the meat
suits dead already but sometimes, there was a person in there, suffering along
with the demon. And I didn’t care. It was all about saving the world, yadda
yadda, greater good and all that crap. But I got a rush out of it every time.”
Caitlin tensed. “Did you ever hurt a human to get that rush?”
“No,” Dean breathed. “No, of course not.”
She looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed from crying. “Then I’m still not afraid
of you.”
“But I-”
“Sssh.” Caitlin laid a finger across Dean’s lips. “You gotta forgive yourself.
You gotta accept you’re still a good man even if you brought some darkness with
you back from hell.”
“No. I let it in. I wasn’t strong enough. I should've never said yes to
Alastair.”
“Why did you?”
Dean pinched his lips and looked out the window. “For stupid reasons.” He ran a
hand over his face. “Dignity, pride, don’t know what else to call it.”
Caitlin’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“I can’t explain it. Look, this isn’t something I talk about, okay. It’s better
left alone.”
“Okay. Then I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t hurt anyone, whatever they
deserved, because of pride.” She smiled lopsidedly. “I still say you’re good.”
“You’re gonna stalk me forever, aren’t you?” He pressed his lips to her
forehead, sighing and rolling his eyes.
“No, I promise I’ll leave you alone if you ask me nicely.”
Dean chuckled and closed his eyes. He took deep breaths, chest muscles
constricting against the knots and butterflies inside of him. “I could deal
with the pain. The way it felt when they had ripped me into a million pieces
and every one of them was in burning agony. I could deal with the way it felt
when they put me back together and made that first new cut. It didn’t hurt at
all in comparison but it was so focused.”
Dean’s hand rested on her bicep and as he spoke, he gripped around it,
tightening his hold with every word. “When ten years had passed and Alastair
said we should celebrate, I…I thought I might crack. But I learned to shut out
the humiliation and focus on the pain and soon those days were no worse than
the rest. I guess it was around twenty years the hellhounds…” He shuddered
violently. “But I got through. Just a more creative way of tearing me apart, I
guess.”
He paused and released Caitlin’s arm with a bashful look. “The day I failed, no
one hurt me. Nothing hurt. Crazy, huh?”
Dean extricated his arm and put some distance between them. “The bastard made
it feel good. I knew how to deal with the pain but I’d forgotten what to do
with… with everything else. I’ve never hated myself more and then he… he made
me watch and he was going to make everyone see… Sam, Bobby… Dad.”
He hit the wheel angrily. “I became a monster because I didn’t want to
disappoint my Dad. To protect my dignity.” He snorted. “That’s how pathetic I
am.”
“No.” Caitlin closed the distance between them again. “You’re not pathetic,
you’re not selfish, and you’re not a monster. Get that into your head, would
you?”
She gently cupped his face and made him look at her. “They played you. That
Alasstair knew exactly what he was doing.”
She interrupted Dean’s protest before he could speak. “Maybe you didn’t want to
disappoint but there were a lot of things going on, can’t you see that? You
always think about everyone else first; I bet you didn’t want to cause your Dad
grief. I bet you were more afraid of him being sorry for you than disappointed
in you.”
Dean swallowed, wide-eyed and tense.
“And don’t get me started on how you were finally not feeling pain because,
yeah, maybe you could stand it when it was constant but being free from it and
knowing it would come back any second? That’s terrifying. Why do you think I
want Saul and the others locked away forever?”
“That’s different.”
“How?” Caitlin pursed her lips in thought. Her eyes widened. “You knew exactly
what to say to me about the physical response to unwanted touches because you
looked it up, didn’t you? You thought that was what broke your resolve and you
looked it up and what you read made you think that pride was your problem?”
“Shut up. Just… shut up.” Dean turned the key in the ignition. “Put your
seatbelt on,” he added gruffly.
                                     XOXOX
“Should Dean and Caitlin not have returned by now?” Cas wondered when he and
Sam returned to the motel to find only Charlie and Garcia hunched at their
laptops, Morgan snoring softly on Sam’s bed.
Sam didn’t answer, of course. Cas padded his pockets for the notebook and
sighed. Back to the lab, then. On a whim, he repeated the question in Enochian.
Sam’s eyes took on a light sheen as he stared vacantly into thin air. Moments
later, he blinked several times and shook his head. With pinched lips and
sagging shoulders, he muttered: “Oh, Dean.” He met Cas’ worried gaze and gave
him a quick, small smile. “They’ll get here in an hour or two.”
Sam looked at the girls that had yet to acknowledge his and Cas’ presence.
“Shouldn’t you two get some sleep?”
Charlie opened her mouth to answer, then thought better of it. She soon held up
a note for Sam to read.
MUST MONITOR THE SITUATION CAREFULLY. CAN’T HAVE ROMAN CATCHING ON. WE’LL SLEEP
WHILE YOU SLAY THE MONSTERS TOMORROW.
Charlie looked at her laptop and scratched out the last word.
LATER TODAY.
“Okay,” Sam said. “Well, let me know if you need any help. I’ll catch some
shuteye.” He looked at Morgan with raised eyebrows. “How long has he been like
that?”
SINCE YOU LEFT
Sam nodded and smirked. Morgan lay conked out on top of the bedspread so Sam
grabbed the top sheet and rolled it over him, continuing to pull until Morgan
was inches from rolling off the bed’s edge. Sam burrowed under the blanket,
back to Morgan, a good few inches between them, and closed his eyes with a
relieved sigh.
The girls looked at the two men sleeping in the single bed and turned to each
other with matching grins.
Minutes later, Sam grumbled at them: “Are you done taking pictures yet?”
Giggling, they returned to their vigil over the elaborate hoax they were
running.
Chapter End Notes
     I did not get the idea for this chapter and rubbed my hands together,
     cackling with evil satisfaction. As it progressed and I watched the
     action unfold in my mind's eye and on the screen, alternately, my
     reaction was along the lines of "God fucking dammit, you guys!
     Seriously??? WTF?"
     All I can say to try to make up for this disaster is that next
     chapter is coming along nicely and a hell of a lot less angsty.
***** First and Last *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The Impala rolled into the parking lot. Dean left her running to listen to the
final notes of Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl.
“That song nearly got you killed.” He turned the engine off and leaned back in
his seat.
Caitlin jolted at the sound of his voice. There had been no words between them
since Dean had told her to put on her seatbelt. “How?”
“The night we met. After I dropped you off, I wanted to hear it. I couldn’t
find the cassette. If I hadn’t spent ages looking for it, you would’ve left the
building before the ghost got you.”
Caitlin snorted. “Maybe. Or maybe it saved my life. Maybe the ghost would have
gotten me anyway and you would’ve been long gone.”
Dean shook a finger at her. “That’s… argumentative. You gotta stop doing that
all the time. If I don’t have enough crap to feel guilty about I’ll just float
away.”
“You wouldn’t.” Caitlin smiled and ran a hand across the dash. “You’d never
leave your baby.”
Dean’s eyes widened. He looked at her with longing and sighed deeply. “Didn’t
you get the memo where I left her in Tennessee for 6 months?”
Caitlin’s smile didn’t waver. “And then you came back for her.”
Dean shrugged and broke the awkward silence by opening the door. “We should get
some sleep before the big showdown.”
Caitlin followed suit but stopped dead a few yards from their room’s door.
“Should I switch with Sam or Charlie? I mean… are you sure you want to share a
bed with me?”
Dean’s eyebrows rose almost all the way to his hairline. Then he scowled at
her. “I’m not even gonna answer that. If you’ve had enough of my shit just
fucking say so.” He swiped the keycard and went inside, not sparing her another
glance.
Caitlin frowned, shook her head and followed him inside. “I thought we had
established that I’m too smart to let you chase me off for my own good. That
doesn’t mean I won’t respect your wishes if you decide you don’t want my
company.”
“Whatever.” Dean dug into his duffel and pulled out a clean t-shirt. He pointed
to the bathroom. “You wanna go first?”
Caitlin rolled her eyes, shrugged and gestured for him to go on.
After her bathroom business, Caitlin came back to Dean lying on his back close
to the middle of the bed, one arm stretched out across her side of the bed in
an open invitation. His eyes were closed but a tiny quirk of his lips belied
his innocent act.
Sighing happily, she crawled under the covers and snuggled in close to him.
Dean wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.
“Sweet dreams,” Dean said, hugging her even tighter to him.
“You too.” Caitlin smiled against the soft cotton t-shirt Dean wore, stretching
her arm across his stomach, fingers stroking his other side, sliding lightly
over his ribs.
Dean laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. That tickles,” he gasped.
“Oh.” She hastily removed her hand. “Sorry.”
“‘S okay. I forgot I was ticklish there.” Dean pressed another kiss into her
hair.
Caitlin looked up at him. “That’s not where I want kisses.”
“It isn’t?” Dean raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, returning her timid
smile. “Where would you like them, then?”
Wordlessly, she pointed to her lips and raised herself up on her elbow.
“And tomorrow?” The words came out rough and gravelly.
“We fight Roman. Then you tell me goodbye and I tell you to take care and come
back if you change your mind.” Caitlin’s voice broke near the end but she held
his gaze until he looked away.
“Okay.” Dean framed her head with his hands. “Okay.” He pulled her down for a
searing kiss.
She ended up straddling him as he tongue fucked her. Moaning, she rubbed
herself against his hardening cock. Heat spread inside her and when the icy
ghosts of the past mixed with it, she simply opened her mouth wider and moved
her hips faster. You’re not invited this time.
Dean’s hands roamed her body, his touches gentle and warm. He took hold of her
hips and pulled her down, the friction between them growing harder. One hand
wandered to her butt, gripping tight and encouraging her to keep up the pace.
The other found its way under her pajama shirt, skimmed up her stomach and
rounded over her breast.
When he rolled a nipple between his fingers, Caitlin gasped, her eyes opening
wide.
Through the layers of clothing, Dean felt the tremors in her pussy
reverberating against his dick.
