AUTHOR'S NOTE: My first Supernatural fan fiction. I am going to put more notes at the end. This takes place after AHBLp2. The first draft had no sex, I swear, but during my rewrite it just… appeared.
Feedback is much appreciated.
Just for fun. No money made.
After the Fight
Dean Winchester stole a glance at his sleeping brother. He looked uncomfortable, his long legs wedged under the dashboard and his head tilted against the window. He could almost laugh at Sam's open-mouthed drool fest, if the demon's words would stop echoing in his head.
How certain are you that what you brought back is 100 pure Sam?
The demon had been playing with him. He knew that, but…
Sam stirred and stretched his arms in front of him. "Hey."
"Hey. Breakfast?" Dean asked pointing to the IHOP sign ahead.
"Sure," Sam answered reaching into the backseat for his laptop.
Twenty minutes later they were seated at a booth, two cups of coffee on the table.
"So you said last night you thought you found something. It's only been a week. You sure…"
"I'm fine, Dean. Besides I'm not sure this is even one for us."
"Why?" Dean asked leaning back in his seat.
"It's strange, but…" Sam said shrugging his shoulders.
"Just tell me," Dean said getting annoyed.
"I am. This girl, Taylor Stapleton has had some bad luck."
"What kind of bad luck?" Dean smiled at the cute blond waitress who brought their food. "Thank you."
"Dean," Sam said pulling his brother's attention from the skirt walking away.
"Yeah, Taylor something. Bad luck."
"Right. Starting five years ago, her whole family has died under strange circumstances." He turned the computer around so Dean could see.
"Strange circumstances?" Dean asked around a mouthful of eggs.
"Her sister, Kristin, died first. She drowned."
"And?" Dean asked.
"She was a varsity swimmer training for the next Olympic trials. There was no evidence she was injured in anyway. Plus, the pool's video camera's mysteriously stopped working for ten minutes. Nothing but static," Sam said poking at his breakfast. Dean noticed he still wasn't eating, just moving the food around.
"Are you going to eat that or what?" Dean asked.
"I'm not hungry," Sam mumbled setting his fork down.
"Sam…"
"Give it a rest, Dean," Sam said pushing the plate away. "I said I wasn't hungry."
"Fine," Dean said stabbing angrily at his pancakes. "Tell me more about Taylor."
"Her parents died next. They went for a drive in the mountains and never came back. Their car was found at the bottom of a ravine."
"Car accident," Dean said finishing his coffee.
"Maybe, but the car was checked, and there was nothing wrong with it."
Dean smiled as the waitress refilled his coffee cup, his attention again on the skirt walking away.
"Dean, don't hurt yourself man," Sam said turning the computer back.
"What?" Dean asked his attention back on his brother.
"Never mind," Sam said shaking his head. "After her parent's death, Taylor moved to Dallas where she meet Tom Heaton. They were together for a year when he took a header out of his thirty-story office window. The authorities were stumped as to how he managed to break the shatter proof glass."
"Where's Taylor now?" Dean asked.
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Granger Texas, population 467, twenty miles from the interstate, blink and you miss it. The one stoplight between the local grocery store and the post office flashed red in both directions.
Sam groaned as he closed the computer and looked around the small town. "I can see why there isn't much about this town on the Internet. There isn't much to this town."
"You have Taylor's address?" Dean asked pulling in front of a diner.
"Yeah, found it last night while you were sleeping," he said not looking at his brother.
"You were supposed to be sleeping too," Dean said turning the car off.
"I'm fine…"
"Quit saying that. You are not fine." Dean angrily opened his door.
"Enough, Dean," Sam said following him.
Dean glared at him, but dropped the subject.
"How you boys doing?" the waitress asked smiling sweetly. The diner was quiet. A trucker sat at the counter eating. A young mother with a toddler and a baby was busy trying to get the screaming toddler to eat a stack of pancakes.
Dean gave the waitress one of his charming smiles. "We're good. We'd like some coffee."
"You 'all visiting someone?" she asked.
"Yes, Taylor Stapleton," Sam said opening his menu.
The smile left the woman's face. "Poor child."
"Excuse me?" Sam asked innocently.
"Are you family? Because we were under the impression she had no family left," she said.
"Family friends actually. We're just checking up on her," Dean said with a charming smile.
"So much loss. Only so much one person can take. I don't blame her."
"Blame her?" Dean asked eyeing Sam.
"You don't know?" she asked suspiciously.
"We haven't seen her since she moved back. Is everything ok?" Sam asked.
"After the death of her boyfriend, such a sweet boy." She shook her head. "She locked herself in that big house and hasn't come out."
"Come again," Dean said.
"She hasn't been out of that house in more than two years," the bell over the door jingled. "I'll be back with your coffee in a minute."
"OhKay," Sam said his eyebrows raised.
"Two years," Dean mumbled.
Sam shrugged and smiled as the waitress set two cups of coffee on the table.
"What can I get you 'all?" she asked the smile back on her face.
"I'll have the special with scrambled eggs," Dean said returning her smile.
"I'll have the same, but I want my eggs sunny side up."
"Hungry today?" Dean asked after the waitress left.
"Yes, starving," he answered adding cream and sugar to his coffee.
"Good." Dean took his time adding his cream and sugar. He wasn't one to fuss. He took pride in the fact that he didn't fuss, but Sam had been dead and the demon… He shook his head. The demon was dead, and Sam was alive.
"So after we eat you can drop me off at the library."
"There's a library?"
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"Dude, you look like that cat that ate the canary." The smile on Sam's face was genuine, and Dean couldn't help but return it. Sam slid into his seat handing Dean a large stack of papers. "What's this?"
"Look," Sam said eagerly grabbing the papers back and shuffling through them. "The town's police force consists of the sheriff and one deputy. So the state police were called in to investigate the Stapleton deaths. The librarian was very helpful," he smirked at Dean.
"What did you tell her?" Dean asked.
"That I was a private investigator hired by the insurance company to make sure the accidents were accidents."
"She bought that, after so many years," Dean said skeptically.
Sam shrugged. He handed the reports to Dean. "Kristin's death was ruled an accidental drowning. There was no trauma found on the body, just water in her lungs. The Stapleton's death was also ruled an accident, too much speed on a winding road. But Tom Heaton's death is still under investigation."
"Why?" Dean asked.
"To many questions. Also, Taylor was present at the time."
"Damn," Dean muttered.
"Yeah, the report states that at the time of the investigation she was in shock and unable to give a statement. But, get this, later on she was considered a suspect."
"They think she threw a grown man out a window?" Dean asked.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, we never thought cops were very bright."
"That's an understatement," Dean said.
"Anyway, look at this. The article on the Internet said that there was nothing wrong with the car, but…" he pulled a picture from the pile.
"Is that?" This just got a lot more interesting.
"It's a symbol, burnt into the seats. I can't find it anywhere. I'm not sure what it means." He pulled two more pictures out. "But look, the same symbol was on the wall by the pool and in Tom Heaton's office."
"No idea what it means?"
Sam shook his head. "Did you find out anything?"
"The delivery boy at the market thinks she's crazy, but he's thirteen. Most of the town feels sorry for her." He shrugged and pulled away from the library. "I think it's time to talk to Taylor Stapleton."
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"She lives here?" Dean asked, scanning the old Victorian house located at the end of a long driveway about three miles from town.
The two-story house was deep red with white shutters, and the well-maintained lawn led up to a wrap around porch. The house was dark, no lights coming from any of the windows. On closer inspection Dean saw the windows were covered in wood.
"Paranoid or crazy?"
"What?" Sam asked.
"Nothing." Dean got out of the car, and Sam followed him to the trunk.
Dean grabbed two 9mms, handing one to Sam. In turn, Sam grabbed two Riot knives and handed one to Dean who strapped it to his ankle. Before reaching the front door the 9mms were safely tucked under three layers of clothing.
