Lex Talionis
AU. Sequel to Ter Abnegare. It would be a good idea to read that first.
I had this story in mind since I wrote the previous one, but it took a while before I had time to write it down. This chapter is mostly set up for the following chapters and to introduce the other characters that have a part in the finale. The story features Sam, Dean, and a host of supernatural entities. See if you can figure out who they are ;)
Rated T for language.
Part 1- Jus ad Bellum
Dean guided the Impala into one of the parking spaces outside the motel and gave a sigh of relief. He had been driving for what seemed like days and the flickering VACANCY sign of the Summerland Motel had truly been a welcome sight. He turned to Sam and saw that his brother was curled up against the passenger side door with his knees turned to the side and his head leaning on the window, his face completely lax in sleep.
At least one of us is getting some shuteye.
He carefully opened his door and climbed out, wincing slightly as his stiff muscles groaned in protest. After closing the door as gently as possible, he made his way to the motel's front office, stepped inside and glanced around in surprise. It was a few days before Christmas and he had expected the lobby to be adorned with the tacky décor he had seen in so many other places over the years, but the room bore no signs of the impending holiday. The lobby looked more like someone's living room, complete with a roaring fire in the fireplace and worn but comfortable-looking overstuffed chairs. Instead of the usual reception counter there was a large oak desk, and behind the desk in the corner sat a middle aged woman in a plain shapeless dress, her hair covered by a kerchief. She gave him a smile entirely too bright for 3 AM and greeted him warmly.
"Welcome! How may I help you?"
"One room for the night…well, the rest of it at least. Two beds, please."
"Of course. Cash or credit?" She reached for some forms and placed them on the desktop with a pen.
"Uh…cash." They were running a little low, since he hadn't had much time for hustling, but something about this woman made him decide to skip on using the fake cards and leaving her with a fraudulent charge to sort out.
"I can let you have the rest of the night and another for $40. Sound fair?"
"Sounds great, but I'm not sure we'll be needing another night. Places to be, things to do..." Monsters to hunt.
"Well, check out is at 10 AM. You look like you need a bit more sleep than that, if you don't mind me saying so." She smiled as Dean stifled a yawn. He gave her a weak grin.
"OK, you twisted my arm." He glanced around the room again before leaning on the counter and starting to fill out the forms. "Nice little place you have here. Family business?"
"I take care of most of it, but I have plenty of family willing to chip in. My sister helps out during this time of year since her daughter is down south for the winter and she needs something to keep her occupied." She collected the forms as he filled them out and handed him a key. "Room 12, left side of the building, all the way at the end. There are extra linens in the closet, and if you need anything else, just call."
"Will do. Thanks."
"You're quite welcome. Enjoy your stay."
He nodded gave and her a little wave before heading back out to the Impala. Sam was still asleep but he woke with a jerk and groggily peered over at Dean when he opened the door.
"Morning, princess."
Sam muttered "jerk" and rubbed his eyes.
"Where are we?"
"East Bumblefuck, near as I can tell. First hotel I saw, so I got us a room." Dean drove down to the end of the building and parked in front of number 12 before handing the room key to Sam.
"I'll grab our stuff. Your turn for first shower."
Sam unfolded himself from the car and stumbled to the door. By the time Dean had retrieved their gear, Sam had managed to get the door open and staggered into the room, finding the far bed and collapsing on it. Dean tossed Sam his duffle and he rose from the bed, sleepily making his way to the bathroom. Dean opened the spare duffle and started warding the room. It was a routine that was so familiar now he didn't even need to think about it. They had made some adjustments to make the job easier. He placed plastic tubes that they kept filled with salt across the door and windows and unrolled a small piece of canvas to reveal a painted Key of Solomon which he laid in front of the door. Several more charms hung in each window, over the door and over each bed completed the job. By the time he finished, Sam emerged from the bathroom.
"All yours."
"Better have left me some hot water, bitch," Dean said with a teasing grin as he stepped past his brother, and chuckled when Sam flipped him off.
Dean stood under the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime of the last hunt, and leaned against the tiled wall, exhausted. These last few months had, quiet honestly, sucked out loud. With the deal out of the way Dean had hoped things would be back to normal, or as normal as they could be, but typical Winchester luck prevailed. They had been back on the road for barely six months and had had more hunts than they had had since he had picked Sam up from Stanford. The worst thing was that most of these hunts dealt with demons. They seemed to be coming out of the woodwork, more than could have possibly escaped from the Devil's Gate, all bent on kicking his ass. What he wouldn't give for a simple salt and burn…
When he opened the bathroom door, he saw that Sam had barely managed to pull back the covers on his bed before succumbing to his own exhaustion. Dean felt a twinge of sadness. The hunt had taken so much out of both of them, and he considered, not for the first time, calling it quits. It would be easy: the yellow-eyed-demon was dead, no imminent trip to Hell loomed over him, they had sent that bitch Ruby back to Hell the moment she came crawling around again, and Sam's "shining" was apparently gone for good. Yet there was something keeping him in this life…
You are a Hunter. A true Hunter, because you save others as well. You've never abandoned your job, and you've always done the best you could to take down what needed to be destroyed. You are one of my own.
