Summary: John makes use of unconventional methods to find the demon that killed his wife, leaving Dean in a difficult position while Sara discovers more about her family. Pre-series, no pairings.
This story involves Sara Lucian, a character from most of my other Supernatural stories. Sara is a friend (and nothing more) of Dean who specialises in exorcisms and was trained by her mother, just as Dean was trained by John. Reading the other stories is probably not essential to understand this one.
The next chapter should be up in a week. Reviews are hugely appreciated.
xxx
New York State,
August 2004,
John Winchester sat alone in a corner of the bar, a glass of scotch in front of him. This place, with its live band and almost obnoxiously cheerful clientele, wasn't the sort that John would have normally chosen. But then, this wasn't exactly a normal situation.
Twenty-one years. It had been almost twenty-one years since Mary had died, burnt to a crisp right above him. Since John had found out that every time he'd told his son that there was no monster under the bed or in the closet, he'd been lying. Since John had started a crusade, a quest, a whatever-this-was to kill the evil son of a bitch who had killed his wife and destroyed his family and future.
And all of that would have been a lot less aggravating to John if he had something to show for almost two decades of hunting. While he had managed to find allies, keep his sons safe, save God only knew how many people, he had yet to find out anything about the demon that had killed Mary. You'd think pinning someone to the ceiling and setting them on fire would be a unique enough MO, but no one John had ever found had had any idea about what demon did that, let alone how to find it.
Thorough research of his own had revealed a spate of other nursery fires, all on the kid's six month birthday, all of them in, as far as he could see, the year after Mary's death. Whatever the demon had been doing, it seemed to have stopped years ago, but John was certain it was still around. All he had to do was find it, and then it was going to pay.
It was due to the current impossibility of finding the demon that John was even here in the first place. If his information was correct – and it probably was, Bobby Singer was called the best for a reason – there was someone here who could help him. And John had just the right leverage to make sure he got what he wanted.
As the band finally shut up and got off the stage, John drained his glass and slipped through out of the door, heading around to the back of the building. Singer had warned him about this guy's paranoia, and John could understand why, but he didn't have the time or the patience to deal with it properly. Slipping in through the back door, he made his way to the room where he'd been told the lead singer of the band would be.
The door opened just as he reached it. "You must be Winchester."
John nodded. "You Li?"
"Yeah," the man replied. "Come on in."
He did so, taking a moment to appraise his new-found source. Li didn't look at all Chinese, which meant the name was probably short for something. Tall, slim build, blonde hair with just a trace of red-gold. Tanned skin, wary eyes. Not a Hunter, although that was more a guess than an observation.
"Bobby tell you why I came?"
Li nodded. "Yeah. Also told me I should feel free to, and I quote, 'fill you full of buckshot'."
"We've had our differences," John agreed. "Gotta say, I was surprised to find that a Hunter knew how to find me a Deathwalker."
"I can't help your prejudices. So I can go past the River Styx and back at will, big deal. Doesn't make me any less human. And if you're here to try and kill me, can we get it over with? I've got things to do."
"I need your help."
"Yeah, gathered that much from Singer," Li replied. "And what you're asking isn't easy."
"All I want is for you to go into the Underworld and find me someone who was killed by this demon."
"And I can't do that, Winchester. I can only find the spirits that I know, and believe me, none of my people were ever killed by the guy who went after you."
"So how do you explain all the help you gave to Amelia Lucian over the years?"
It was a dangerous move, John knew. Amelia Lucian had once been a valued member of the Hunting community, holding the undisputed title of Best Exorcist. But she had died almost two years previously, and John had been sorry to see her go. Although, not as sorry as Li had been, John was sure.
Li crossed his arms. "Well, she did say you were a nosy bastard."
"She told you about me?" John asked.
"Yeah. Told me if you ever turned up, I should start running afore you got out of your truck. You have quite the way with people," Li said with a sardonic smile. "She never trusted you, if that's what you were asking."
"Same goes for you."
"I was never a threat to her."
"What about to her daughter?"
"Nor to the little one, neither. Now, you quite done rattling my cage?"
"So how did you help Amelia?"