The door opened slowly before either could knock.
"That's mildly creepy," Dean said his hand instinctively going for his gun. Sam pushed the large wooden door open further. Darkness prevented an inspection of the room.
"Dean, flashlight," Sam said stepping into the house. Dean took the small flashlight out of his coat pocket. Stepping around Sam, who pulled out his own flashlight, he turned it on, illuminating the entryway.
"Sam," Dean said pointing to the salt line on the floor.
"They're under the windows too," Sam said motioning to the window behind them. Suddenly, the door swung shut.
"Son of a bitch." Dean's motion towards the door stopped as the lights came on. The entryway was decorated in classic Victorian style, dark wood cornices contrasting with the dark green paint of the walls. Standing in stark contrast was a large metal safe, the door hanging open, beside the front door.
"Hello, boys," a disembodied voice echoed through the room. "Weapons please."
"Excuse me," Dean said not moving. A large knife embedded itself in the wall next to his head.
"Next time my aim will be more precise."
"Come on, Dude. It's just a girl," Sam said setting his 9mm in the safe.
Dean eyed the knife in the wall. "Do I need to remind you that a girl broke your wrist."
"That doesn't count. She was a zombie."
"I swear if this comes back to bite me in the ass…" Dean whined but set his 9mm next to Sam's.
"Ah, ah," the voice said as the boys tried to walk into the sitting room. A metal detector in the wall beeped annoyingly at them. "All your weapons."
Dean growled at Sam, but they removed their weapons and placed them in the safe. It closed by itself and locked.
"Great," Dean said walking into the sitting room, the metal detector still beeping.
"Dean…" Sam said.
"I didn't expect him to give them all up. What kind of hunter would he be?"
The brunette appeared around the corner. Taylor Stapleton looked nothing like the picture Sam had pulled up on the Internet. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a loose bun, pieces falling around her face. There was no makeup on her face to conceal the dark circles under her eyes. The cutoff shorts and blue tank accentuated her toned but strikingly pale body. A silver 9mm hung limply from her hand.
"Hello," Dean said not taking his eyes off the gun.
"Sam and Dean Winchester. I expected more," she said walking out of the room.
"Hey," Dean said following her.
"You want a beer?" she asked from the kitchen.
"It's 9:30 in the morning," Sam said.
Taylor ignored him, placing the gun on the counter and grabbed a beer from the fridge. She popped the top and drank half before picking the gun back up.
"How do you know who we are?" Dean asked.
"It's what I do," she said shrugging her shoulders. She leaned against the counter and laughed at their confused expressions. "Research. It's amazing what you can find on the Internet, and what a little sweet talking can get people to reveal."
She smirked at them.
"What?" Dean asked.
"You guys leave a lasting impression," she said finishing her beer. "That makes you pretty easy to follow, even without the publicity. I'm surprised the police don't have more on you, especially after your big escape."
"Yeah, that was Dean's idea," Sam mumbled.
"Hey we got it didn't we."
"From the looks of this place, you know how to protect yourself." Sam eyed the salt under the window, the cat's eye shells and numerous Celtic crosses.
She smiled at him. "Just like to be prepared."
"Prepared for what?" Dean asked still not completely trusting her.
"That's what you're here for." Her voice grew hard. "Isn't it?"
Sam eyed Dean who nodded. "Do you know what this symbol means?"
She took the photo from Sam. Her eyes lost focus and for an instant she seemed far away. Shaking her head, her eyes grew hard again. "No, why?"
Dean studied her while Sam talked. She was lying, that was obvious, but why? With all the protection, she was afraid of something, but what? Dean hated not having the answers. He cleared his throat stopping Sam mid-sentence.
"We should go."
"We should?" Sam asked confusion written on his face.
"We'll be back." He pushed Sam toward the door.
"What's the matter with you?" Sam whispered.
"Just go," Dean growled. They stopped at the safe, which was open again and took their weapons. Taylor stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her eyes veiled. Dean stepped over the salt line and closed the door.
"Dude, what's your problem?" Sam asked. Dean walked past him to the car. "Dean."
"Get in the car, Sam." Dean didn't wait for the argument he knew was coming. He turned the radio on before Sam could speak.
"Dean," Sam said when they reached the hotel.
"Inside, Sam," Dean said quickly exiting the car.
Sam slammed the motel room door. "Ok, Dean, explain."
"Sam…" Dean ran his hands over his face.
"Dean." Sam glared at his brother.
"I don't know, ok." He sat in the one chair in the dirty room. "I can't explain it."
"Try." Sam was angry, but he was also worried. Dean was acting strange. He didn't run away from a fight.
"It felt wrong," he said not looking at Sam.
"What do you mean?" Sam asked sitting on the edge of one of the twin beds.
"I don't know. The symbol. The way she looked at it." Dean shook his head.
"Dean, we have to help her."
"I don't trust her."
"I don't expect you to, but something is after her, and we need to stop it."
Dean rubbed his chin and shook his head. "We don't know what we're up against, Sam. For all we know, she could be the threat."
"The thought occurred to me too. But either way, we have to go back," Sam said standing.
"Fine," Dean sighed. "We'll go back after lunch."
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"I'm not giving up my weapons," Dean said checking the clip in his gun.
"I figured," Sam said.
The door opened for them again, but the house was well lit. Taylor was seated on the couch surrounded by books. Her 9mm was barely visible under the mess.
Sam picked up the closest book. "Demons."
"I've been trying to find that symbol, but I haven't had any luck." She looked at Dean who stood in the doorway. "I don't bite."
"You know something you aren't telling us," Dean said.
"No," she said shaking her head.
"I'm out of here." Dean turned back to the door.
"Dean," Sam protested.
Dean stood in the open doorway. "I'm sorry Sam, but she obviously doesn't want our help."
"We can't just leave," Sam whispered looking back toward Taylor. "What if something happens to her?"
"Sammy, I…" The noise started small, a rumble that seemed to come from nowhere.
Taylor's eyes grew big, and she raced for the door. "Close the…"
The rumble grew to a defining roar, and strong wind blew through the door spraying the room with salt. Taylor screamed as an unseen force picked her up and carried her backwards. The door behind her opened, and she continued backwards until she hit the wall.
"Taylor," Sam yelled, the door closing before he could reach it.
Taylor screamed and sounds of furniture moving and glass breaking echoed through the house. Sam yanked at the door, but it didn't budge.
Suddenly it was quiet. The door opened revealing the disaster the room had become. Papers and books littered the floor. The mattress was upturned leaning haphazardly from the bed. Dean stepped over a broken picture frame, and found Taylor huddled in the corner her arms over her head.
"Taylor." She jumped striking out at the hand that touched her knocking Dean over. "Son of a bitch."
She looked up, her eyes glassy. "Dean."
Her eyes rolled up, and Dean barely caught her before she fell.
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"Is it done?" Dean asked, pushing Taylor's hair away from her forehead. She lay unconscious on the couch, blood oozing from a cut at her hairline.
"Yeah. I checked the salt lines in the rest of the house too. We're covered." Sam set the first aid kit on the coffee table next to a bowl of warm water and a pile of towels. He pointed to the pocket doors next to the stairs. "Those won't open, and I can't find a lock to pick. Also there is no door to the basement."
"More questions," Dean said wiping the blood from the cut on Taylor's forehead. He disinfected the wound and applied three butterfly bandages. She moaned and turned her head as he was finishing. "Taylor."
She pushed him away and tried to sit up.
"Hold up," Dean said grabbing her shoulders. She gasped and pulled away. "Let me see."
"Get off." Taylor slapped him away. Dean held his hands up, his left covered in blood. He exchanged a look with Sam.