Those words he had heard that fateful night over six months ago echoed through his mind and he shuddered. That someone, something had that kind of faith in him, well, it was scary. Scary…and electrifying. His sense of duty, instilled in him at the age of four, would not allow him to back down when another was depending on him. Besides, Sam was part of this, too, an equal partner in this business, and even though the urge to protect and take care of his brother was never far from his mind, a habit far too long in the making to break easily, he had to respect that arrangement.
His purpose considered for the night, he made his way over to the far bed and pulled the blanket up over Sam before going back over to his own bed and collapsing, asleep before his head hit the pillow.
For the first time in months, Dean awoke naturally, not pulled from restless sleep by a hideous nightmare of his brief time in Hell. He opened his eyes and blinked in surprise before rolling over to check the alarm clock, an antiquated model with flat brass bells on top.
7:30. Damn. He had been hoping to get more than four hours of sleep. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Sam sitting at the desk, hunched over his laptop.
"Find anything interesting?"
"Nope. Seems pretty quiet for once."
"How long have you been up?"
"A couple of hours."
"Damn. Couldn't sleep?" Sam gave his brother a strange look before glancing at the clock. A look of understanding crossed his face.
"It's 7:30 PM, Dean."
"Huh. No wonder I'm starving." And that's the longest night's sleep I've had in, well, forever.
"Nothing new, there," Sam said with a smirk. "I checked with the lady in the office, and she said there's a local tavern is about two miles away. 'Best burgers in the county'."
"Awesome. Let's get a move on, Sammy."
The Summerland Tavern looked like any other roadhouse they'd stopped at over the years. The weathered wooden building sat about 50 yards back from the road, and the parking lot was occupied by a variety of older cars, trucks, and a couple of Harleys that Dean admired as he and Sam walked past. The inside of the building was in better shape than Dean has expected, but the setup was vintage roadhouse. Sam went to find them a table while Dean headed for the bar where he asked the bartender for two beers and scanned the chalkboard menu.
"Best burgers in the county, huh?" The bartender, a rather feminine looking man, nodded.
"Best beer, too, but our house wine is exceptional."
"I'm not really a wine kind of guy, sorry. Maybe my brother--" He glanced over to see where Sam was and saw he was sitting at a booth, in deep discussion with a rather serious-looking young woman, the type Dean associated with libraries and study halls.
Attaboy, Sammy.
"—looks like he's busy. We'll stick with beer, I think."
The bartender smiled. "Your loss." He plunked two ice-cold bottles on the bar. "Anything else?"
"Two bacon cheeseburgers with the works, fries and onion rings." He figured Sam wouldn't be too picky at this point. They hadn't had anything that hadn't been heated up in a convenience store microwave for days.
"You got it." The bartender disappeared into the kitchen and Dean strolled over to Sam, setting one of the bottles on the table next to his brother and taking a closer look at his companion. The girl had thick brown hair twisted into a bun, gray eyes, and a thoughtful expression as she listened to Sam prattle on about Greek history. She glanced up briefly and smiled. Sam glanced up at him and nodded a thanks before continuing to talk in what Dean though of as his "happy lecture" voice. Dean decided to skip the geek-fest (mainly because it had been so long since he had seen his brother that relaxed) and slowly wandered towards the pool tables. Along the way, he scanned the room, checking out the other patrons for signs of trouble. In the booth next to Sam and the girl sat three women, all with tousled red hair and dressed in jeans and t-shirts, silently sipping red wine. As Dean watched they were joined by another woman, a similarly dressed drop-dead gorgeous blonde who turned her dark blue eyes to Dean with a curious expression before returning her attention to the other women without a backward glance. Dean sighed inwardly.
Just my luck…
The raucous group at a corner booth caught his attention and he turned to study them. Three men, two of which had burst out laughing moments before were sitting together. The oldest of the three was a short black man with graying hair, dressed in a rather loud jewel-toned Hawaiian shirt stretched tight over his pot belly. His spindly arms were moving about wildly as he appeared to be telling some sort of joke to his friends, his thick accent sounding strangely exotic for middle-of-nowhere, America.
The man to his left was bald and had the darkest skin Dean had ever seen, almost literally black. He had a pointed, hawk-like nose and when his eyes turned briefly to Dean he saw that they were a strange, dark reddish mahogany color. He showed no reaction to the other man's story or to Dean's gaze but sat unruffled, taking it all in.
Dean turned his attention to the third man who truly seemed to be enjoying his friend's joke. He had the tanned skin and features of a Native American, but his hair was a sandy blonde, shot through with threads of silver and black. When he noticed Dean's scrutiny he shot him a wolfish grin before turning back to his friends. Dean studied the group for a little while longer and decided that while eccentric this bunch appeared to be harmless. It looked like they would have an uneventful evening after all. He started to turn back toward the pool tables when a strong hand clamped on his shoulder and a rough voice spoke in his ear.