"Doesn't matter. The ritual I used to get her information won't work anymore." Li caught John's look. "Okay, fine. Instead of going to the Happy Hunting Grounds, I went into Hell once or twice. It's not something I would recommend, and it's not something I can do without someone who has some sorta relationship with me to stand on the banks of the River Styx and help me get back. Happy now?"
John nodded slowly. "Gettin' there."
xxx
Black Earth, Wisconsin
"Are they still at it?"
Dean turned to glance out of the kitchen window. "Yep. That makes it, what, forty minutes?"
"At least," Will Atwood replied, glancing through one of the heaps of paper that was currently covering the kitchen table.
"I don't get it," Dean said absently. "I mean, sparring, I get. Target practice, I get. I don't get fencing."
Out on the grass behind the house, Sara Lucian blocked a strike from Adrian, Will's older brother. Both were armed with efficient looking swords and, even more bizarrely, both were grinning.
Will shrugged. He was more than used to his brother's quirks, and the two Atwoods had been friends with Sara for well over a decade. Dean was the newcomer, at least speaking relatively he was. He'd known Sara for six years, been working with her full-time for almost two, but he still wasn't used to this skill of hers.
"Where the hell did she even learn to do that?"
"School, I think," Will said. "Least, they've been doing that ever since I knew her. Shouldn't you be used to it already?"
"Used to a pair of 21st century Hunters kicking the shit out of each other with broadswords?"
Will grinned. "Okay, I'll admit it's a little odd. But wasn't Sara telling me yesterday that you made your first sawn-off in eighth grade?"
"Sixth, actually. But shotguns are way more practical than swords."
"Firstly, I've never heard of a sword running out of ammo at a crucial moment. And secondly, you're just annoyed that she can whup your ass with medieval weaponry." Will paused. "Dean, is Sara okay?"
It was Dean's turn to shrug. The last year had been a little hectic, including the two of them having to dig up every single person who had died in a bus crash, and although they had tried to see the Atwoods at least once a month, they hadn't always managed long visits, normally just staying long enough for Sara to swop a few reference books and do this little sparring ritual with Adrian. Will's question was certainly a valid one. Dean just wasn't sure about how to form a valid answer. Since witnessing Sara perform an exorcism a year before, the first time he'd ever seen her do that, Dean had had a few moments for concern over the last twelve months. Mostly just after the few exorcisms Sara had done. But she was getting better at that. He thought.
"Dude, we all have bad days," he said finally. Every Hunter had something they couldn't stand. For Dean, it was kids being involved. The only problem was that Sara's aversion sometimes seemed to be the exorcisms she had dedicated her life to. "She ain't about to leap into any hell dimensions or anything."
"Not without her little terrier following her, at any rate."
"Little?"
Will grinned again. "Come on, help me take this stuff outside."
Dean grabbed an armful of Will's notes and followed him outside. The Atwoods' house was just outside Black Earth, and the two brothers had lived there for years. It was pleasantly lived-in, unlike many Hunters' homes, and Sara's had moved in after her mother's death. She'd then gone on to live on the road with Dean, but she still thought of this place as 'home'. Dean had been dragged in not entirely against his will.
"Oi!" he yelled. "Adrian, stop beating up Sara. I need her fit to hunt."
Sara finished the bout by tripping Adrian up and yanking his sword from his hand before sticking her tongue out at Dean and helping Adrian back to his feet. The two of them walked to the wooden deck where Will was laying out his notes. The younger Atwood had become a skilled tracker over the years, and they'd all agreed to let him deal with the actual details of any hunt involving either Atwood.
This one, though, this one involved all four of them.
"Okay, little brother," Adrian sat, sitting down on the deck's chunky railing. The nickname gave Dean a brief pang of longing, but Sam had been gone for two years. The ache was still there, but dulled. "Earn your keep."
"Alright. Wyoming. Suspicious deaths, specifically, in Wyoming."
"It's always suspicious deaths," Sara said, mock sadly. "Why can't we go somewhere for a swop-meet?"
Will glared at her, albeit affectionately. "Shut it. Suspicious deaths," he repeated.
"Yes, we know," Dean said.
"Fine. Werewolves."