"You're bleeding Taylor. Just let me look." With her remaining strength, Taylor pushed Dean back against the coffee table, spilling the water and throwing the contents of the first aid kit onto the floor. Dean stood, water dripping from his hands and soaking the backside of his pants. "Now you're pissing me off girl."
"Dean." Sam pushed him out of the way. Taylor swayed as she tried to stand. "Sit down, Taylor."
She glared at him, but the room started to spin. "Fine."
"Lay down on your stomach." Still glaring, she did as she was told. Sam ripped the t-shirt up the back causing her to flinch. "Sorry."
"That needs stitches," Dean said, putting the last of the bandages back. "I'll get more water."
Sam used the wet washcloth to wipe some of the blood from Taylor's back. He lowered the top of her shorts and stopped. "Dean."
"What?" he asked entering the room with another bowl of water.
"Look at this." Sam wiped more blood away revealing a black tattoo situated in the small of her back. "Taylor?"
"It's a birthmark," she whispered not looking at them.
"Yeah, right," Dean growled. "It's the same symbol."
Taylor sighed. "My mother said it was a birthmark. I never had a reason to question her until…"
"We showed you the symbol," Dean finished. "Is this what you weren't telling us?"
"I was afraid you wouldn't help me," she whispered still not looking at them.
Sam ran a bandage soaked in disinfectant over the wound making Taylor cringe.
"We don't have any anesthesia. Maybe we should go…" Dean said handing Sam the stitching supplies.
"Just do it," Taylor said looking away. Her body tensed as the needle went through her skin. "Oh, God."
Sam motioned for Dean to help. Dean sat on the arm of the couch, and gently touched Taylor's head. When she didn't pull away, he moved closer. She grabbed his hand and with each stitch, her hand gripped his painfully.
"You almost done, Sammy?" Dean asked his other hand still on Taylor's head.
"Just let me get the bandage on," Sam said looking at his brother.
"What?" Dean asked.
"Nothing." He finished bandaging the wound, and took the dirty towels and water back into the kitchen.
Taylor quickly pulled her hand away and tried to sit up. She flinched when Dean tried to help her.
"Sorry," Dean said quickly standing and moving away.
Taylor kept her eyes averted. "I'm ok."
Sam wondered back into the room drying his hands on his pants.
"I guess I owe you some answers now," Taylor said poking at the cut on her head.
"The symbol?" Dean asked.
"I don't know. I swear. Until you showed me that picture I thought it was a birthmark."
"When did it appear?" Sam asked.
"I'm not sure. Wait," she said moving to the bookshelf.
She took three photo albums from the shelf and sat back down. Dean sat and looked over her shoulder. The first album was full of baby pictures.
"Cute," Dean said, his breath brushing her neck. She suppressed the shiver that threatened to run through her, and tried to focus on the task at hand.
Finding no symbol, she closed the album and moved to the next, the toddler years, but still no symbol.
"There," Dean said pointing at a picture of Taylor and Kristin. The symbol was clearly visible above the bottoms of her two-piece bathing suit. She took the picture out and flipped it over.
"Kristin age 11, Taylor age 9," Dean read. "Do you remember…"
"Nine," Taylor mumbled.
"What? What is it?" Dean asked taking the picture.
"That was after I was sick," Taylor said standing.
"Sick?" Sam asked from his perch on the back of the couch.
"Yeah, I was in the hospital for a month when I was eight. They couldn't figure out what was wrong. Then it just disappeared."
"What were the symptoms?" Sam asked.
"Fever, muscle aches, I couldn't keep anything down. That's why I was in the hospital, dehydration. Why?"
"I don't know. Maybe a curse," Sam said shrugging.
"A curse? But something threw Tom out that window."
"You seem to be taking this rather well," Dean said.
She smiled at him. "I know what you do, so why are you surprised."
"How do you know about us and all this?" Dean asked gesturing at the charms around the room.
She laughed bitterly. "After Tom, I was a little freaked. I'd been working from home as a researcher for years. I took that knowledge and figured a few things out. Didn't make me any less freaked though."
"I bet," Sam said.
"Let me show you something." Taylor moved to the pocket doors. She pushed a picture aside revealing a keypad. She punched in the code and the doors slid open with a click.
"Holy crap," Sam said walking into the room.
It was bigger then their hotel room. A large table sat against one wall, covered in computer equipment. Three of the four walls were covered in printouts. From skinwalkers to banshees the room was wallpapered in supernatural information. The floor was a mess of boxes overflowing with more papers and books.
"Research?" Sam said leafing through a pile of papers on the floor.
"It didn't take long before it got around what I was doing. Hunters pay good money for my research," she said proudly.
"You get paid for this?" Dean asked.
"I have to do something to pay the bills," she said smirking at Dean. "We can't all support ourselves with credit card scams and hustling."
"What's this?" Sam asked running his hand over the plexi-glass covering the far wall.
"Watch yourself," she warned before pushing a button by the door. The glass moved revealing a vast array of guns.
"Damn girl. Prepared my ass," Dean said. "You're ready for war."
Moving around the piles of papers and boxes, Dean stepped closer. Dean pressed the small red button in the case, making it revolve, displaying more weapons, semi-automatics, revolvers, shotguns, rifles, and numerous knives in different lengths.
"May I?" Sam asked motioning toward a wicked Kukri Dagger. The 12-inch stainless steel curved blade ended in a uniquely carved wooden handle.
"Sure," Taylor said.
The corner of Sam's mouth twitched into a half smile as he raised the dagger.
"Easy there cowboy," Dean said smirking at his brother.
Sam turned abruptly, his knee grazing one of the many overflowing boxes in the room, but the papers didn't fall. They stopped halfway to the floor and righted themselves. Dean stared at Sam.
"Don't look at me like that. I didn't do it," Sam said pointing at Taylor, and her outstretched hand.
Dean instinctively went for his gun. With a flick of her wrist the gun was across the room.
"I guess I should have mentioned this," Taylor said not looking at them.
"This being?" Dean asked defensively.
"I'm not like him, if that's what you mean," Taylor said pointing at Sam who stood dumbstruck, the dagger still in his hand. "I've always been able to do this."
"Always?" Dean asked.
"My mother used to say…" she sighed. "I was a precocious child."
"So, let me get this straight. You were born with telekinesis," Sam said putting the dagger down.
Taylor nodded. "As I've gotten older it's gotten stronger, but it has its limits."
"Limits?" Sam asked.
"The more I use it, the more it hurts," she said rubbing her forehead. "I tried to use it once to move the furniture. Very bad idea."
Dean threw his hand in the air. "Great. I'm going now."
"Dean," Sam said following him out of the room.
"This is some messed up crap," Dean said stopping at the front door.
"I agree, but it doesn't change the fact that she needs our help," Sam argued.
"For all we know, she caused these accidents," Dean said.
"We don't know that," Sam said annoyed with Dean's stubbornness.
"Don't we? She wouldn't have any problem throwing Tom out the window," Dean said.
"And what, Dean? She threw herself across the room."
"What better way to convince us something is after her? Sammy…"
"Dean, man, come on. Look around. If she was responsible, why would she lock herself behind a bunch of protective charms?"
Dean sighed. His head hurt. "Fine, but I want my gun back."
The gun clattered at his feet. To Sam's chagrin, Dean clicked the safety off and held the gun at his side.
"Now, I want some answers," Dean said strutting into the sitting room.
Taylor sat on the couch her feet curled underneath her. She eyed the gun. "If I wanted to kill you, do you really think you could stop me?"
Dean glared at her. "And I felt sorry for you."
"I didn't ask for your help." Rising angrily, she stopped as Dean pointed the gun at her.
"Sit down," Dean growled.
"Dean…"
"Don't start with me Sammy." Dean gestured for her to sit with the gun.
