Title: Wicked Things
Rating: MA for sex and violence
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, nor Dean and Sam. Don't sue, I have no money.
Summary: Dean and Sam end up in Salem chasing down a werewolf. Kind of an AU, since the werewolf mythos in this story is different than in Heart.
Review: I love reviews. So please do so!
Wicked Things
Chapter 1
Her eyes adjusted to the dark, but not quickly enough. It was on her, foul breath puffing on her face. Saliva dripping onto her cheek. Blood droplets fell from the wound she had inflicted, singeing her skin. Selina grunted and rolled, pushing her arms and legs up, just enough leverage to move the creature away from her so she could grab her boot knife.
Shots rang out, and she instinctively ducked her head, then rolled away from the noise, moving into a crouch with her knife in her hand, silver glinting in the moonlight. A figure was over the creature, the silver flashed as the blade plunged downwards, disappearing into the fur.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, walking forward, ignoring the gun the younger one had trained on her. She recognized them, but in her adrenaline fueled mode, she couldn't place their faces.
"I could ask you the same thing." His response was terse, annoyed almost. His dark eyes swept over her, taking her in, making her uncomfortable.
"Selina Cloyce." She replied just as tersely, shoving her knife back in her boot as a sign of truce. Her hands on her slender waist, hip cocked in annoyance.
"Dean," He tilted his head to the young one. "Sam."
Selina turned her silver eyes to him. "You'd better aim that gun somewhere else, if you know what's good for you."
Sam looked to the older man, obviously his brother, who nodded. The gun was shoved into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back.
"Winchester," She said, looking both men over, realizing who they were. "You're right on time." Selina turned and walked back to her car, seeing their Impala parked beside the Bug convertible.
Dean strode behind her, purposeful steps, as Sam straggled behind, looking over his shoulder at the dead pile of fur with a silver sword sticking out of its chest.
"How did you know our name? What do you mean by 'right on time'?" Dean demanded, grabbing her arm and turning her to face him.
"I know your name because I've been waiting for you. And you are right on time." Selina shrugged, moving her arm, gracefully removing his hand from it. She looked into his dark emerald eyes, wet her lips nervously. "I'm the last of our line of Hunters. In twenty eight days, you have to kill me."
With Dean and Sam gaping at her, she slid into the VW, and started the engine. "Follow me. You guys look like you need something to eat and a good night's sleep." And she was pulling away, driving along the dirt road that led from the forest to the edge of town.
"How do we know she's telling the truth?" Sam asked, staring at his brother in disbelief. Dean was always the skeptical one, why was he taking this woman's word?
"I just know, Sammy, okay?" He stared out the windshield, eyes on the back of the VW. The top was down, her auburn hair was being whipped around in the wind.
"It can't be good if we have to kill her. Why would we have to kill her?" The younger Winchester pressed on.
"That's what we're going to find out." And by the tone of Dean's voice, Sam knew to shut up.
The house was an enormous Victorian, complete with a tower. The front yard was a wild tangle of ivy, flowers and herbs. A willow tree swung it's long branches back and forth in the cool night breeze. Selina had parked her Bug and put the top up, and Dean pulled the Impala up behind her.
As she opened the front door, the boys were right behind her, stepping up onto the wrap-around verrandah.
"Nice house," Sam said, breaking the terse silence.
"Thanks," She swung the door open, motioning them inside. "It's been in the family for generations."
The inside was like a museum, with antique furniture and collectibles. It was dimly lit by the fire that was stoked in the hearth. Selina removed her leather jacket, tossing it on the arm of a wingback chair, upholstered in dusty red damask. She led the way into the kitchen at the back of the house, gesturing for the two men to sit at the solid oak table.
Dean's eyes surveyed the room, taking in the broom above the back door, and various sachets and crystals hanging in front of the window. Witch was his first thought. But witches were evil...weren't they?
"Yes, I'm a witch," Selina said casually, as if she could read his thoughts. Her back was to them, putting the kettle on the stove. She went to the refrigerator and took out the makings for sandwiches and started constructing them on the butcher block counter.
Sam's brow furrowed. He looked at his brother, but Dean's eyes were merely on the woman at the counter. "Witch?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, a witch," She flicked her auburn hair over her shoulder, carrying roast beef sandwiches to the table. "And no, we're not all evil. I'm descended from Sarah Cloyce, one of the witches who were tried at the Trials."
"The Witchcraft Trials," Sam interjected. "She went to trial in 1692, for witchcraft against six of her neighbours."
"Geek." Dean hissed at him.
"Falsely accused." She added, pouring boiling water into a tea pot. "Unfortunately, I'm the last of our line. We weren't just witches, we were Hunters as well. It seems many demons like Salem. I think it has more to do with the evils of humanity than with the witches here, though."
Dean slowly chewed his sandwich, enjoying the taste of real food. He was sick of the min-a-mart meals he and Sam were stuck eating most of the time. Selina placed mugs in front of them, and set the pot of tea and a dish of honey in the center of the table.
"So," He began slowly. "You were hunting that werewolf?"
"For a few months. They're hard to track, since they only become wolf-like for 3 days out of the month." She sat down, pouring herself a cup of tea, adding a dab of honey. "I almost had it, too. It knew all my moves, and nearly killed me. Good thing you two came along."