“Shit,” she said when she found her voice again. “I… that was… wow…” She looked
down at their still clothed bodies. “Gosh. I always thought coming early was a
guy thing.”
Dean chuckled. “Don’t worry, it is. When guys do it they’re out for the count.
You can go again if you want to.”
A slow smile spread across her face, her eyes lighting up with it. “I want to.”
He pulled her down, licked her lips, nipped at them. Her weight still settled
across his hips, her warmth seeping through their clothes and into his dick and
he bucked under her. He caught the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and off as
she raised her arms compliantly.
Caitlin shivered at the kiss of cool air against her skin. She tugged at Dean’s
t-shirt. “You too.”
Dean sat up halfway and pulled off his shirt. He grinned and grabbed her
shoulders, twist and a burst of energy, and he hovered over her, her eyes wide
in surprise, her hair spread over the pillow like a halo around her face.
“Okay?”
She nodded, breathless after the sudden shift in perspective. No memories
rushed her, no ghosts of badtouching trailed her skin. Just Dean, his eyes
shiny, corners crinkling, white of teeth showing behind smiling, soft lips, all
that coiled strength contained in freckles and scars, flush against every part
of her.
Dean kissed his way down her body, the taste of her skin a little salty,
overlay of the cheap floral scented soap in the motel bathroom. He went
straight between her breasts, dipping his tongue teasingly into her navel, his
grin widening when she squirmed and giggled. He tugged at her pants and she
raised her hips allowing him to slide them down easily.
He slipped his own boxers off before crawling back over her, mouths meshing, a
small gasp from her lips as his cock sandwiched between their stomachs, her
fingers tightening behind his head, holding him close.
“Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Please.”
“Okay.”
He reached for the bedside lamp, his pants miles away hanging over a chair,
condom in the back pocket.
She caught his wrist in a gentle hold. “You don’t need it.”
“Not risking anything.”
“You’re clean, aren’t you? I am.”
“That’s not the only thing to worry abou-”
“-It is. Dean, I swear, it is. No surprise babies will come from this.” Her
eyes looked even bigger and more round than usual, begging him to trust her. “I
just want to feel you. You.”
Slowly, Dean let his hand travel back to caress her cheek. “If you’re sure?” He
watched her blink back wetness as she nodded.
Eyes glued to hers, he reached between them and lined up. He didn’t look away,
didn’t blink, as he slowly, so slowly, slid inside her.
She returned his gaze, teeth worrying her lower lip, back arching to meet him.
No heavenly light lit up the room, no angel choir sang as Dean filled her
completely. It shouldn’t be a surprise that sex was just sex, even with someone
she had chosen herself.
Then Dean pressed his lips to hers, so gently, so warm and soft. It didn’t take
any outside special effects to announce the feeling of rightgoodperfect
lighting her up from the inside.
They moved together in a slow grind, neither willing to draw away from the
other, only pushing closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer,
breathing in each other’s air.
It wasn’t just sex. It was intimacy, it was closeness. Caitlin closed her eyes
and savored the low tingle of arousal, their synchronized movements, skin on
skin, feeling of muscles working tandem with hers, hot breath against her
mouth, so full inside.
“I’ve got a problem.” Dean rested his weight on one arm so he could smooth her
hair back.
She opened her eyes a fraction to see him smile softly, so different from his
usual smirk. “Yeah?”
“Mhmh. I kinda wanna do this all night, just this. And I kinda wanna see how
many times I can get you off. And I kinda wanna just really go hard, cause I
ain’t never done this bare before and fuck, it’s amazing. Or maybe that’s just
you, fuck if I know. But then again, I just kinda wanna roll over enough that I
don’t crush you and fall asleep like this, inside you.”
Caitlin bit her lip, tiny crease on her forehead. Smiling, she said: “You have
no idea how absolutely okay I would be with either one of those things.”
“Shit. I was hoping you could help me choose.” He rested his forehead against
hers, their noses rubbing together lightly.”
“What about all of them?” She didn’t smile, couldn’t. After tonight, there were
no more chances to any of those things with him.
Dean chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.” He drew back a few inches only to
drive himself back in. “Mmff fuck.” He paused buried balls deep and kissed her,
her mouth and tongue all he cared about.
Talking while being kissed to within an inch of her life wasn’t easy, but
Caitlin did it. “Dean, move.”
“Nnh. Can’t. I’ll come in ten seconds. It’ll be embarrassing. Worse than my
first time. Don’t make me.”
Caitlin laughed and Dean’s breath hitched at the way it tugged at his dick. She
kissed him back.
Dean thrust into her again and stopped with a moan, shaking. “So fucking good.”
After another lengthy kiss, Caitlin pushed at his chest. “Let me drive for a
while.”
Dean pouted. “Gonna be a short while.”
“I’m sure you can score two against one if you make an effort.” She pushed
harder and he rolled with her until she was astride him once again. Grinning,
she raised herself up until only his cockhead was still inside, then sank back
down slowly, clenching around him. When she couldn’t get him deeper, she ground
her clit against his pelvic bone in tiny figure eights.
“Caitie, fuck, Caitie.” Dean’s face was scrunched up with the effort of holding
back.
She did it all again, even slower.
Dean busied himself, touching her everywhere. He plucked her nipples, pulled
her down to nip and suck each of them in turn. She moaned and gasped and he
felt the echo of every one of those touches in her pussy’s grip around his
dick. How the fuck am I supposed to last? He put a thumb lightly on her clit,
rubbing in time with her movements and felt her tighten and tremble around him.
Dean spluttered and gasped for breath, his cock seizing through his climax.
Caitlin shook uncontrollably from the dual stimulation of Dean’s cock and
finger. He came and she felt him harden even more and jolt erratically deep
inside her. She followed him into bliss, muscles spasming, heart rate spiking,
nothing but the sounds he made and the feeling of him inside her.
They kissed through the aftershocks. Caitlin pulled the covers over them and
rested her head on his shoulder. They turned enough for Dean to breathe freely
and both fell asleep before Dean softened too much to stay inside her.
Waking up the next morning, bed empty and sounds of Dean in the shower, Caitlin
both appreciated and mourned not having felt the loss when he slipped out.
                                     XOXOX
Charlie stretched and yawned and let her head fall sideways to rest on Garcia’s
shoulder. “Don’t Roman and his gang ever sleep?”
Garcia raised an eyebrow at her. “Did your closet monsters sleep very often
when you were a kid?”
Charlie stuck her tongue out at her. “Do not present me with idle speculations
disguised as logic argumentation at this hour, heathen.”
Garcia giggled and put her hand to her mouth in mock surprise. “My gosh! You
sound just like the angel with the dreamy blue eyes.”
From the bed, Morgan grunted in annoyance. “Please, ladies. Some of us still
need beauty sleep.”
Garcia winked at him. “Jealous, Sweetheart?” She let her eyes roam up and down
the vaguely human shape of him lumped under the covers. “And Morgan? Any more
beauty sleep for you and even the sheep will jump you wherever you go.” She
made a clawing motion at him. “Rrrrrrrarh”
Morgan pulled the blanket completely over his head. “‘m too tired for that
shit.”
Sam blinked his eyes open. It was weird how he could still hear some sounds,
sometimes even voices, distantly, but hardly ever any distinguishable words. He
checked the clock at the nightstand and reached over to shake Morgan’s
shoulder. “Wake up. D-day, G-man.”
Morgan clawed himself up to send Sam a betrayed look. “You disappoint me, Sam.
That’s the kind of crap I expect from your brother. I really thought you were
better than this.”
Sam smirked and shrugged. “I can’t hear you, agent.”
Grumbling to himself, Morgan got up and went to the bathroom, followed by the
girls’ laughter.
Dean threw the door to the tiny room wide open, Caitlin a few steps behind him.
He looked around, noticing Cas sitting at the edge of the bed, Sam in the
process of smoothing back his hair, the girls still hunched over their laptops
and Morgan exiting the bathroom.
“So this is it, huh? Team Slay Dick. The Geek Squad,” he nodded at Charlie and
Garcia who both watched him with narrowed eyes, “looking hella fine, I might
add.” He winked at Morgan. “Our very own black man in black.”
Morgan rubbed a hand across his eyes and looked at Sam. “I forgive you. I
forgot how bad Dean’s attempts at humor are.”
Ignoring Morgan, Dean looked at Caitlin. “A real medic.” Finally, he met first
Sam’s and then Cas’ eyes. “Seems like the original Team Free Will has grown
exponentially in both numbers and talents.”
Dean raised his voice to address them all. “Okay, it’s time to get moving. Does
everyone know what to do?”
Charlie and Garcia nodded. Morgan went to stand next to them. “I’ll make sure
no one disturbs them.”
“I’ll come with you and Sam,” Cas said.
Dean nodded, had expected nothing less.
“Me too,” said Caitlin.
“What?” Dean spun to glare at her. “No, no, no, fuck no. And we’re not having
this discussion again.”
“You’re right. We’re not. I seem to remember you agreeing to let me make my own
choices.” Caitlin crossed her arms in front of her and stared at him with
stubborn determination. She added, a bit softer: “You know I can hold my own in
a fight.”
“And you know that the Leviathans are masters at psychological freak factor
fucking fifteen. They’re just gonna mess with your head.”
She scoffed. “Because you’re such a healthy individual, no issues for them to
use, right?”
Sam cut through their argument, his voice doing the weird echo thing. “We have
to go. If she wants to come, let her come.”
Dean clenched his fists and jaws and swallowed against the horde of swear words
threatening to escape his mouth.
Cas placed a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder, a silent calming gesture as they
filed out to the parking lot. “If Sam says she should come, it will be
alright.”
Chapter End Notes
     Okay, just a quick PSA in case you're so amazing that you're checking
     here for the next chapter.
     I apologize but it's not coming today. I'll post as soon as it's
     ready (hopefully before next Monday.)