Taylor stood her ground, glaring at him. "This is why I didn't tell you. I'm automatically the bad guy now."
"You should have said something," Dean said.
"Yeah, and how would that conversation have gone? Thanks so much for helping me, oh by the way I can throw you across the room when ever I feel like it," she said her voice raising. "God, Dean, from the moment you mentioned that damn symbol you didn't trust me."
"And I had a reason not to," Dean said. "You've been keeping things from us since we got here."
"I was protecting myself. Besides, I was afraid you wouldn't help me." The fight seemed to leave her. She sighed and sat back down. "I didn't want you to leave."
"A little late for that," Dean said.
"Dean," Sam said.
"You saw for yourself what this thing is capable of."
"Did we?" Dean asked sarcastically.
"So I did this to myself." Her anger was replaced with sadness. "I am so tired of this."
"What?" Sam asked, looking uncomfortable. His gaze shifted from Taylor to Dean and back to Taylor.
"You think you're the first to accuse me of this? What? The only reason I locked myself away was to protect myself from this thing? I was with Tom…" Her eyes grew cold and distant. "I watched this thing throw him out the window."
She lowered her head into her hands and started to rock. Suddenly the room started to shake.
"Stop it." Dean said stepping closer to her. The shaking grew worse and large pieces of plaster fell from the ceiling.
Sam fell sideways, landing next to the couch. "Dean, do something."
"Damn." Dean slipped the gun into his pants. He grabbed Taylor's shoulders and shook her. Her body tensed under his touch, but the shaking continued. Grumbling inwardly, he slapped her cheek. As quickly as it started the shaking stopped. Taylor blinked several times. Her brow furrowed.
"Owe." She held her hand to her face. "You hit me."
"Yeah, well you disappeared in there somewhere," Dean said moving away from her.
She covered her face with her hands. "Sorry," she mumbled.
Dean eyed her suspiciously, but the gun remained in his pants. "That happen a lot?"
She laughed nervously. "Something I thought I had control of. Only happens when my emotions…" She stopped and ran her hands through her hair.
"Just don't do it again," Dean said moving to the other side of the room.
"So you saw what killed Tom?" Sam asked on his feet again.
"No, I didn't see anything. That's the problem."
Sam and Dean exchanged a look.
"It was invisible?" Sam asked.
"You're the first person to ask me that who will believe me when I say yes," Taylor said.
"You told the police the attacker was invisible?" Sam asked a little surprised.
"At the time…" She shook her head. "Yeah that was pretty stupid. Fortunately, the police assumed I was suffering from shock or something. When they questioned me later I told them I didn't see anything. Besides, by that point I'm not sure how much of what I said they believed anyway."
"You were a suspect?" Dean asked knowing the answer.
"Still am, at least for Tom's death. There were too many questions they didn't have answers for. Had a cop babysitting me for awhile."
"Cops," Sam said nervously.
"Don't worry. Once a month someone shows up and asks me the same damn questions, and then they leave." She snuck a glance at Dean who leaned against the wall. "What happens now? You staying or leaving?"
Dean ran a hand over his face. "Staying, on one condition."
"Dean." Dean held his hand up stopping his brother.
"No more lying, or keeping things from use. If we are going to help you then we need to know everything."
"Fine, but I have a condition to," she said.
"What?" both boys said.
"I want you to keep in touch, after you leave. That is if we're all still alive."
"We could use the research help," Dean said pushing away from the wall.
"Hey," Sam said punching his brother's arm.
"What?" Dean asked rubbing his arm. "I didn't say…"
"Whatever man," Sam said. "So, do you think we're dealing with a ghost or a demon?"
"I don't think it can be a ghost," Taylor said.
"Why not?" Dean asked.
"I have researched my family history back ten generations. There are no violent deaths. It's all rather boring, really," she sighed.
"What about this house or an object in the house?" Sam asked.
"My great-great-grandfather built this house. The only death I could find taking place here was my grandmother who died in her sleep. There are no antiques in the house." She looked away as she continued. "My father's business had some problems… They were all sold at an auction when I was eight. Believe me, I've looked for ever possibility. I can't find one."
"A demon then," Dean said.
"But why would a demon want to kill my family?" Taylor asked.
"Who says there has to be a reason?" Sam said bitterly.
"So my family is dead because a demon was having a little fun."
"Yes," Dean said.
"Will it come after me if I lower my defenses?" she asked not wanting the answer.
"My guess would be yes. You're the last in your family. It'll want to finish what it started," Dean said eyeing his brother.
Taylor closed her eyes and looked away. "So what do we do?"
She opened her eyes to find Dean sitting next to her. "You've never seen any of the things you've researched, have you?"
Taylor shook her head. "I'm not a hunter, Dean. I don't go looking for trouble."
Dean ran his hands over his face. "Then we need to prepare ourselves."
"How?" she asked.
"We don't know how strong this demon is," Dean said.
"Why does that matter?" Taylor asked.
"Trust me, it matters," Dean said standing.
"Are you thinking manifestation without a body," Sam said.
"It wouldn't be the first time," Dean said, his voice hard.
"So this demon has a form without possessing a body. How is that possible?" Taylor asked.
"There is a hierarchy. The higher up, the stronger the demon," Sam said.
"I don't like the sound of that," Taylor said. "If it's that strong, how do we stop it?"
Sam looked at Dean and nodded. "We send it back to hell."
"Again, how?" Taylor asked.
"First we trap it, then we exorcise it," Sam said taking out their father's journal.
"You mean let it in here. No way," Taylor said standing and angrily started to pace. "I have spent two years making this place safe. You can't ask me…"
Dean stepped in front of her. "Do you want to get rid of it or not?"
Defeated, she wouldn't look him in the eye. "Yes."
"Good. Sam get the Key of Soloman out of the car," Dean said looking around the room.
"No need. I have a copy." Taylor smiled at their shocked expressions. "Like I said boys, you can find just about anything on the Internet."
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"Everything's ready, Dean," Sam said setting the book on the coffee table and collapsing onto the couch.
"It's late, we should wait until tomorrow to tackle this demon," Dean said from the doorway.
"And do what? Sleep?" Taylor asked.
"We should all get some sleep," Dean said looking at his brother.
"Ok, I get the point," Sam said standing and heading for the door. "I'll go back to the hotel and sleep. You stay here and hold down the fort."
"You sure?" Dean asked. "I could go with you."
"I'm fine, Dean," Sam said closing the door behind him.
He turned to find Taylor in the sitting room doorway. "Problems?"
"No," he said shaking his head.
"Whatever," she said. "I guess I'll see you in the morning. There's a blanket on the couch."
"Good night," he said watching her go up the stairs.
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But he couldn't sleep, too many thoughts running through his head. An hour slowly crept by, and he heard her on the stairs.
"Can't sleep?" she asked. She had changed into navy blue pajama shorts and matching navy top. To ward off the cold she also wore a large blue and gray flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
"Something like that," he said. She moved past him into the kitchen.
Wanting to keep busy and knowing he wasn't going to sleep, Dean grabbed the bag of weapons and hesitated in the doorway to the kitchen. Taylor sat at the table sipping a cup of coffee.
"Can I work here?" he asked gesturing at the table.
She nodded, and he proceeded to empty the bag. He placed a towel on the table, followed by his gun cleaning supplies.
"Do you want some coffee?" Taylor asked standing.
"Sure," he said not looking up.
"Cream, sugar?"
"Both."
She turned, two cups in her hands, to find three shotguns and four handguns laid out on the table.
She set the cups on the table and eyed the pearl handled handgun. "May I?"
He shrugged, stripping one of the shotguns and laying the pieces out on the towel.
She slipped the clip out and pulled the slide back. "Nice."
"Thanks," he said not looking up from his cleaning.