"We don't want your kind in here."
So much for peace and quiet.
"What, happy and handsome?" he snarked before turning to face his aggressor. His next comment died in his throat when he caught sight of the man: short, dark, and rather ugly, but with bulging arms that made Schwarzeneggar look puny. The man glared up at him, annoyance in his dark eyes.
"Leave. Now."
"Uh--."
"It's OK. He's one of mine."
Dean froze at the sound of another voice behind him. A voice he knew.
The man turned his attention over Dean's shoulder to the owner of that voice, yet unseen.
"Is this--?"
"Yes." The man's entire demeanor changed.
"Sorry," he muttered before turning and walking away. Dean slowly turned around to face the one who had spoken for him and saw a tall woman with thick silver-streaked dark auburn hair. She wore biker chaps and a long dark gray leather duster over her jeans and t-shirt. Her silvery-blue eyes glowed briefly as she smiled at him.
"Hello, Dean. Long time no see."
"Diana?" he sputtered. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you, of course. How have you been?"
"Uh…busy?" Her expression darkened.
"Yes, I know. Non-stop demon-hunting. Courtesy of an old 'friend'."
Oh crap…
"Lilith? She's behind all--?"
"Yes. Acting like the spoiled brat that she is. She's been letting more and more demons out, hoping to get you back."
"Shit. But…I mean, there's no way she can re-form the deal, is there? I mean, I know I got out of Hell, but--?"
"You don't remember. That's not important, since there is no way she can collect on that deal, now. It doesn't mean she can't try to get you another way."
"Great. So all of these demon attacks are because of me--."
"No, they are because Lilith is a very sore loser. But no matter. I'm working on that particular problem, which is why I brought you here. I need your help."
"You brought me here? How…you know what, never mind, I don't want to know. What do you need me to do?" Diana smiled.
"Right to the point. Good. I need you to deliver something to a safe location."
"I don't know… I mean, with demons gunning for me? How can I get it there without--?"
"Right now, you and Sam are protected, simply by being here, and that protection will last for three days after you leave. I'm being watched, and unfortunately even I can't hide for long from that many demons once they know what to look for, and I can't escape all of them, either."
"OK, so, we fly under the radar, get this thing where it needs to be, and then what?"
"I'll take it from there. This is my battle, not yours. Not this time." The expression on her face did not invite further debate on Dean's part. He glanced across the room at Sam, who seemed to be having a great time. Sorry, Sammy. No rest for the wicked, I guess.
"Where is this thing, and where does it need to go?"
Diana reached into her duster and brought out a flat, ornately carved wooden box. Dean stared at it with a sinking feeling.
"That didn't belong to Pandora, did it?"
Diana chuckled.
"No. This box contains the Arcanum. The less you know about it, the better. Now, there are three things you need to remember: one, do not tell anyone about this, not even Sam; two, once you deliver it, never return to that place; and three--."
"Let me guess: don't open the box."
"That is correct."
"So how am I supposed to get this to wherever without telling Sam?"
"Tell him you're doing a job. He can go with you, but he cannot know what you are carrying. It's for his safety as well as yours."
"OK, got it. Now, where do I have to go?"
"To South Dakota. Go to the crossroads where you made your deal, take the north road exactly 100 miles. On the left side of the road there will be a house. Take the box into the first room of the house and leave it in the center. It will be safe once you have done this, as this house is heavily warded and protected. Demons can not find it. After that I suggest you go to Bobby's."
"Why?"
"Well, don't you think you all deserve a better Christmas holiday than last year?" she asked with a wink. Dean chuckled weakly.
"Yeah, I guess. So, do I need to leave now?"
"If you wish, but you might want to have dinner first. They really do have the best burgers in the county." Right on cue, the bartender called "order up!" in their direction. Dean gingerly took the box from Diana and put it in his coat pocket. Diana reached into her coat again and handed him an envelope.
"What's this?"
"Your cover. You are doing a 'job'. It's payment."
"But--."
"Good luck, Dean." She turned and walked away without another word. Dean stared after her until the bartender's annoyed "order UP!" brought him back to reality. He stuffed the envelope in his jacket and went to get their burgers.
Diana watched the brothers leave and allowed herself a brief sigh of relief. The rest of the tavern patrons stopped their conversations and turned to her expectantly.
"It's started." They all nodded and returned to their conversations while she lowered herself into the nearest chair and put her clasped hands in front of her on the table. Soon she was joined by the blue-eyed blond woman who wore a look of deep concern on her beautiful face.
"You trust these humans enough for something like this?" she asked. "I know he is one of yours, but…"
"I trust them." She looked up at the other woman and grinned. "Call it hunter's instinct."
A/N: the story title is Latin for "laws of retribution", the rules that are set up so innocents will not be harmed when an enemy is taken on. The chapter title is also Latin (as will be the titles for the remaining two chapters) and refers to the justifications for starting a war. Not to be confused with Jus in Bello, the laws that should be followed while for conducting war.