     We're moving in two weeks and we're going through all our stuff and
     throwing shit out and what not. Also, need to do an awful lot of
     shopping and stuff (I hate shopping.)
     So sadly, updates might become a bit erratic here at the almost end
     of this tale. But I promise you will find out how the confrontation
     with Leviathan Boss Dick pans out and what happens to Caitlin's
     dysfunctional stepfamily.
     Thank you everyone who's still with me so far <3
***** End Game *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm sorry for this being so late. We're moving in three days so it'll
     be another week or two before I put up the next chapter. I'm a little
     bitter at real life right now, for ruining my perfect streak on this
     story. I've posted every Monday for over a year and now, three, four
     chapters tops, from the end, I've failed you.
     I hope you won't feel the story itself is failing, too.
     Thank you for sticking with me for so long.
Dean glanced in the rear view mirror and scowled at Caitlin in the backseat.
She stuck her tongue out at him. For the next few miles he kept his eyes on the
road. Another glance, another scowl, an arched eyebrow and a lopsided smirk
before Caitlin stuck her tongue out again.
Cas watched the interaction with fascination. “Is there something wrong with
your tongue? Do you require help?”
Caitlin snorted. “Why don’t you ask Dean if he needs an iron to smooth out his
forehead?”
Cas’ reply was cut short by the sound of Caitlin’s phone.
DICK PICKS FROM SPACE ARRIVED. EN ROUTE TO SUGAR LAND. -C&G.
“Roman took the bait, he’s headed to SucroCorp,” Caitlin told Cas, loud enough
for Dean to hear her. Then she showed Sam the screen and he gave her a thumbs
up.
Ten minutes later, the Impala pulled to a stop in the emergency track inside a
long, curved tunnel.
Hands shaking, Caitlin texted Charlie back: WE’RE HERE. -C&CO
Less than a minute later another message ticked in. CAM CONTROLLED. CRASH IN
10…
Caitlin closed her eyes and swallowed, Dean’s stricken expression when they had
showed him the fake video, fresh in her mind.
“Where did you get that?”
“Oh my gosh, was this really your car? We found some photos on a website with
car wreck pictures and then manip’ed them into this.”
“That’s baby, alright.”
“Holy shit. How did you survive?”
Dean had turned his back and stomped out of the room.
Sam had come over and sighed at the sight of the wrecked Impala on the screen.
“I was driving when the truck hit us out of nowhere. Dad had a bullet in his
leg, Dean was barely breathing as it was. They told us, at the hospital, he
wouldn’t make it. Dad wouldn’t hear of it. One minute my brother’s dying and
I’m screaming at my Dad to fix things, to do better. The next minute, Dean’s
okay and Dad’s dead.” Sam had shaken his head. “Did a hell of a number on
Dean.”
Now, the cameras in the tunnel stored Charlie and Garcia’s manufactured footage
real-time. Within the next few minutes, a traceable 911 call from the scene
would alert authorities and three ambulances and a police car would be
dispatched to the scene. They would be redirected elsewhere through scrambled
radio communications before arriving.
Dean picked the lock to the dusty storage room for “CREW ONLY” and soon both
ends of the tunnel were blocked by yellow and black striped barriers and signs
saying “BLOCKED” and “ACCIDENT.”
Sam set up a bunch of flashing blue lights, so the reflections of what would
seem like a bunch of emergency vehicles were visible when entering the tunnel.
Caitlin and Cas spread caltrops across a fifty yard section just ahead of the
bend.
Sam and Dean set up a row of cardboard boxes containing crystallized borax and
C4, working quickly and efficiently.
Caitlin’s phone startled them all. NEAT TRICK. DICK 1 STILL SUGARBOUND, DICK 2
COMING UR WAY, 3 CARS, 7 GOONS.
“Fuck,” Dean spat. “Why didn’t we think of that? How do we know we get the
right Dick?”
Sam read the text and Dean’s expression. “Because the real Roman will be the
one coming here. Trust me.”
Dean patted Sam’s shoulder and nodded. As he walked away he muttered to
himself: “I fucking hope you’re right.”
Caitlin and Cas dragged a four gallon tank of borax over to the storage room
and Dean figured out how to connect it to the sprinkler system.
They armed themselves with shotguns, extra shells and a machete each and nodded
at each other in silence.
Dean handed Caitlin the detonator for the C4, his hand shaking bad enough that
he almost dropped it. She caught it and he grabbed her wrists. “There’s an
emergency exit inside the storage room. If things go south, you leave,
promise?”
Caitlin frowned, the idea of leaving her friends behind and running from man
eating monsters on her own every bit as horrible as staying in the killzone.
“I need you to live, please?” Dean’s grip on her tightened.
“Okay,” she said, shaking her head. As he let go of her, she reached out and
stopped him. “But Dean, don’t make me do that. Don’t let things go south,
okay?”
Dean leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “Okay,” he said hoarsely.
They took their positions, Caitlin in the store room, Sam and Dean by the fake
emergency lights, Cas invisible somewhere in between.
They waited.
                                     XOXOX
Charlie and Garcia watched their screens rigidly, whatever cameras they could
access along Roman’s route to ensure that nothing unforeseen happened, keeping
an eye on the Winchesters standing in the tunnel, faces grim, guns ready.
A knock on the motel door startled them both, Garcia letting out a squeak.
Morgan pulled his gun and went to stand behind the door. “Who’s there,” he
yelled.
“Me. What the hell are you two doing here?” Hotchner’s annoyance went through
the door with perfect clarity.
Morgan put his gun away and opened the door. “Sorry, man. We’re working this
ca…”
Someone kicked the door hard from the other side and it banged into Morgan’s
left cheek bone. His teeth bit down hard on his tongue at the impact, flooding
his mouth with the metallic, stale taste of his own blood. He shot out his arm
to stop anyone from entering the room. Too warm, too strong fingers wrapped
around his wrist and snapped it like a twig. Morgan yelled and pulled against
from the iron grip around his wrist. The pressure simply increased.
Hotchner stepped into the room, keeping Morgan’s wrist in a grid lock, a cruel
sneer on his lips. He aimed a gun at Charlie and Garcia.
Garcia stared at her friend and coworker with wide eyes. “Hotch, what are you
doing?”
“That isn’t Hotch,” Morgan gasped, failing to loosen the fingers around his
wrist with his other hand.
The Leviathan impersonating Hotchner moved the gun from Garcia to Charlie.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Pouting, Charlie drew her hand away from the bottle of soap on the table.
                                     XOXOX
“Shouldn’t they have been here by now?” Dean waved a hand in front of Sam’s
face and repeated himself.
Sam shrugged. “Depends. They could have detoured for backup but I guess the
girls would have told us.”
Just then, the sound of cars sounded down the other end of the tunnel.
“Woah, here they come,” Dean warned Sam.
With a nod, Sam turned to face the incoming threat.
The sound of popping tires never came. Instead, the cars slowed before entering
the caltrop zone.
“Something’s gone wrong,” Dean muttered, exchanging a dark glance with Sam.
“Sam and Dean Winchester!”
There was no mistaking Dick Roman’s smooth, arrogant tone.
“I know you’re waiting around the bend, ready to fire everything you’ve got at
us. Before you do, you should know that we have your friends at the King’s Rest
Motel. They’re alive and relatively unharmed. If you cooperate with us, they
might stay that way.”
“You’re bluffing!” Dean’s shoulders slumped in defeat, despite the defiant
words. Of course, they weren’t bluffing.
“You’re welcome to come closer and watch the livefeed. So far that just means
the real time video recording but if you don’t comply, it might become more
literal than that.” The words carried an audible smirk.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered and shrugged at Sam.
Together they walked forward, feet scraping the asphalt to avoid stepping on
their own useless caltrops.
Three black continentals blocked the road, eight men waiting in front of them.
Roman stood his ground in the middle, the closest goon to his right holding a
laptop turned to face Sam and Dean. It showed the unmistakable images of
Morgan, Charlie, and Garcia tied up in Sam’s room.
“What do you want,” said Sam, arms crossed in front of him, back straight
enough to make him tower over everyone.
“What you stole, of course. Your guarantee that you’ll stop fighting us. In
other words, the tablet and your lives.”
Dean scoffed. “You’ll eat our friends as soon as we’re gone anyway. No reason
for us not to fight you right now.”
“With what?” Roman smiled. “You rigged the sprinklers to drench us in borax?”
He reached behind him and brought an umbrella up. “You can’t harm us.”
“Yeah?” Dean mimicked Sam’s crossed arms. “What are you gonna do? Shoot us?” He
winced at his own words as they left his mouth.
Roman laughed. “What a novel idea.” Seven guns left their holsters and aimed at
the brothers as their wielders clicked the safeties off.
Sam’s eyes widened and he turned to Dean. “Dude! What did you just say?”
Dean threw his arms out: “Duck and cover.” He pushed Sam hard, back toward the
line of explosives.
                                     XOXOX
Caitlin listened from her hidden position. Things had gone south. When Dean
yelled duck, she hit the switch and turned on the sprinklers, crossing her
fingers that it would buy him and Sam a little time.
The Leviathans had the others. Her heart thumped against her chest. They might
die.
Cas. Castiel. You can save them. You’re the only one who can.
                                     XOXOX
Roman cursed as the sprinklers came on, bullets flying everywhere, his sizzling
underlings firing blind. He held out the umbrella, allowing at least one of
them to aim.
“Cease fire and take cover! No, not you, you idiot,” he hissed at the flustered
dimwit at his side. As soon as everyone was protected he pointed ahead where
the Winchesters had just disappeared out of sight. “Let’s do it right this
time.”
Roman brought out his own gun as they advanced across the treacherous ground.
The completely borax-free caltrops were a nuisance, nothing more, and they soon
had the Winchesters back in their sight.
The tallest were limping. leaning on his brother. Roman took aim and fired a
two deliberate shots. He watched with satisfaction as the two of them went down
in a heap.