"Did you steal it?" she asked setting the gun on the towel and sitting back down.
He laughed but didn't stop his work. "No, I bought it."
"With a stolen credit card," Taylor said eyeing him over the rim of her coffee cup.
"If you want to be technical about it, yeah," he said shrugging his shoulders.
"Have you ever had a job?" she asked.
He set the shotgun down and looked at her. "What is this? Twenty questions?"
"Touchy," she said rolling her eyes. "You sat down next to me remember. I'll leave if it will make you feel better."
"Wait," he said holding his hands up. God what was with him and this woman? She made him crazy. "You don't have to leave."
"Maybe I want to leave."
"Fine," he said picking the shotgun up.
"God, you're annoying," she mumbled into her coffee.
"Thanks," Dean said smirking at her.
"I know more about you then you think. I've been researching you and your brother for over a year," she said.
His brow furrowed. "What?"
"I heard about you guys while I was researching another case. Sam is a little unpredictable, but easily tracked. There was that whole possessed thing, but even then I eventually found the trail again. You on the other hand." She shook her head. "You are an enigma, Dean Winchester. Half the people I talk to want to kill you, and the other half want to marry you."
"Yeah, that sounds about right," he said. "Wait, the possessed thing? How do you know about that?"
"You talk too much, Dean." She shrugged her shoulders. "A girl has her ways."
"You're not making me feel any better," he said. He tried to focus on what he was doing, but he could feel her eyes on him.
She sipped her coffee and watched him expertly clean the shotguns. "I stopped trying to track you after two weeks."
"Two whole weeks?" he asked smirking at her.
"Annoying again," she said rolling her eyes. "You know there were plenty of people who remembered you, sort of."
"How can someone sort of remember me?" Dean asked.
"A lot of them didn't remember your name," she said. "The description however, tall, dark, charming and a bit of a smart ass. At that point I usually made them stop. I don't need those kind of details to track you."
"But you didn't always stop them," he said cheekily.
"Please," she said standing and putting her cup in the sink. She leaned back against the counter and looked at him.
"What?" he asked when he noticed her staring.
"Is this really the person you want people to think you are?"
"And what kind of person is that?" he asked, that cocky grin back on his face.
"I mean, I understand," she said not answering his question. "The whole psychology behind the way that you are."
"What?" he asked. She wasn't making since again.
"Your mother died when you were very young. Your dad did the best that he could, but…"
"You know nothing about my dad," he said angrily. Just when he was letting his guard down she had to say something like that.
"I know the type. Married to their work. Trying everything you can to get their attention. Growing up, I saw my father maybe once a week." She smiled to herself. "I remember when he taught me to shot. I was hoping it was something we could do together. He belonged to a gun club, and at least twice a month he would leave for what my mother called a guys weekend. He took me once, and I embarrassed him by shooting better then him."
"What does this have to do with me?" Dean asked.
"It was always about him and what he wanted. Sound familiar."
"I do what I do because I want to," Dean said standing.
"You do what you do because it's the only thing you know how to do," she said sadly.
He didn't know what to say to that, because it was true.
"I'm sorry. I talk too much. I didn't mean… It's just, I can't imagine coming face to face with any of those things on that wall in there, but you go looking for them. And I know, the world is a better place because you do, but how old were you when you fought your first monster, fifteen, twelve, ten."
"Eleven," Dean said. "And I killed it too."
"Good for you," Taylor said sarcastically. "How very noble of you."
"I'm not following you Taylor. Are we still talking about the reason I'm the way I am or are we talking about you?" Dean asked moving toward her.
"Me," she said snidely. "What could possibly be wrong with me?"
"I don't know, let's start with locking yourself in your house for two years."
"Now that was just mean. You think changing the subject will make me stop talking about you?"
"Maybe," he said moving closer. God he wanted to touch her.
"If your mother hadn't died. If you hadn't been pushed into this life, what would you be doing?"
"What if I kissed you? Would you stop talking?"
"Are you avoiding my question?" she asked, her heart pounding.
"Is that a yes," he said with that charming smile.
"Answer my question and maybe I'll kiss you," she said returning his smile.
"Damn girl, you don't quit do you," he said stopping in front of her.
"Not until I get my answer."
"Honestly, I don't know. You were right, before. I've been around hunting all my life. I don't know how to do anything else. I like fixing cars. My dad own a shop before my mother died. I remember helping him." He shrugged and looked away.
"Do you really want to kiss me or were you just avoiding my question?" she asked.
"What do you think?"
"I think I don't want your pity," she said turning away, and leaning her hands against the counter.
"I'm feeling a lot of things right now. Pity is not one of them." He was close enough she could feel the heat radiating off his body.
"Right," she said offhandedly. "Because I'm such a catch."
"Taylor," he said, his breath so close it moved her hair.
"I…" she stopped, annoyed with the trimmer in her voice. "I locked myself away after Tom because I was afraid of what killed him, but after all the research I've done, I know now that there is so much more to be afraid of."
"Life is not without risk," Dean said, his hands ghosting down her arms.
"How poetic," Taylor said tensing up under his touch.
"Cynical doesn't suit you," he said dropping his arms, but not backing up.
"With everything that has happened, with everything you've seen, don't you just want to give up some times? Tell the world to go to hell," she laughed knowing it really wasn't funny.
"Trust me, I've thought about it." His breath ghosted against her neck. "You giving up, Taylor?"
"I gave up a long time ago, Dean." She inhaled sharply, his hands circling her waist.
"No, I don't think so. You may have locked yourself in, but you also prepared yourself. Tomorrow we're going to kick this demon's ass," Dean whispered, his right hand slipping under the hem of her shirt.
"Then you'll leave," she said.
"But I'm here now," he said pulling her tightly against him and playing with the elastic of her shorts. She didn't stop him as his hand snuck inside to touch her.
She gasped and arched into him, her head falling back against his shoulder. "Please."
"Please what," he said nibbling on her neck.
"More," she growled, grasping his hand so he couldn't leave her.
His finger touched her center, sending shockwaves through her body. Achingly slow his hand moved down and into her.
"Oh, God, yes," she muttered her body on fire. She wanted more, needed more.
Dean rested his head in the crook of her neck enjoying the little noises she made. He touched her in just the right places, making her gasp and beg.
"Dean, please," she said breathlessly, arching into his hand, needing just a little more.
Dean slowed his rhythm, eliciting a growl of protest he cut off with a nip to her neck. She had never been so turned on, and she hadn't even kissed him yet. His hand sped back up, and she could feel herself reaching that peak.
"Yes, yes," she moaned.
He felt her start to quiver and moved his thumb to touch her. She arched back as she came, her mouth open in a silent scream, her body trembling under him. He held himself still, watching her come down. The minute she relaxed he turned her roughly and took her lips with his. She didn't have the strength to fight him for control. It had been so long since her body felt like this. She arched against him, and he moaned into her mouth.
Dean tried to hold back, but his body wanted her so bad. She teased him, arching into him again and again. His pants soon became uncomfortable, and he was quickly loosing control.
He dropped kisses down her neck and let the flannel shirt slip from her shoulders and puddle against the counter. He pulled away long enough to slip her shirt over her head. He marveled at her pale skin and took her into his hand, pinching her nipples and making her gasp.
"Oh God, Dean," she moaned. He ducked his head, nibbling down her neck to her breast. She gasped again when he reached his hands and replaced one with his mouth. She held him there. Her body tingled with every touch of his mouth. Her hands grasped his head, running though his short hair. When she couldn't stand anymore she pulled him up and kissed him hard. Dean gave in and let her control this kiss.
"Off," she said pulling on his shirt. It was her turn to marvel at his toned body. She ran her hands down his sides to his abs and up to his chest, tweaking his nipples.
He groaned and pulled her hands away. "Too close."