"You said we have to kill you-" Sam started, but cut off at a glare from his brother. Why was Dean believing everything she said? Was it a spell? She could be a demon for all they knew.
"I'm not, and it's not," Selina looked at him sharply, then sipped her tea, sighing.
"I'm starting to think I need a tinfoil helmet," Sam muttered, and Dean chuckled.
Selina set her tea cup on the table. "There are some wolves left, but we can't track them until next month. Every twenty eight days is when they transform from human to wolf, and they stay that way for three days. I'm down to my last silver blade, so we're going to have to get some more."
"We have bullets," Dean told her, trying some of the tea. "Silver."
"They don't work," She smiled at his nod of approval over the lavender tea. "Only a silver blade can pierce their hearts. The blade must stay in them after they are dead."
She stood, clearing the table, and putting dishes into the sink. "I'll show you to the guest rooms, and you guys can get a decent night's sleep. Tomorrow, I'll tell you more."
Dean was glad to have a room to himself for the first time in months. He always had to share a motel room with his brother, and the only privacy was in the bathroom. This bedroom was furnished similarly to the rest of the house--antique furniture, dark wood, charms hanging in front of the window. The bed was massive, with four posters, and a thick down duvet.
He wanted to talk to Selina more, to get more information. Waiting for a month for a hunt was a waste of time. He was restless, wanting to move on. Walking down the hall he checked on Sammy, who was snoring in his own bed. He got to the room that was actually in the tower at the front of the house. Round rooms held spirits, that's what his dad had always said. He could see candle light glowing under the door. There was soft mumbling behind it, and he pressed his ear to the door, trying to hear the words. After a moment it stopped, and the candle light flickered, getting dimmer.
Dean cracked the door silently, peering in. The room was massive, and round. There was a bed across from the door, full canopy with drapes on three sides, held back with cord. On one side was a fireplace, on the other were French doors, which were wide open. Candles lined the walls on shelves and in sconces, only half were lit. Drapes blew around in the wind that had picked up, framing Selina. She stood on the balcony, hair tied at the nape of her neck with a ribbon, flimsy white cotton night gown billowing in the breeze. Her hands gripped the railing, looking up at the full moon. Her skin was creamy and pale, eyes wide and silver. The night gown did nothing to hide a lovely nubile figure. She turned, eyes on him.
"Dean."
Her voice was soft now, not that terse one she used earlier in the evening. The one she used to keep everyone away.
He started towards her, "I wanted-"
She frowned, shaking her head. "Not now," she told him. "I need to rest...it hurts." Only then did Dean see her hand over her belly, blood seeping through the white cotton. Selina was falling, and he moved quickly, catching her before she hit the floor. Scooping her up into his arms, he laid her down on the bed.
Her silver eyes looked at him, almost looking through him. "It will heal soon. I'll be okay."
"You're bleeding-"
"It's the bite. It stops bleeding when the moon isn't full anymore."
"You were bitten? By the werewolf?" Dean's stared down at her, the dark green depths of his eyes swept over her face, settling on her lips. She was smiling, took his hand and put it on her abdomen, where the blood was. It had already dried, leaving a red stain on her night gown.
"See? The moon is turning. I'll be fine." She sat up. "Until the next full moon, anyways."
"That's why we have to kill you." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes," Selina swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Let me change, then we'll talk."
Dean stood, turning his back as she slid the white cotton over her head and donned a black silk robe that hung to her knees. He resisted the urge to peek at her. He frowned, wondering if he was losing his libido. Her hand was on his shoulder. Its weight tingled through his t-shirt and onto his flesh, spreading over his body. He felt it move down into his groin, and suppressed a groan. Well, his libido wasn't affected, that was for sure. But how the hell did she do that just by touching his shoulder?
She was seated on the bed when he turned around, trying to keep the bottom of the robe across her thighs. It kept falling apart, showing an expanse of creamy thigh. He groaned inwardly. Nope, definitely nothing wrong with his libido.
Selina laughed, a melodious and tinkling sound. A blush actually spread over her features, making her seem young and girlish. "Come on, Dean. You aren't that hard up. You got laid in the last town you were in. Pretty blonde, wasn't it?"
He smirked, remembering the quickie in the bar's bathroom. Then he looked at her sharply. How did she know that?
"Witch," She pointed at herself. "Maybe YOU should invest in the tinfoil helmet."
He chuckled, full lips turning up at the corners. He opened his mouth to give her one of his best lines, but she cut him off.
"I'm not your type, Dean. You like them young, dumb and blonde." She stared at him for a moment, eyes raking over his body. "Pity." The word was out before she could stop it. She knew she was heading into dangerous territory.
"Stop teasing me, lady," he warned her, eyes becoming dark like embers. He knew there were more important things to think about--like having to shove a silver blade through her heart in a month--but he couldn't stop thinking about grabbing her and ripping that robe off her body. And without even knowing it, he was standing directly over her, looking down. He sat, still staring at her, taking in her eyes and lips. His hands were cupping her cheeks, leaning forward, wanting to capture those full pink lips with his own.
Selina pulled away, clearing her throat. "We shouldn't."
"You're right," He cleared his own throat. "Maybe we should talk tomorrow."
She was nodding. He stood, and walked to the door.
"Good night Selina."