                                     XOXOX
“Seriously?” Leviathan Hotch gave Morgan an incredulous stare. “You two do
nothing but flirt outrageously day in and day out and you’ve never done the
dirty? Not even that weird biting each other’s lips thing you humans find so
entertaining?” He looked between Morgan and Garcia, momentarily stunned into
silence. “You should’ve gotten it out of your system. Then maybe you’d spend
more time working and less time frustrating everyone with your oh-so-clever
banter.” A roll of the eyes made it clear how clever the Leviathan thought
their banter was.
Morgan met Garcia’s eyes and she gave him a small nod. His lips curled up as he
leaned his head back to sneer at their captor. “I thought your kind were an
ancient race, akin to a natural disaster on a cosmic scale. And yet, here you
are spewing the same ignorant, barely concealed misogyny humans with below
average intelligence tends to hide their insecurities behind. What are you
afraid of?”
The Leviathan narrowed its eyes [Hotch’s eyes, dammit] at him. With a huff it
turned to Charlie.
“I’m surprised you‘re still here, little turncoat. Don’t you think your new
friends here know about all the crimes you’ve committed? Don’t you think
they’re just waiting for the right moment to snap a set of handcuffs around
your wrists?”
Charlie shifted in her seat. “Plenty of nice jobs for me in the White Collar
division. I was never really a black-hat. More of a grey-ish kinda pink hat.”
The Leviathan smiled, teeth showing. “You’ve been planning to get caught,
haven’t you? Hoping to get access to their old-fashioned paper archives to find
out who fucked up the case against your parents’ killer?” It chuckled. “You’re
delusional. Accidents happen. You just don’t want to carry the guilt alone.”
Charlie’s face was white as a sheet except for two red spots high on her
cheeks. She kept her lips pressed together, hands clenched in their bonds.
Garcia nudged Charlie’s leg with her knee, her ankle protesting against the
rope. She caught Charlie’s attention and smiled, shifted her eyes to the
Leviathan and back before rolling her eyes vigorously.
Charlie’s breath hitched on an aborted giggle. Her head snapped back when the
Leviathan backhanded her.
“Do you think this is a joke? Do you find your situation funny?” Another slap
hit her other cheek. “What do you think is gonna happen when my boss gets the
Word? You’ll get to mosey on out of here, no harm, no foul?”
Charlie spat a mixture of spit and blood on the floor, breathing hard. She
swallowed and met the Leviathan’s eyes dead on. “I think we’ll be dead before
the sun sets no matter what and I’m not gonna waste my last hours crying about
my past to satisfy your sick sense of humor.” Her eyes widened and the corners
of her mouth quirked upward. She focused on Garcia. “That sounded totally
badass, didn’t it? We’re going to die trying to save the world and I’m mouthing
off to the bad guys. Penny, we’re HEROES.”
Garcia scoffed. “Martyrs, more like it. But, your enthusiasm is admirable.”
Charlie’s face fell.
Castiel materialized behind the Leviathan and swung his machete in a wide arc.
The severed head slid off its neck and rolled across the floor.
Charlie stared at the gorish spectacle, mouth hanging open. “Dude! Telefrag!”
Cas caught the monster’s head by the hair and carried it to the bathtub.
The head opened its mouth. “Think you’re a hero now, Castiel? Do all your
friends know what you’ve been up to? We remember. Changing sides now won’t wash
you clean, nothing will.”
Cas glared at the thing as he let go and turned the tap, cold water trickling
into the tub. “My Father disagrees.”
The head rolled its eyes. “You’d think I failed psychological warfare 101,” it
sighed.
Cas tilted his head, confused. He shrugged and paused. A small smile grazed his
lips. “Why don’t you get clean?” Cas threw a bar of soap into the water and
left.
It only took half a minute for the water to rise high enough to drown the
agonized screams.
Cas loosened the first knot on the ropes tying Morgan’s hands behind his back.
There was a strange pull inside him, growing. The world tilted sideways, his
surroundings blurring and fading. The carpet was scratchy against his cheek and
smelled like onions. He blinked furiously as another Leviathan stepped through
the door.
“Hello old friend. You look unwell. I guess the sigils I just activated are
working.” The Leviathan kicked Cas hard in the stomach. “No flying, no powers.”
It bent down and easily trapped Cas’ hands behind his back. “The combination of
the inverted Solomon’s key keeping you here and the extensive angel warding
might turn out to be deadly,” it said, tying a rope around Cas’ wrists.
                                     XOXOX
Pain lashed through Sam’s left side when he hit the ground, twisting to spare
Dean’s suddenly limp body as much as possible.
Dean stayed silent, heavy and motionless as he landed halfway on Sam.
“Dean? Dean? Where are you hurt? Dean!”
Sam padded down Dean’s back, feeling the warm, sticky wet blood. He shifted,
gently rolling Dean off him.
Dean’s eyes were open, brimming with terror and pain. His mouth worked
furiously but Sam couldn’t hear a single sound. Dean’s lips had a bluish tinge
that seemed to worsen quickly.
Sam put a shaking hand to Dean’s back, following his spine up, up. There.
Slightly to the left but still on point, just below the base of Dean’s skull.
The entry wound. Dean was paralyzed from the neck down
Sam slowly maneuvered Dean onto his wounded back side. “Dean, the bullet hit
your spine. You’re not breathing right now, so I’m gonna do it for you, okay?
Cas will fix you in sec, so hang in there, Dee.”
***** The Element of Surprise *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm sorry it's so short but hopefully, it takes care of the massive
     cliff hanger I was evil enough to leave you with.
     I'm still halfway buried in boxes in our new home but I've managed to
     write a bit ahead of this so I swear that the next chapter will be on
     schedule, next Monday.
Sam pinched Dean’s nostrils shut and covered his mouth completely with his.
Dean’s chest rose slowly as Sam blew air into his mouth. He raised his head,
inhaling deeply and passed on another breath, then another, praying to Cas the
whole time.
Sam blew another breath into Dean’s mouth and suddenly found himself hanging
midair, his own airflow significantly impeded by the collar of his shirt. He
kicked out his legs, hitting air and an unflinching enemy several times before
finding purchase on the ground and escaping the vertigo of the sudden
suspension.
Roman pushed Sam up against the tunnel wall, lower arm pressed against his
windpipe. He looked at Sam, searching, evaluating. Then his eyes widened. “You
consumed it?”
Sam looked Roman straight in the eyes and smirked.
Roman narrowed his eyes. “Fine. That saves me the trouble of finding a prophet.
I guess you’re my new pet monkey.” He motioned to two of his goons. “Grab the
other one. We’ll put him in stasis, make sure this one cooperates.”
Roman caught Sam by the shoulder, pulling to turn him around.
Sam twisted in his grip and stepped back, reaching inside his jacket for the
silver tipped bone. The second he had enough air, he yelled, words scratching
at his sore throat. “Caitlin! Now!” He narrowly avoided getting caught again by
throwing himself over Dean instead of running away.
Sam felt the shockwave of the explosion like a hard shove moving through his
body instead of around it as if all his organs got sucker punched
simultaneously. Still, he forced air back inside his lungs, mouth covered by
his shirt to avoid the worst of the borax dust. He passed it on to Dean
quickly, managing another two stinging breaths before being hauled away again,
coughing.
Roman’s skin peeled off his face in large oozing flakes, his eyes turned liquid
and running down his fleshy cheeks in a Bad Taste parody of tears. “You’ll
suffer for this, filthy mongrel.”
Sam figured it wasn’t a great loss that he couldn’t hear the temporarily
dissolving monster’s last words. He plunged the bone of Saint Katherine deeply
into the side of Roman’s neck, straining his muscles, pushing until the tip of
it protruded from the other side.
Sam’s mouth spewed Enochian rebukes and regrets of its own volition as
temporarily dissolving turned into permanent erasure so fast the correct word
was implosion. Space occupied by Roman nanoseconds earlier turned empty at a
rate that pulled at Sam. He reached out for something to hold onto and found
nothing.
                                     XOXOX
Charlie strained against her bonds, her breath coming in short, wheezing gasps.
The headless body still lay on the floor, yet a carbon copy grinned at her from
where it was securing Morgan’s hands once again, jostling his broken wrist far
more than necessary.
Whistling, the thing sauntered into the bathroom, it’s laughter echoing back to
the main room. “You look like crap, my diversionary friend.”
They heard a snick and the sound of water draining.
“Charlie,” Garcia whispered. “Can you move your chair? I can move my hands
some. If we turn a bit I might be able to loosen your knots.”
Their legs weren’t tied. The chairs scraped against the floor several times
making them freeze, listening. Then Garcia got her fingers tangled in the ropes
holding Charlie, Morgan telling her which way to pull and twist them.
Loud footsteps from the bathroom, the door swinging open. Charlie’s hands
springing free.
She caught the soap from the desk and turned to face the monster.
It sneered at her, a badly burnt head otherwise similar to its own in its
hands. “That stings but it doesn’t hurt me. Not the way I’ll hurt you.”
Something nudged Charlie’s left foot.
Cas, white as a sheet and his whole body shaking with tremors, pushed the
machete at her.
She discarded the soap, tossing it vaguely in the direction of the Leviathan
and picked it up. “I guess I might hurt you yet,” she said to the Leviathan as
it brushed away stray soap from its shoulder. Its eyes widened in surprise and
she swung the machete casually.
It was messy. The first swing went through no more than a quarter of the
thing’s neck and Charlie cursed. It chuckled, mouth widening, teeth everywhere,
pointy and shiny with spit.
Charlie attacked again, putting as much force as she could muster into the
blow. The head wobbled, still attached to the shoulders by a wide string of
flesh, quickly growing. Black goo sprayed everywhere, the machete now slippery
in Charlie’s hands.
The Leviathan stuck its tongue out at her. Shrieking, she hacked again, her
voice cutting off when black slime entered her mouth. It tasted like tar,
sulphurous and thick. Finally, the head came off completely. Charlie retched
over and over, even as she crawled back to free the others.