Dean actually whooped.
"And you say I'm ridiculous about this sort of thing," Adrian said.
Sara hit Dean smartly on the arm. "So... werewolves?"
"Yep. Good news, we've got more'n week 'till the next full moon. Once the moon's out, we have three days to find and smoke the bad doggies."
"Bad news?"
"Judging from the tracks, the reports, the death rates, it's not just one or two. We're talking about a whole pack. Maybe a dozen wolves in all, but it's very unlikely to be any more than that."
"So that's why you wanted me and Sara here?" Dean said.
"Well, it wasn't for your sparkling conversation."
"Ingrate," Sara said. "Okay, so lots of werewolves. Lots of silver bullets?"
"It is traditional. Do we have enough?" Adrian asked.
"A few magazines each, 9mm. That should be enough, right?"
"Four of us, a few full magazines, a dozen or more werewolves. Sounds about right," Dean said. "Sara? What're you thinking?"
"Hunting rifle. Might be able to pick a few off from a serious distance."
Adrian nodded slowly, thinking it through. "We have to get them all in one night, realistically speaking. Once a few are down and the others figure it out, they'll scatter. Taking a few out with minimal risk to ourselves, always a bonus. Dean, you're the resident sharp-shooter-"
"-Not to mention, the owner of one truly awesome rifle-" Will added.
"-So do you want to handle this side of things?" Adrian finished.
Dean nodded. "Teams of two. Use the daylight to scope out the area, find their hunting ground." He paused. "Tell me they're not in a city."
"Nah. One of the mountain ranges, but in the lowlands. Few camping grounds around, so easy hunting for the wolves."
"Missing campers?"
"Yeah. Well, some missing-presumed-dead, some others were found... Well, most of them were found," Will said, pulling a list out from one of the piles.
"Tore apart, eaten?"
"Tooth-marks," Will confirmed. "I have autopsy photos, if anyone really wants to see."
Dean waved the offer off. "Spare me."
"Do we know what kind of werewolves they are?" Sara asked. "Standard issue or lupe garou?"
"Doesn't matter. Either they have no idea what they're doing, in which we gotta stop them, or they know and they don't care, in which case we're still the good guys here," Dean said. "But, thinking about it, they must be the latter, right? I mean, they hole up in the perfect place to get all the sport they need once a month. That can't be just coincidence."
"Be nicer if it was, so, yeah, you're probably right," Adrian said with a rueful smile.
"Well, the locals are talking about wolves, found some paw prints and such like," Will added. "It's only the lupe garou that turn completely into wolves. Standards just get the teeth and claws, normally."
"So we'll have to avoid everyone while we're there. No telling who goes furry when the moon goes down."
"Alright, so how about we head out tomorrow?" Sara said. "Get to this place, try and be subtle, see how it goes?"
The boys all nodded.
"We're going to have to be careful," Dean said. "I mean, if they're all garou, we're fighting wolves with the intelligence of humans."
"We'll need silver bullets for the rifle, as well," Sara said.
"Ah, you just want to see Caleb again," Adrian said, smiling.
Sara shoved him off the deck's railing as Will started laughing. "Hey, bro, it's not her fault if years hanging around us has caused a catastrophic lowering in her standards."
"Don't call Caleb a 'catastrophic lowering in my standards'," Sara said, but she was grinning. "God, I hate being the only girl you guys ever talk to."
Dean smirked as the two brothers started up almost identical sounds of protest. When his phone rang, tinny rock strains barely audible over the squabbling, he fished it out of his pocket and hopped down from the deck.
"Hello?" he said, walking away from the house.
"Dean? Where are you?"
That was his dad, of course. Always with the business. "Black Earth, the Atwoods' place. We've been working on a hunt."
"All four of you?"
"Yeah, Sara has this thing against walking into Hell alone. You ok?"
"I'm fine. Can your hunt wait a few days?"
Dean frowned. "Yeah, I guess. You want my help?"
"Feel like a little insurance might be a good thing on this one. Bring Sara."
"Uh, sure. We'll be there tomorrow evening. Dad, what's going on?"
"I might have a lead on the demon that killed your mother."