She smiled and moved to his pants. She teased him as she slowly lowered the zipper, letting the back of her hand brush against his hard length.
"Commando," she said wrapping her hand around him.
"You're going to kill me," he said pulling her hand away. Her moan of protest, turned into a gasp when in one swift motion he lowered her shorts and underwear and entered her, pushing her up onto the counter.
"Dean," she moaned wrapping her legs around his waist. She grasped his arms as he pounded into her.
"God, Taylor." Pulling her up into his arms he continued his torturous pace, using her weight to slam her down onto him over and over.
Taylor lost all verbal control. A long string of harder, please and faster tumbled from her mouth. Her body shook as her second orgasm crashed into her, taking her breath and making her see stars.
Dean groaned as her body tightened around him. He slammed into her one last time and found his release.
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After the frenzied coupling in the kitchen, Dean moved them into the sitting room, where they had taken their time, over and over again before both had succumbed to exhaustion.
Dean woke on the couch alone. After checking the time on his watch, he tucked the blanket around his waist and went in search of Taylor. He found her in the kitchen making more coffee, dressed in his t-shirt.
"Have you slept at all?" he asked.
"I don't sleep much," she said softly.
"Nightmares," he said, his arms encircling her waist and pulling her close.
"After Tom… they were really bad. But worse then that, I'd loose control while I was sleeping. Wake up with the room a mess. Sometimes I wouldn't even be in the bed anymore." She turned in his arms, a sad smile on her face.
"Sorry," he whispered, kissing her nose.
She leaned against him. "No apologies needed. I got more sleep last night then I have for long time."
"That's not saying much, Taylor. It's three o'clock in the morning."
She smirked at him and pushed at the blanket. "Maybe I'm just not tired."
"You're insatiable," he said returning the smirk.
"Are you tired, Dean? I can…" she said turning away.
"Oh, no," he said grabbing her around the waist and pulling her back against him. "Don't start something you can't finish."
She rubbed up against up making him moan. "I definitely want to finish."
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"Get any sleep, Sammy?" Dean asked as his brother walked into the room.
"Yeah, did you?" Sam asked, eyeing the two sitting on the couch.
Dean smiled to himself but didn't answer. Sighing, he moved to the bag Sam had brought in and removed three bottles of Holy water. He turned back to Taylor. "You ready?"
"Wait, let me get this straight. We let it in and get it under the symbol," Taylor said pointing to the symbol on the ceiling.
"It'll be powerless, and won't be able to hurt us," Dean said handing Sam a bottle of holy water.
"Then we exorcise it."
"Pretty much." Dean said tossing her a bottle of holy water, keeping one for himself, along with his father's journal.
"What happens if we can't get it under the symbol?" Taylor asked.
Sam laid his hands on her shoulders. "Trust us. We've done this before."
She sighed and turned to Dean. "Ready."
Sam nodded at his brother, and he pushed the salt away from the window.
At first, nothing happened. Then the lights began to flicker and a breeze began to blow around the room. One by one the pictures fell of the sideboard and smashed to the floor. The bookcase emptied itself, the books flying back and forth across the room.
"Dean?" Sam yelled over the sound of the wind.
"I know," Dean barely got out before he was flung across the room. Hitting the now empty bookcase. It crumbled under his weight.
Sam quickly moved toward his brother. Taylor ducked as the chandelier shattered spraying the room with glass.
Dean stood, wiping blood from his forehead. He pulled Sam to the side. His head narrowly missed by a vase that smashed against the wall.
"This is bad, Dean," Sam said sidestepping the coffee table as it too hit the wall behind them.
"Ya' think," Dean said trying to get his bearings in the disheveled room.
"What…" he said as Sam pulled him to the floor. An array of knives flew at them, embedding themselves in the wall just above their heads. "Son of a bitch."
"Stop it," Taylor yelled, her face full of rage. "It's me you want, not them."
"Taylor no," Dean said trying to stand.
"Dean!" Taylor saw the knife before he did. It stopped just in front of his forehead.
Dean backpedaled until he hit the wall, the knife following him, but stopped, the tip almost touching his forehead. Taylor swayed, using all of her energy to hold the knife. Blood dripped from her nose. Sam grabbed for the knife, but was thrown back.
"I can't hold it for long," Taylor said. She swayed, but didn't take her eyes off the knife. Blood seeped from her ears, and the flow from his nose grew steadily.
"Stop it, Taylor. You're going to kill yourself," Dean said trying to move.
"Leave them alone," she yelled her hands coming up in a swiping motion. The knife, Dean and the remaining contents of the wall flew sideways. Dean landed hard against the far wall and the knife embedded itself a foot above him. Taylor sighed and slumped to the floor.
Suddenly everything stopped. Dean pulled himself up, pushing the remains of the sitting room furniture off of him. "Sammy?"
"Here," Sam said from behind the couch, the only piece of furniture remaining in the room. The dark figure materialized in front of Taylor. Sam rushed towards her only to be thrown back again.
"Sammy!" Dean crouched next to his brother.
"I'm fine. Help Taylor," Sam said cringing as he rolled himself to his back.
Taylor sat staring at the figure before her.
"Move Taylor," Dean said grabbing his fathers journal.
"Wait," she said holding her hand up. With a flick of her wrist the journal flew through the air and landed at her feet.
"What the hell are you doing?" Dean asked his body freezing before he could move. "Son of a…"
"Dad," Taylor whispered. Sam's eyes widened in surprise.
"You've got to be kidding me," Dean said giving his brother a look.
"Taylor, you've done the research. You know that demons lie. It's just the form it's taken," Sam said edging closer.
"Careful Sammy," Dean mumbled.
Taylor lowered her hand, and Dean barely had enough time to catch himself before she flung the journal back toward them.
"Start the exorcism," Dean said moving toward Taylor. Sam crawled from his spot on the floor the few feet to the journal and started the exorcism. The demon howled and turned to face him.
"No," Taylor angrily said grabbing the holy water from the floor, and swiped at the demon with the open bottle.
It howled again and turned toward her.
"You're not my father," she said backing away. Dean edged closer, aware of the subtle shake off her head.
"Maybe not." The deep voice echoed through the room. "But he's the reason I'm here."
Taylor hit him with another splash of holy water. "Liar."
"He didn't know what he was doing of course. His business was failing." He leered at her. "Daddy sold your soul for fortune and glory."
The demon moved with her until she was backed against the wall.
"He wouldn't." She angrily wiped the tears from her face.
"Wouldn't he." Without warning the demon grabbed her shoulders.
"Dean, no," Sam said grabbing his brother before he could touch Taylor.
"It's going to kill her," Dean said fighting to get free from Sam's hold.
"I'm almost finished," Sam said and continued the exorcism.
Dean could do nothing but stare as Taylor's eyes rolled up in her head, and her body convulsed under the demons hands.
"Sam," Dean whispered. Taylor's body began to crumble under the demon's onslaught. A moan slipped from her lips and the demon smiled. Dean took another step forward.
"Ah, ah, ah…" the demon said disappearing in a puff of black smoke. Dean raced forward, catching Taylor before she hit the floor. He cradled her against his chest searching the room for the demon.
"Dean, how did it do that?" Sam asked kneeling next to him, putting two fingers to Taylor's neck. Her heartbeat was slow but steady. She moaned, and her eyes slowly opened.
"Easy," Dean said holding her still.
"The demon," Taylor said. "It's too strong."
The room started to shake.
"Taylor?" Dean asked alarmed.
"I'm not doing it," she said weakly.
"We have to get out of here," Dean said standing with Taylor and stumbling toward the door. The door swung open and closed wildly.
"Now what?" Sam asked.