                                     XOXOX
Sam slipped, slid toward the emptiness, portal, whatever it was, sucking him
in. He bent his knees and leaned back, fingers scratched raw against the
blacktop.
If I don’t get back to Dean soon, he’ll suffocate. Alone.
Fingertips bleeding, Sam fought harder. It wasn’t enough. He gulped and gasped
for more air, more strength. His throat hurt, his lungs didn’t cooperate. His
eyes watered and he could hardly see.
I know this smell.
Cheap whiskey, engine grease, musty smell of old books, Old Spice aftershave,
hint of ages old tobacco dried out in a drawer. Bobby.
The pull stopped, leaving Sam panting, coughing and heaving on the ground. He
rolled onto his back, eyes wide and blinking rapidly, nostrils flaring, as the
hole disappeared with a final flash of light.
The remaining Leviathans stood gaping at the place their vanquished leader had
vanished. Their skin flaked, their bodies crumpled, their usual reaction to
borax somehow worsened and their will to fight gone out of them.
Sam got to his feet shakily, heart thudding in his chest. Was he too late?
Caitlin was kneeling at Dean’s side, her lips against his, breathing into him.
The whites in her eyes were bloodshot, her skin reddening. Sam’s own hands
itched and had blisters rapidly forming.
All around them, Roman’s goons were dissolving into black puddles. Sam had a
brief moment to wonder if it was the same everywhere or if it was the borax
crystals in the air. Then Caitlin gestured at him to take over, mimicking a
phone call.
Sam nodded and took a few deep breaths, sinking to his knees next to her.
Dean’s eyes were still open, still aware, his skin visibly irritated and
glistening with sweat. Sam read the questions in them as easy as any book. Cas
never showed. If he tried to help the others… did we get them all killed? And
Cas?
Sam shared a breath with Dean and reached for the Word inside him. There was
nothing. Frantic, he reached for the stone, tucked in the waistline of his
jeans where he usually kept his gun. It was broken, a jagged line straight
through from top to bottom. Sam lined up the pieces and pressed them together
uselessly. With a frustrated growl, he threw them as far away as he could and
turned his focus to Dean.
Dean had blood around his mouth and Sam nearly panicked. Realizing it wasn’t
there before, he ran a hand across his nose and felt the sticky wetness there.
His clothes were a rusty mess down the front. Sam wiped his sleeve across
Dean’s mouth then across his own his face. He breathed for them both again,
pausing between every breath to hack and cough.
Sam jolted when Caitlin touched his shoulder. Despite her mouth moving, he
couldn’t hear anything. A rush of cold dread surged through him. The tablet was
broken, the power gone. He should be able to hear her. Hand shaking, he pointed
to his ear and shook his head.
Caitlin pointed to the fake blue lights and held up five fingers, closing her
hand and opening it again twice. Fifteen minutes for an ambulance to arrive.
Sam nodded, his nails digging into his palms. It would be okay. Dean would be
okay.
Minutes later, Caitlin grabbed Sam’s shoulder again, squeezing hard. His heart
skipped a beat, fearing the worst. She had her phone against her ear, listening
intently, smiling. She caught his eyes and held the phone out for him to read
“Charlie” on the display.
“Are they okay?”
Caitlin nodded, coughing into her sleeve, forehead wrinkling at something. She
spoke a little while longer and started typing on her phone the second the call
disconnected.
ALL ALIVE, CAS HURT BUT GETTING BETTER. CAN’T FLY :/
Sam nodded, smiling. “Hear that, Dean? The others are okay. Cas got hurt and
can’t help us right now but he’ll be okay. So you just hang in there, brother.”
Sam gave Dean’s arm a squeeze, thought better of it and patted his cheek
softly, chuckling at the combination of relief and big brotherly promises of
revenge humiliation in Dean’s eyes. Sam’s chuckles soon turned to violent
coughs, taste of copper growing in his mouth.
Caitlin looked away from them, intent on something.
Dean’s eyes followed.
Sirens. They could hear sirens. Sam breathed deeply, instantly regretting it,
coughing and spitting blood.
Caitlin gently pushed him away and gave Dean her next breath.
Sam watched the tunnel opening and when he saw the first flickering blue lights
there, he closed his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks.
***** Days *****
Day 0:
It was a long time yet, before the rescue team had geared up properly. They
wore hazmat suits, looking like something out of a sci-fi movie, oxygen tanks
weighing them down, the gurneys they brought skidding across the rough
blacktop.
A rescue worker handed Sam an oxygen mask and put another on Dean, immediately
starting up a regular, professional rhythm of ventilating. They got a stiff
board under Dean and strapped him to it, put him on a gurney and carried rather
than pushed it out of the tunnel.
While several EMTs cut off Dean’s clothes and cleaned him with washcloths, Sam
and Caitlin had to endure a hosing down before getting inside the emergency
helicopter. Caitlin shook beyond the cold, silent tears continuing to run down
her cheeks after the water stopped.
Swaddled in heat blankets, Sam and Caitlin were ushered to sit behind the pilot
and co-pilot, oxygen masks still in place, Dean behind them and hidden behind
several rescuers bustling over him.
At some point, after landing but before their chest X-rays, Caitlin showed Sam
her phone, a text from Garcia telling them to
GO AHEAD AND USE YOUR REAL NAMES, IT’LL WORK.
The message continued to list social security numbers for Sam and Dean, as well
as insurance information for all of them.
After being cleared and given temporary hospital clothes, Sam and Caitlin
waited. And waited. And waited. Shook up, exhausted, their skin still a bit
itchy, folded up in uncomfortable waiting chairs.
Caitlin’s entire body still trembled, hadn’t stopped since the hose-down
outside the tunnel.
Sam cursed himself for not noticing sooner. “Caitlin? You okay?”
She started to nod, bit her lip and shook her head frantically.
Sam held out his arms and she almost knocked him over, throwing herself against
him, shaking and sobbing. He held her close and stroked her back, slow, calming
motions.
She fell asleep and was out cold when a doctor finally came by and spoke to Sam
with a serious expression.
“Hold on, Doc, just a second. I’m deaf. I’ll just wake her up and you can tell
her.”
Caitlin already stirred at the sound of voices and Sam shook her harder than
necessary, barely holding himself together. Is Dean dead? Again? And how much
world will I have to break to get him back this time?
Caitlin listened intently to the doctor, nodding and… a smile. That was
definitely a hint of a smile. Sam exhaled shakily, shoulders sagging slightly,
waiting for a full report.
Caitlin listened to the explanation carefully, asking questions as if doing
rounds with the attending doctor at the hospital.
The borax had affected Dean most of the three of them, had him running a high
fever, the skin on his hands and face blistering as if burned, his heart
working overtime. They had done what they could to relieve the pressure on his
spine, but it was too risky to keep operating on him in his unstable condition.
There was a high risk that he would be completely paralyzed from the neck down,
forever relying on a ventilator to even stay alive, if he lived long enough for
the borax poisoning to pass.
Caitlin nodded her understanding, accepting the odds given. This doctor didn’t
know about Cas. All Dean had to do was stay alive long enough for Cas to fix
him. She thanked him and started writing everything down for Sam.
Day 3:
Cas arrived by bus. He stood at the hospital entrance for long minutes before
proceeding, head bowed, steps heavy.
It broke him, the way Sam and Caitlin lit up when he entered the room, the way
they read his expression and the way their hopes crumbled before his eyes. They
couldn’t have known and he hadn’t found the courage to call ahead and tell
them.
Unsure steps took him to Dean’s side. He reached out with an unsteady hand,
putting two fingers to Dean’s forehead, a gesture so familiar, so full of
power, so … useless. That sigil, the Leviathans used on him… It worked just
fine. The only reason he was still breathing was his willingness to accept the
death of his grace, to keep going without it.
He stood, frozen, fingers still touching Dean, praying, willing, demanding
something to happen. Minutes later, he drew back, clenching his hand, nails
digging into his palm. Useless. Human.
Cas turned to leave, would have gone without another word, if Sam hadn’t
stopped him.
“Hey, Cas! Where are you going?”
Cas turned slowly. “I don’t know.”
Sam frowned. “You… don’t know?” I can’t have read his lips right, that doesn’t
make sense.
Cas nodded.
Sam took a step toward him, arms out in confusion. “Why?”
Cas shrugged and smiled sadly. “I don’t belong anywhere, anymore.”
Sam frowned again, smiled sheepishly and pulled out a notebook from his pocket.
“Could you, um, write that down?”
Sam read the note and threw it aside. “Cas, you’ll always belong with us. You
should know that.”
Cas sighed and wrote a few more words.
“That’s okay,” Sam told him when he’d read them. “Powers or not, you’re our
friend. If you have nowhere else to be, we want you to be here.”
Cas felt wetness at his cheek, nodding, accepting the hug Sam offered, Caitlin
taking her turn next. He looked around the white room with all its strange
machinery. He had a home. Sort of.
Day 4:
The ceiling was white. Not a spider’s web, no cracks, just blinding whiteness.
He felt no pain, didn’t feel anything, except some itching along his scalp and
cheeks. When he opened his mouth to ask what the fuck was going on, something
got in the way of his tongue.
Dean squinted and caught the outline of a tube. His lips vaguely shaped the
word “motherfucker” but no sound escaped. He drew in a breath to holler for
someone and nothing happened. He couldn’t even feel himself breathing, let
alone control it.
Sharp taste of panic overflowed his taste buds. Did panic really have a taste
or was that just in his mind? Could he taste things, still? He bit at his
tongue but couldn’t close his teeth tight enough around the tube to draw blood.
Hospital. He was in a hospital, so the others must be okay, right? Right? He
replayed the events of their confrontation with Dick, remembered falling and
feeling no pain, the weirdest sense of no air getting into his lungs no matter
how deeply he inhaled, getting lightheaded and then… Then Sam, panicked,
fucking kissing everything better, until he had enough air to realize…
Fuck. Motherfucking, goddamn, sonofabitch, stupid, asshole, dickhead Dick,
fucking shooting him in the back, bloody paralyzing him, the bloody bastard.
And where the fuck was Sam? Where was everybody? Leaving him in this bed to
rot, what the hell?
It wasn’t like Sam, not waiting by his bedside. Caitlin had seemed the type,
too. Wasn’t she a doctor? Shouldn’t she be double checking his chart or
something?
Maybe they just realized, finally, that he wasn’t worth it. And it shouldn’t
hurt, damn it, he always knew he didn’t deserve their attention. Yeah, good for
them, moving on to bigger, better things. Dean was happy for them. They
deserved the best.
Fucking hell, flooding your ear canals with tears when you can’t move your arms
is a moron thing to do.
It didn’t help that those damn tears weren’t all gone yet, when Sam burst
through the door, eyes widening with shock when meeting Dean’s.
“Fuck, Dean. Shit, I… I meant to be here when you woke up. They said you
wouldn’t wake up until some time tomorrow.”
Dean blinked, felt the crusty salt trail on his face protest the movement. Just
don’t see. Don’t say anything.
Sam never took orders, silent or otherwise. “Dean, I’m so sorry. We just wanted
to bring Baby back here, once they’d said you’d pull through. We’re fine, both
of us.”
And if Dean could turn his head, if he could hide behind an empty gaze through
a window, he would have. All he could do was close his eyes.
Day 5:
Sam, Caitlin, and Cas hovered at his side. They’d sit there, Sam and Cas to the
right and Caitlin to the left, talking to him, to each other across his
useless, limp body. The tube down his throat stayed firmly in place, keeping
him breathing and mute. Or maybe his vocal chords would be just as useless
without it. It’s not like he could ask anyone about it.
"Blink once for yes and twice for no." But, goddamn, how many yes and no
questions could they think of? And when they ran out and the conversation moved
on, all he could do was scream on the inside and wish for Sam's powers so he
could throw stuff around with his mind in the face of his physical immobility.
When the day’s most important question came, asked by a doctor, Dean blinked
once and kept his eyes open until they watered. Did he want them to operate
again, attempt to relieve some of the pressure on his spine? Hell yes!
And if they couldn’t, if it didn’t work, he’d like a nice clean overdose of the
good stuff. But he had no way to tell them that.
Day 7:
Caitlin entered the room with barely a greeting. Her shoulders sagged and her
feet dragged across the floor, until she stopped dead in her tracks.
“You’re off the ventilator,” she squealed and Dean smiled, honest to God smiled
at her.
“Yeah,” he said, voice so hoarse it came out a whisper. “How did it go today?”
Caitlin sighed. “Okay, I guess. I just… I miss Derek and Penny. I understand
why they can’t work this case anymore, but I, I trusted them. These new guys
seem decent enough, but they’re expecting me to tell them…” She trailed off,
head shaking. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to more days like this.”
Dean looked at her, eyes soft and serious. His gaze shifted to his hand,
resting at his side. Caitlin’s eyes followed and they both saw the hand twitch.
Their eyes met and Dean grinned at her.
“Wanna hold your hand,” he whispered.
She smiled, blinking back tears, and squeezed his hand.
Dean’s breath hitched and his eyes widened. “I felt that.”
Caitlin leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “See? The surgery helped.” She
looked around. “Where’s Sam, by the way?”
Dean gave her a sly smile. “Gettin’ burgers. First real meal in almost a week
and they want me to gobble down some smoothie shit.”
Caitlin narrowed her eyes at him. She let go of his hand and moved to the end
of the bed, snatching the chart from its place. She flipped through quickly.
Scowling at Dean, she pulled out her cell phone and called Sam.
It went to voicemail, as expected, but he wrote her back a few moments later.
?
DON’T FEED YOUR BROTHER BURGERS UNTIL AFTER FOUR PM WHEN THEY’VE FINISHED
TESTING THAT HE CAN ACTUALLY EAT SOLID FOOD!
Dean watched her type with apprehension. “Caitlin, what are you doing? Who are
you writing? It’s not Sam, is it? Caitlin, what’s he saying? What’s going on?”
His voice gained more and more power as he spoke, ending in a frantic rough
rumble.
-
Eventually, that night, Dean did get his burger. Sam held it out for him, and
Dean ate three huge bites with gusto, stopped and went green.
Caitlin smirked at him and held out an emesis basin just in time. “Now, follow
the hospital guidelines to get your stomach back to normal, before trying
again.”
Dean scowled.
Sam held out the burger again, question in his eyes.
Dean eyed it warily, considering. Finally, he shook his head no. He kept
looking like a human thundercloud the rest of the evening and nothing they said
could cheer him up.
Day 8:
“Hello.”
Dean, Sam, and Caitlin all dropped their jaws simultaneously.
Dean recovered first. “Cas, what… what is that?”
Cas looked around him, squinting. “What is what?”
“That, that blue thing, you’re wearing?”
Cas looked down and his eyes widened. Then his brows knit. “It’s my work
uniform. You don’t like it?”
Dean opened his mouth to speak but Caitlin beat him to it.
“I love it. It really brings out the color of your eyes, Cas. Where did you get
a job?” She frowned in concentration and move her hands as she spoke the final
question.
Sam watched and his eyes widened in surprise before he smiled at Cas.
Cas smiled even wider. “At the Gas ‘n Sip over on Central Avenue.” He
meticulously spelled G-A-S _ N _ S-I-P with his hands.
Sam gave him a double thumbs up.
Caitlin nodded. “That was a really good idea, getting a job. Now that we’re all
legitimate citizens, we should be worrying about legitimate money. I think I’ll
look for something to do as well.”
Dean gave her a mournful look and she smacked his shoulder playfully. “Don’t
worry, I’ll find something outside visiting hours. We’re not gonna let you rot
in here alone.” Dean’s frown deepened, his hands clenching and unclenching.
Sam stared into space, his expression sad and lost. Caitlin reached across Dean
to nudge his shoulder. “You could take sign language classes at the community
college, Sam.”
He nodded, sighing deeply.
Dean pursed his lips, his hands relaxing. “Or you could volunteer to give
dancing lessons at the retirement home, Samantha.”
Sam glared at him. Dean grinned insolently.
“I don’t know how he does it. He can’t hear a word I’m saying, but he just
knows.”
Caitlin fought not to smile. “You get this look, right before you tease him.
Like you’re about to take a dump. Your face scrunches up and wrinkles.”
Dean looked crestfallen. “Do not!”
Caitlin nodded, expression somber. “It makes you look at least fifty years old,
every time.”
“Fifty-year-old men can still walk,” came the bitter reply. Dean meticulously
turned as much of his body as he could control away from them and squeezed his
eyes shut.
Caitlin reached out a hand but stopped short of Dean’s stiff shoulder. “You’ll
walk again soon,” she whispered.
Dean didn’t move.
Day 9:
Caitlin entered the bar, her blouse tied in the front to reveal a few inches of
bare skin above the waistline of her jeans. It was early, only a few patrons
sitting around.
The bartender, a man in his forties, raised his eyebrows at her.
“There was a sign at the door,” Caitlin answered the unspoken question. “I’m
stranded here in town while a friend recovers from an accident. I could use
something to do outside hospital visiting hours.”
The man’s eyebrows rose even higher. “You ever bartend before?”
Caitlin pasted on a flirty grin. “Since I got my first fake ID. I know my way
around.”
The man nodded, offering her his hand. “I’m Hank.”
“Caitlin.” She shook hands with him and soon enough, she stood behind the bar,
pulling a draft for her new boss.
Day 16:
“Saul Mitchell, you are charged with sexually abusing your stepdaughter over a
period of six years, starting when she was ten years old. You are furthermore
charged with assaulting, kidnapping, and torturing your stepdaughter, holding
her captive against her will from March 6th to March 12th earlier this year,
and several accounts of attempted rape during that time. How do you plea?”
“Not guilty, your honor.”
“Your trial will begin December 3rd, 10 am.”
Saul was led from the courtroom. The bailiff returned with Cody and the
spectacle repeated itself. The list of charges was a lot longer, including
human trafficking of sex workers, additional accounts of kidnapping and rapes,
creating and distributing child pornography and pornography with non-consenting
participants, as well as six accounts of murder.
Cody spotted Caitlin sitting in the back row and stared daggers at her until
the bailiff deliberately positioned himself between them.
After his not guilty plea, he fell on his way out. The bailiff’s expression
stayed stony and detached but Sam swore up and down to Caitlin that the bailiff
tripped Cody himself.
Brad’s list of charges concerned only what he had done to Caitlin. He surprised
them all, pleading guilty.
“You understand that this means you will not be tried by a jury?”
Brad nodded. No lawyer at his side prodded him to speak. The bailiff stepped up
to him, whispering instructions.
Brad looked the judge in the eyes and spoke clearly. “Yes, I understand, your
honor.”
Leaving the courtroom, his eyes met Caitlin’s for the briefest of moments and
he stumbled, the bailiff catching him so he didn’t fall face first to the floor
as his brother had done earlier. After that, he kept his eyes on his feet until
he was out of sight.
In the brief recess before the next case, Caitlin carefully made her way to the
bailiff. “Excuse me, sir, I… can I ask you a question?”
The man’s eyes widened in recognition. “Of course, Miss Smith.”
“Brad won’t be put in a cell with the others, will he? When they find out he
pleaded guilty…”
“He won’t be. Don’t worry about it, Miss Smith. We know what we’re doing.”
“Thank you.”
                                     XOXOX
“Seriously, Caitie, how are you?” Dean watched her intently, his forehead
glistening with sweat and his arms still shaky after half an hour of physical
therapy.
When she’d asked him the same question, he’d smiled, too big not to be fake,
and told her “Peachy.” That didn’t explain why the PT had left in a hurry with
barely a goodbye, shoulders tensed halfway around his ears. She’d refrained
from asking Dean about it.