Taylor pulled away from Dean's hold and pushed Sam out the door holding it open just long enough for him to stumble through. She wiped at the blood dripping from her nose, and held onto the wall closing her eyes, hoping the room would stop spinning. "I don't think I can do that again."
"I got you," Dean said wrapping his arm around her waist as her legs buckled. He lifted her easily, cradling her against him and looked around the disintegrating room for an exit.
"The basement," Taylor whispered pointing toward the pocket doors.
"What? Where's the door?" Dean asked hurrying into the room. The room was more disheveled then usual. The computer equipment lay smashed next to the overturned table. Books and papers littered the floor.
"In the corner," Taylor said.
Dean placed her back on her feet keeping his arm around her waist. She pushed a button by the gun case. A door hidden in the wall popped open. They stumbled down the stairs, Dean's eyes widened in surprise. The large room was covered in soundproofing and the floor was padded for workouts. Targets lined the right wall and five life-like dummies in different stages of disrepair were scattered around the room.
"What?
You think I don't know how to use the weapons I own," Taylor
said ducking as a piece of soundproofing fell from the ceiling.
"The
way out?" Dean asked.
"Over there." She pointed to the wall.
"Taylor."
"Trust me," she said letting him half carry her to the spot. Lights flashed as she touched four spots on the wall. The wall slid open revealing a staircase and door.
"The way out," Taylor said sagging against him.
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Dean sat at the dingy table leafing through the journal. He didn't look up as Sam entered the room carrying two large take out bags.
"Chinese," he said setting the bags in front of Dean. "She still asleep?"
"Yeah," Dean said. Taylor lay sprawled on Dean's bed, half covered in blankets. She had literally collapsed the minute they walked through the door.
"Find anything?" Sam asked pulling the containers of food from the bag.
"No," Dean said tossing the journal onto the floor in frustration.
"I was thinking," Sam said around a mouthful of food.
"Really," Dean said sarcastically, and dug into his own food.
"Shut up," Sam said. Dean smirked at his brother, glad for the comfortable banter between them returning. "The symbol on Taylor's back."
"What about it?"
"Maybe it's like the symbol Meg used to bind her to me."
"But the demon isn't in her," Dean said.
"No, but maybe its bond to her in some way. I don't know," Sam said shaking his head and pushing his food away.
"It's an idea," Dean said eyeing his brother. "Not hungry?"
"Dean," Sam said. "Don't start."
Before Dean could comment, Taylor stirred, rolling over and groaning. Her brow furrowed. "No."
"Taylor," Dean said moving toward the bed.
"Dean, wait," Sam warned.
Taylor's eyes shot opened, and Dean flew across the room crashing hard against the wall.
"Owe," he growled rubbing the back of his head.
Taylor backpedaled, her legs tangling in the sheets. With a panicked cry she fell out of the bed.
Dean quickly regained his feet, but kept his distance. "Taylor."
"Dean," she said meekly, rolling onto her back.
"You with us?" Sam asked edging slowly toward her.
Frightened eyes scanned the room. "Yeah."
"Hungry?" Dean asked, helping her to her feet.
"Starving," she answered not looking at him. "Sorry."
He shrugged. "I'll live."
Sam handed her a container of food. "Thanks."
"Bad dream," Dean said sitting back at the table. Taylor leaned against the headboard and opened the container.
"You could say that," she said. "So, your plan didn't work."
"I guess not," Dean said eyeing Sam. She was changing the subject.
"Any ideas?" she asked.
Sam sighed. "Yeah, one."
"I assume it has something to do with me," she said around a mouthful of food.
Sam and Dean looked at each other.
"Quit doing that," Taylor said.
"What?" Dean asked.
"That whole talk to each other without speaking. It's creeping me out," she said setting her food on the nightstand. "Just tell me."
Sam rolled his eyes. "We think it might have something to do with the symbol on your back."
"The symbol was at each of the accidents," Dean said.
"So the symbol has something to do with the demon. I looked in every place I could think of. I couldn't find it," Taylor said standing and pacing.
Sam rubbed his arm unconsciously. "Well, if it's like…"
"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," Dean said.
"Clue me in guys," Taylor said annoyed.
"Destroying the symbol," Sam said.
"That sounds painful." Taylor eyed them.
"Yeah," Sam mumbled still rubbing his arm.
"How?" Taylor asked.
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Taylor sat on the bed staring at the container. "Can't I just get it lasered."
"That would take too long," Dean said.
"This sucks," Taylor whined. She stood and stripped off her shirt leaving her dressed in low cut gray shorts and a black sports bra.
"Sit," Dean said moving the chair away from the table.
She sat backwards, her legs straddling the back of the chair. Sam tucked a towel around her waist just below the tattoo.
"Ready?" Sam asked picking up the container.
"No, but do it anyway," she said gripping the back of the chair. The solvent bubbled the instant it touched her skin. She screamed and Dean caught her as she tipped sideways out of the chair. He pulled her to him, her head against his chest, and settled them on the floor.
"Almost done," Dean soothed, holding her still as Sam wiped the solvent from her back.
"Damn," Sam muttered.
"What?" Dean asked flinching under Taylor's grip.
"Look," Sam, said moving the washcloth. The skin around the symbol was red and blistered, but the symbol remained untouched.
Taylor's back arched, and she started to convulse.
"What the hell." Dean lowered her to the floor. She continued to convulse, her head smacking against the floor. Dean grabbed a pillow from the bed and placed it under her head.
"What do we do?" Sam asked.
"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Dean said aggravated. Slowly the convulsions subsided and Taylor's eyes opened.
"Dean," she whispered.
"Yeah," Dean said leaning closer.
"It showed me," she whispered before darkness claimed her.
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The room was too quiet. Dean stood up, not able to sit still any longer.
"Dean, relax," Sam said from behind his computer.
"Right, because there is no reason for me to be upset. Just a demon we have no idea how to get rid of," Dean said annoyed.
"We'll figure it out," Sam said.
"Really?" Dean said nearly closing the computer on his brother's fingers.
"Dean, man, stop," Sam said standing and moving away.
They both turned as Taylor sat up in the bed. "What the hell happened?"
The boys looked at each other. "Um…"
"It didn't work, did it?" she asked leaning back against the headboard.
"No, the symbol is still there," Sam said softly.
"I figured. The demon is too strong," she sighed.
"You said that before," Dean said.
"I did?"
"After the demon touched you," Sam said standing next to the bed. "And just now, you said it showed you."
She looked away.
"It was telling the truth, about your father," Dean said sitting on the bed.
"Yeah." Her eyes were full of tears when they found Dean's. "You were right, but…"
"What?" Dean asked when she didn't continue.
"The demon is bond to me," she looked away again and whispered. "Until I die."
"What? No," Sam said, visions of Madison flashing through his mind.
"Explain," Dean said unconsciously putting a hand on his brother's arm, comforting him briefly before removing it.
"My dad didn't just summon the demon. He made a deal with it." She still wouldn't look at them.
"A deal?" Dean ignored the look Sam gave him.
"He was desperate." Sam rolled his eyes. He was sick of that argument. Her head came up and the tears were gone replaced with anger. "I didn't just see what happened. I felt it. I felt his struggle with what he was dong. He really didn't understand how strong this demon was."
"What was the deal?" Dean asked angrily. "Your life for his successful business."
"Stop it, please. My father got mixed up in something he didn't understand. He didn't set out to sacrifice me to this demon." She pushed angrily at Dean and climbed out of the bed.
"But he did?" Dean said following her.
She couldn't look at him. "The demon was going to kill him, but the businessman in him wouldn't go down without a fight. He tried to give himself more time."
"Time for what?" Dean asked, standing in front of her, but not touching her.
"To get rid of the demon."
"So what, he promised the whole family?" Sam asked still sitting on the bed.
"No. Just me," she said quietly. "Somehow it knew about… my gift."