Dean sat propped up against a small mountain of pillows, wearing one of his own
plaid shirts unbuttoned over a white hospital undershirt. He had dark smudges
under his eyes, skin pale against what could no longer be referred to as
stubble but had turned into a full-fledged beard.
Caitlin pursed her lips in thought. “Better than I expected to be. But shaky.
Like, it wouldn’t take anything to start a flashback.”
Dean nodded. “Of course. You’re off work tonight, right?”
Caitlin looked sideways, out the window. “I might’ve promised Hank I’d cover
for Beth tonight. She’s down with the flu.”
Dean narrowed his eyes at her. “And you just felt like helping him out, from
the goodness of your heart and fuck your own sanity?”
Caitlin bit her lip. “The money’s good.”
“You asked for tonight off when you took the job. It’s one night.” Dean threw
his arms out and nearly knocked over the water next to his bed.
“I’m okay, Dean. It’s no big deal.” She watched his nostrils flare and his jaw
clench.
If I told you Hank threatened to fire me if I didn’t show, what would you do?
She reached out and took Dean’s hand, fingers smoothing over his scarred
knuckles. “I thought we’d agreed that I make my own decisions?”
“You agreed,” Dean grumbled, slowly relaxing back into the mountain of pillows.
He scratched his beard with his other hand.
She smiled cheekily at him. “The way I remember it, your brother, an angel, and
a small part of God himself, vouched for me. Sorry, you didn’t get a say.”
Dean grunted and scratched his beard again.
“Why don’t you shave that off?” Caitlin reached out to tug the hairs under his
chin.
Dean tensed and scowled. “Hey, it’s cool. It hides the weight I’ve lost. Can’t
get a decent meal here for shit. Prison food is better.” He squeezed his hand
around hers.
Caitlin pushed her front teeth together, hiding her wince of pain when he
squeezed her too hard.
Day 22:
Sam had walked the distance between their motel and the hospital so often it
had become routine.
The Doctors are impressed with Dean’s progress but they don’t expect him to get
back to 100 %. But he keeps acting like it’s nothing, like it’s just another
hospital stay and everything will get back to normal soon. Haven’t they told
him? Is he in denial himself or is he being an idiot, thinking he has to spare
me, somehow? Would he be acting that way if I wasn’t deaf?
Sam glanced up to see the “Sunny Days’ Nursing Home” sign above the gate next
to him.
Cas and Caitlin are working their asses off, and I’m good for nothing. I have
no idea what to do when…
Darkness.
Sam blinked his eyes open, tensed up and ready to fight against whoever had
knocked him out and… kept patting his cheek. He gaped at the older woman bent
over him, her mouth moving, brows knit in worry. His fingers scratched across
the pavement, the sky was still blue above him. His head thumped with a
hangover bordering on a post-vision migraine, which didn’t make sense because
he hadn’t been drinking. Had he?
The woman turned her head, mouth open wide, neck muscles strained. She returned
to patting Sam, his cheeks, his shoulders, his chest.
Sam swallowed and forced his lips to form words. “I think I’m okay.”
The woman broke into a relieved smile and began talking, arms and hands
gesticulating wildly.
“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.”
At the woman’s chagrined, near-panicked expression, Sam felt it necessary to
add. “I lost my hearing last month.”
Her mouth rounded in a sad, sympathetic “O.” Then she held up her index finger
as if to indicate that he should wait. Instead, she held out her hands to help
him up. Sam got to his feet with difficulty, fighting dizziness and trying not
to knock over the lithe, elderly woman attempting to support him.
She didn’t let go of his hand, dragged him through the gate to the nursing
home, up a long white-graveled driveway to the main entrance’ double doors.
The room beyond the doors was light and large, comfortable looking lounge
furniture scattered among various potted plants, indoor palm trees, and vines
growing up the walls and across the ceiling.
Soon Sam found himself sat on a soft couch, a bottle of water in his hand. A
middle-aged man in an ill-fitting suit, walked up to him and moved his hands.
Sam had spent most of his free time since they came here studying ASL, and the
man signed slowly in almost exaggerated movements.
“I’m Alfred. I work here.” Alfred pointed to the woman that brought Sam inside.
“Rebecca.”
Sam nodded politely at her. “I’m Sam.” Belatedly, he remembered to sign his
name as well.
Alfred smiled. “Becca says you lost your hearing recently?”
“Last month.” This time, Sam said the words and signed them simultaneously.
“Have the Doctors figured out a cause?”
Sam shook his head no.
“They never found one for me either.” Alfred chuckled at Sam’s obvious
surprise. “Happened almost ten years ago. For a time, I thought I would have to
give this up.” Alfred gestured, indicating the building surrounding them. “But
my wife, she didn’t want me to quit. Said I’d be an insufferable stay-at-home
husband. She made me look for solutions instead of problems.”
“How do you do it?”
“I’ve become pretty good at reading lips. I don’t have as much contact with our
residents as I used to and as I would like. I only hire staff that know ASL or
are willing to learn.”
“That’s… amazing.”
Alfred chuckled again. “I do feel lucky. But, Becca says you’re a lawsuit
waiting to happen. I’m supposed to apologize a million bazillion times because,
apparently, she threw a football that went off course and knocked you out.”
“That’s what happened? I got hit by a football?”
Rebecca nodded, eyes downcast.
Sam laughed, hands bracing his head against the pain as it wracked through him,
bordering on hysteria. When at last he got it under control, all he could say
was: “You should be playing in the NBA, Rebecca.”
She met his eyes, suddenly grinning. “Thank you, Sam.”
Smiling back, Sam waved her off. “It’s true.” He caught Alfred looking intently
at him.
“It looks like you’re already getting the hang of reading lips,” he signed.
Sam blinked and realized that he had understood Rebecca without being able to
hear her. He shrugged. “Maybe.” He stood, sure the conversation was just about
over, apology and forgiveness given.
“Wait a second,” Alfred said. “Sam, are you any good with your hands?”
Sam frowned, confused. “Maybe. Why?”
“We’ve got some leaking faucets, a few walls that could use a new coat of
paint, our gardener complains that the lawn mower keeps drowning. You speak
ASL, you’ll be reading lips in no time, and you were incredibly nice to Becca,
so I’d like to offer you a job. Are you up for it?”
Day 47:
“I think there’s a hunt at the retirement home.”
Dean turned in the wheelchair to look up at Sam. “Seriously, Sammy? We’re not
even out the front doors yet.”
Sam smiled ruefully. “I know, that wasn’t… Just thinking out loud, I guess.
It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
They did pass the front doors then, the Impala gleaming in the sunlight some
fifty yards down the street.
The second the doors closed behind them, Dean pulled the brake on the
wheelchair and got out of it. The hateful kick he aimed at one of the wheels
would have held more spite if he hadn’t needed to hold onto the handles to keep
his balance.
He did his best to loom over Sam, the way he always did before, even after Sam
outgrew him. Unsteady on his feet and feeling every pound of muscle he’d lost,
the best he could do was glare. Upwards. “You’re not hunting alone. It’s too
dangerous. Call someone else, got it?”
Sam grinned and slapped Dean’s shoulder. “Was planning to.”
Dean raised his eyebrows and put a hand to his chest in mock pain. “So that’s
how it is, huh? Trying to give your poor, crippled big brother a freakin’ heart
attack on top of everything else?”
Sam scrunched up his face, processing. “I didn’t catch that,” he finally
lamented. “Unless you said something about a boar, nippled pig mother. And was
there something about an art attic?”
Dean flipped him off, not quite managing to bend his index finger.
Sam grinned. “How very British.” He put an arm around Dean’s shoulders and
steered him away from the wheelchair. “Come on, let’s get you home and put some
real food in you. You can get back at me when you’ve had some of that pie
Caitlin made for you before going to work.”
***** Moving On *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
18 months later:
“Dean!” Caitlin squeezed between two stacks of boxes, higher than herself.
She found him in the kitchen, staring at a metal circle between two handles.
“What the fuck is this?”
“It’s a corn cob scraper.” She sighed.
“Why do we have a corn cob scraper?”
“To scrape kernels off the cobs. Can’t you just put it in the box?”
“But I’m gonna hafta carry the box to the truck and from the truck to the
house. I’m not gonna pack stuff we don’t need.”
Caitlin crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. “I used it
three days ago for that cream corn you gushed over so hard, I thought you’d
sleep with it and banish me to the couch.”
Dean’s eyes widened. He pursed his lips and scrutinized the scraper for all of
two seconds before tossing it into the open box next to him. With a shrug, he
picked another item from the drawer. He stared at it. “What the fuck is-”
“Just throw it out. I only ever use it when I make pies and I don’t think I’m
gonna do that anymore.”
Faster than lightning, Dean put the thing in the box.
Caitlin smiled, shaking her head. “Dean, I just wanted to know if you and Sam
agreed on when to pick up the appliances this weekend?”
Dean buried his hands, elbows deep, in the kitchen drawer, feeling for more
stuff. “Yeah, um, sure.”
“So when are you picking them up?”
He glanced up, eyes wide. “Saturday, I guess. Or Sunday, maybe.”
Caitlin glared at him until she burst out laughing. “Jeez, you’re tired. Why
don’t you take a break. I’ll text Eileen and figure it out.”
“Yeah, okay.” Dean sighed and threw himself on the couch. He ran a shaking hand
across his face and let his eyes drift shut.
He woke up to Caitlin gently massaging his neck and shoulders. “Mwhah?”
She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I talked to the company and the houses are
so close and the total order for all of us is big enough to warrant free
delivery, so that’s taken care of.”
“Mmh.” Dean pulled her closer, overbalancing her. He made an ‘oof’ sound when
her weight hit him. Then he wrapped his arms and legs around her and kept her
there.
“Are you secretly an octopus?” Caitlin relaxed against him.
“No, I’m a homeowner. But if you’d asked me ten years ago if I thought I’d end
up as an octopus or as a homeowner, I’d have gone with octopus.” He lifted his
head a bit to look her in the eyes. “It’s weird how bizarre it feels to be
normal.”
“You’ll never be normal. Doing normal stuff won’t change who you are. You’ll
never be a civilian, Dean.”
He squashed her tight against him, chuckling at the way her breath whooshed out
of her lungs. “You’re right. I just… Fuck, I…”
“I know. I get it. But, Dean, you would have had to stop someday no matter
what. You could have ended up dead or far worse off than this. Anyone who
didn’t know you before will barely notice that you’re a bit more clumsy than
most. There’s still so much you can do.”
“But I can’t hunt. I can’t save lives. If something ever happens to you, or to
Sam, Cas, Eileen… I can’t protect you.”
“I know. That’s life for most people. You can still do a lot of good.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
Caitlin was silent for a while. “You could help Sam with research.”
“Or I could get a job at Biggerson’s, flipping burgers. No way, I’m gonna sit
and read about monsters and lore and not get to kill ‘em myself.” Dean’s eyes
turned distant, and his grip around Caitlin tightened enough to hurt. He really
needed a drink.
“I bet you’d be employee of the month all through the year.” Caitlin smiled.
“You’d look so dashing in their uniforms, with the cap and the stripes-” She
cut off, squealing, when Dean tickled her sides.
Her phone buzzed and bought her a respite as she read the text, almost
hiccuping from laughing too hard.
“Who’s writing? Did Charlie kill Garcia’s character? Has Cas been arrested
again? Is it Eileen?”
“It’s from Brad.” Caitlin showed him the message, sad smile on her lips.
I JUST WANTED TO WISH YOU GOOD LUCK IN KANSAS CITY. YOU’LL BE A GREAT DOCTOR. I
HOPE EVERYTHING IS GOING ACCORDING TO PLAN WITH THE BIG MOVE. ALL THE BEST, -
BRAD
Dean read with a frown. “You gonna answer?”
Caitlin sighed. “I don’t know. I hate knowing his psychiatrist’s reading over
his shoulder. My answer wouldn’t be just for him.”
“I know he hasn’t had it easy but I still don’t get how you can forgive him.”
“You weren’t there for his trial. It’s his story to tell, but trust me; he
already paid his dues and some.”
“You mean they… Nevermind. I don’t wanna know.” Dean shook his head, holding
Caitlin tighter to him. “Will you have to go back here and testify every other
week when Cody’s appeal starts?”
“I’m sure they’ll ask me to.” Caitlin shrugged. “I won’t.”
Dean opened his mouth.
She spoke first. “I know they might repeal his death penalty without my
testimony but he’ll be behind bars for the rest of his life either way. Cody
might deserve to die but I’m against capital punishment on principle.”
Dean raised his eyebrows, questioning.
“Sure, there are humans worse than any monster you and Sam ever hunted, but
once they’ve been caught and locked up, they’re not doing any more harm. How do
you tell the difference between them and the people that might have been
possessed or influenced by something that will never be acknowledged in a
courtroom? How do you tell the difference between a Brad and a Cody if you’re
not smack in the middle of it? I didn’t even know the difference when I was
sixteen, would never have known if they hadn’t gotten me back.”
“But what if he ever gets out? Some bureaucratic mistake, a legal technicality,
early parole due to good behavior. As long as he’s alive there’s always a
risk.”
“He’s not the only threat out there. There’s Djinns and Demons and Daevas and
drunk drivers and diseases, just to mention a few beginning with the letter d.
I spent ten years in hiding, playing it safe. I’m done living in fear.”
Dean let out a deep breath when she nuzzled close, her nose tickling his neck.
For a while, they just lay there. Then Dean spoke, his voice rougher than
usual. “I’m surprised you don’t think Sam and I are killers, with that
attitude.”
“Dean. You protected people. It’s not like there’s a court or a prison for
human eating or killing, sentient creatures out there.”
“Always so rational.” Dean licked Caitlin’s cheek, laughing when she tried to
get away, sputtering in mock outrage.
The licks turned to kisses and the kisses turned to nibbles. Caitlin gave in
with a content little sigh, ending in a gasp when Dean used enough pressure to
make her really feel his teeth around her earlobe.
Dean snuck a hand under her blouse and undid her bra.
The doorbell rang.
Dean huffed a half laugh, half sigh as Caitlin sat up and redid her bra clasp.
“Can’t we just ignore it?”
Her eyes softened and her movements slowed. “What if it’s important?”
“They can leave a note.” Dean’s hand snaked up her back again, destination
obvious.
The doorbell rang again, followed by a quick rapping rhythm, Dean knew all too
well. He let his hand fall with a sigh of regret. “Or they might unlock the
door, since we were dumb enough to give ‘em a key.”
They scrambled to their feet and looked halfway respectable when their front
door opened to reveal Sam and Eileen.
Looking at Dean and Caitlin’s still frazzled appearance, Sam grinned. “I’m
sorry, are we interrupting something?”
Dean flipped him off. “I thought you guys were busy in Kansas, painting
protective sigils in invisible ink?” He signed a few keywords out of habit,
though Sam most likely understood just fine, interpreting the movements of
Dean’s lips.
“Yeah, we just… something came up. I wanted to tell you in person.” Sam did
that weird thing where it looked like he was looking up from under his lashes,
all shy and uncertain.
Dean’s jaw clenched, wrinkles of worry creasing his forehead. “Sammy, what’s
wrong?”
Sam sputtered. “No, no. It’s not like that, nothing bad. But… It’s just… I
guess Eileen and I will have to stop hunting, too.”
Dean looked between them, mouth open and eyes wide.
Caitlin broke into a wide grin, something unspoken passing between her and
Eileen. “Congratulations, you guys,” she exclaimed, hugging first Eileen and
then Sam.
“Could someone tell me what’s going on?” Dean grumbled.
Caitlin bit her lip and watched Sam expectantly.
Sam smiled wide, dimples carved into his cheeks. “You’re going to be an uncle,
Dee.”
Dean’s eyes went impossibly wider, his mouth agape. A blissful smile slowly
spread before he froze, frowned, and narrowed his eyes. “If this is some stupid
joke about that mutt you’re planning to adopt-”
“No joke. Though we do plan to get a dog, now that we won’t be traveling as
much as expected.” Sam grinned. He sobered a little. “Dean, I know you don’t
like talking about it but you practically raised me, man. You’ll be there,
right? If I need help?”
Dean swallowed hard and engulfed Sam in a crushing hug. “Of course, little
brother.”
They didn’t get any more stuff packed that day, leaving the chaos behind to eat
out.
Over dessert, Dean nudged Sam. “So what are you gonna do, college boy, if
you’re not hunting?”
Sam chuckled. “Be a college boy, I guess. Charlie dug up my old scholarship and
refurbished it. I guess I’m going back to law school. I won’t become a
procedural lawyer as long as I’m deaf but I guess pushing pens isn’t so bad.”
Dean glowed with pride. “That’s… Holy fuck, Sam, that’s awesome.” He put his
hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m really happy for you, man.”
“Thanks.” Sam took another bite of his salad and chewed slowly. “So, what about
you, Dean? Any idea what you’ll do with your time while Caitlin’s busy at the
hospital?”
Dean made an awkward shrug and lowered his gaze to his plate. A sly smile
appeared on his lips. “Maybe I should take some child-rearing classes. At least
one of us should know what we’re doing, this time.”
Eileen almost choked on her water.
Sam kicked Dean under the table, his expression grateful. “You didn’t do too
bad the first time around, you know.”
Dean grinned and Sam knew he walked right into what was coming.
“Imagine what you could’ve achieved if I had known more, college boy.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
                                     XOXOX
It was late, they were both a little buzzed from toasting so many times, when
Caitlin turned to trace the handprint on Dean’s shoulder with a finger. “Did
you mean it?”
Dean, almost asleep, grunted, opening one eye halfway. “Meanwha?”
“You, working with kids?”
Dean shrugged. “Dunno. Those ankle biters can be vicious.”
“But not as scary as monsters, right?”
“Way scarier.” Dean smiled. “I guess they’d be easier to handle than engine
parts, these days.”
“I never told you, but when the Djinn had me, I dreamed of you. Us. Together.”
Caitlin blushed.
“You did?” Dean pulled her closer. “What was it like?”
“You…” She smiled, her cheeks heating further. “You were a nurse at the
pediatrics ward. You were amazing with the kids.”
Dean gaped at her. “A nurse?”
She nodded, biting her lip.
Dean pursed his lips and tilted his head, considering. “Don’t nurses usually
end up marrying handsome doctors?”
“Shut up, Winchester.”
“Why? You could be Doctor Winchester, parading you trophy spouse, nurse
Winchester around at fundraisers. Doc Winchester’s got a nice ring to it, don’t
it?”
“Dean, seriously, can it.” Caitlin rolled away and lay on her back. “You’re
such an ass.”
Laughing, Dean poked her side. “You’re the one who dreamt me as a nurse, Doc.”
Caitlin glared at him with narrowed eyes. “I did. I saw you put a glove over
your head and down over your nose, making it look like a pig’s snout and blow
air into the glove until it came off your head, whizzing across the room.”
Dean laughed harder. “That’s… that’s priceless. Next time I get my hands on a
glove, I’ll try it.”
“Screw you.”
“Really? I thought you were mad at me?”
“Dean!”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll stop. Sleep tight, Caitie.”
Caitlin turned to kiss him goodnight. “You too, nurse Dean.”
“Whatever.”
 
FIN
Chapter End Notes
     This is it.
     The end.
     We made it.
     Somehow, we all made it.
     Some of the characters may be a bit worse for wear but I really
     believe good things are coming to them.
     Keep your eyes open for more extras. I plan to write them over the
     next few months.
     Thank you, everyone, who read this far.
     Please don't hesitate to leave a comment, I love to hear your
     thoughts.
     Constructive criticism is more than welcome.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!