"I don't understand," Sam said. "Why kill the rest of the family?"
"It's playing with her. It didn't expect her to fight back," Dean said, his hand coming up to touch her arms.
She drew back and turned away from him. "So I was right. My family is dead because the demon was having fun."
"Taylor…" Dean started.
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters," Dean said angrily. He spun her around to face him, grabbing her arms.
"Dean…" she said trying to pull away.
"It matters, Taylor. We aren't going to let you die," Dean said.
"I don't think there's a way to stop it. Eventually the demon will get me," she said still trying to pull away.
Dean pulled her to him, resting her head against his chest. "Not if I have anything to say about it."
"Dean," Sam said. "I have an idea."
"I don't like this," Dean said from his seat at the table.
"I'll be fine," Taylor said.
"Fine? You're letting my brother poison you." He stood angrily knocking his chair over.
Taylor stood and made her way to his side.
"The demon is bond to me. If I were a painting or a pile of bones you would salt and burn me. I wouldn't care for that," she said smiling.
"This isn't funny," Dean said softly.
"I know," she said gently touching his cheek. Tears blurred her vision, ad she tried desperately to suppress the sobs that threatened to undo her. "But this is the only way to stop it."
"We haven't looked…" she put a finger to his lips silencing him.
"It would take too long. It's only a matter of time before it finds us." She took the cup of poison from Sam and downed it in one gulp.
Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. His eyes snapped open when she groaned, and he caught her as she doubled over. He gently picked her up and carried her back to the bed. Frightened eyes met his. "I'm scared."
"That makes two of us," he said fighting the tears that burned his eyes.
A small sob escaped her. "I don't want to die."
The tears won, and Dean ignored them as they made tracks down his cheeks. "You won't. I'll bring you back."
"Promise?" she whispered.
He brought his forehead to hers, scared of the emotions he saw in her eyes. "Yeah, I promise."
Her body shook with uncontrolled sadness. He caressed her cheeks, wiping the tears away only to have them replaced. She tensed and her eyes closed.
Dean reined back his emotions, using all his strength to not start CPR the minute she stopped breathing. He laid he back down on the bed, her head lulling to the side, and watched as the color drained from her face and her lips turned blue.
"Dean," Sam said, his hand on Dean's shoulder.
"I know," Dean said his face growing hard. He let her go and took a step back. Sam didn't move his hand as they made their way across the room and waited for the demon.
Sam squeezed his shoulder trying to ease the tension slowly seeping into Dean as the seconds ticked by.
"Where is it?" Dean pushed his hand away. "This is taking too long."
A gust of wind made both boys stagger back. The demon appeared before Taylor with a howl. It stood before her flickering in and out, it's hands not touching, but scanning over her body.
"What did you do?" the demon howled turning to the boys.
"You have no hold on this world anymore. Go back to hell where you belong, you son of a bitch," Dean yelled.
They covered their ears as the demon howled load enough to rattle the windows. It turned back to Taylor and touched her forehead.
"No." Sam grabbed Dean, holding him back.
Taylor's body twitched under its hand, but it didn't find what it was looking for. It stepped back, flickering again.
Both boys groaned and grabbed their ears, the final howl of the demon breaking the windows and, Dean thought, their eardrums. The demon flickered one last time and vanished.
"Is it gone?" Sam whispered.
"I don't care," Dean said rushing to Taylor's side. He quickly moved her to the floor and started CPR. Her skin was cold. Sam joined him, taking over the chest compressions.
"Dean," Sam said checking for a heartbeat after five minutes.
"Keep trying," Dean said not taking his eyes off Taylor. "Breath damn-it."
Five more minutes passed with no response. "Dean."
"No, keep trying," Dean said angrily.
Sam grabbed his brother's arm. "Stop."
"Get off." Dean shook him off and checked for a heartbeat. "Yes, it's faint, but it's there."
"Dean…" Sam began but was silenced by Taylor's sudden intake of breath.
"Dean," she whispered.
"I got you," Dean said tucking a stray hair behind her ear.
"Never had a doubt," she said smiling at him. "Did it work?"
"Yeah," Sam said, both boys grinning stupidly.
Taylor sat up slowly, holding on to Dean's outstretched arm.
"Slow down," Dean said as she tried to stand.
"I'm fine." She pushed his hands away swaying slightly as she stood. The color drained from her face, and she stumbled past them to the bathroom. Retching could be heard through the closed door. The toilet flushed, but the door remained closed. Cautiously, Dean entered the room. Pale and shaky, Taylor sat on the floor, her back against the bathtub.
"You ok?" Dean asked.
Not trusting her stomach, she nodded causing blinding pain to shot through her head. She closed her eyes and put her head in her hands.
Dean sighed and joined her on the floor. She leaned against him, and he slipped his arm around her shoulders.
"No barfing on me," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.
"Try not to," she sighed. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For bringing me back."
"That was the plan, right?"
She carefully raised her head and smiled at him. "Right."
"Let's relocate, this room stinks."
She laughed and cringed. "Stop, don't make me laugh."
"Need some help?" he asked after standing.
She held her hands out, and he pulled her up. "The room is spinning."
He slipped his hand around her waist, picked her up and carried her out of the room.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"We could stay. At least until we find another job," Sam said looking at his brother. They sat in the impala. Dean started out the window at Taylor's house.
"I'm fine, Sammy. I'll be right back."
"I guess I'll stay here," Sam mumbled at the already closed door.
Dean hurried to the front porch through the rain. He lightly knocked on the door. His brow furrowed, when he tried the door, and it opened.
"Taylor," he called, closing the door behind him.
The house looked different. The windows were all uncovered and open. Light spilled into the rooms as Dean walked through looking for Taylor. She was in the backyard sitting at the patio table. She held her face up to the rain and water dripped fro her nose.
"You know it's raining," Dean said smirking at her.
"You don't say," she said not looking at him. "You're leaving."
He sighed and nervously looked around. "Taylor…"
She stood and put her hands on his arms. "It's ok. I understand."
He took her hands when she tried to leave. "Wait."
"Dean you don't have to…"
He silenced her with a kiss.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Two days later, Taylor was still savoring that kiss when the phone rang.
"Taylor, it's Sam."
"Sam, what's wrong? Did something…"
"No, Taylor, nothings happened. Nothing that hadn't already happened."
"Ok, you've lost me."
"I need your help," Sam said.
"Why are you whispering? Does Dean know you've called me?" Taylor asked.
"No, that's why I'm hiding in the bathroom," Sam said sitting down on the closed toilet.
"I'm listening."
"I need you to research a demon for me."
"Ok, I need a little more info then that."
"I'm getting to it. God, your worse then Dean," he mumbled. "This would be the deal making type demon."
"Oh, that kind of demon."
"Yes, I need to know how to break the deal."
"Sam, that's not possible. Once you make a deal, your bond until the deal is made. What is this about?"
"Taylor…"
"If this is about Dean, I want to know," she said.
"He's going to kill me," Sam said running his hands over his face.
"Sam."
"You know about what happened with the yellow eyed demon, right?"
"I'm sure I'm missing pieces, but yeah."
"One of those missing pieces is that… I died."
"What?" Taylor said almost dropping the phone.
"I was stabbed. Long story short, Dean made a deal."
"How long?" she whispered.
"A year."
"A year. That stupid, idiotic…"
"Taylor."
"Sorry. I don't believe this."
"So you'll help me."
"Of course. But Sam, I have never come across this. Unless the demon…"
"That won't happen. This demon has it bad for Dean. She won't let him go."
"Then I guess I have my work cut out for me."
"Thanks, Taylor."
"Take care of each other, Sam."
MORE NOTES:
Ok, my only excuse for the sex, is that Dean was so unhappy during most of the second season that I felt I needed to give him a happy. Enough said.
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