Old Blood

By: Mad Girls' Story (Sleepwalking Dreamer and Beautybedamned)

A Supernatural AU Fan Fiction Piece

CREDITS AND DISCLAIMERS:

First, Supernatural, the characters, the idea and everything else aired by WB belong to Eric Kripke and are being used without permission. This is purely for enjoyment and fandom-sharing-love people, no money made here. Second, all non-canon characters mentioned from hereon belong to the dynamic duo of Mad Girls' Story Inc. (Sleepwalking Dreamer and Beautybedamned). No using without permission. Asking is good, you know.

WRITERS' NOTES:

This is the first part in a series of fics that we're working on for the Junctures'verse, our little AU for SPN. Why "Junctures"? Because Crossroads sounded cheesy, Junction didn't quite cut it, and we wanted something that meant places of divergence and meetings.

These were mostly inspired by Sleepwalking Dreamer's idea to incorporate creatures not commonly seen in Western folklore; that said, we would like to mention that a great deal of the inspiration is credited to a book by Maximo Ramos which details much of creature myth for Philippine folklore. We also credit the idea proposed by Neil Gaiman in American Gods that old-world monsters/gods may survive as long as people believe in them. Since there is a similar idea proposed in the SPN episode 1.17 "Hell House", we see no reason to use this as a plausible plot-point in future "episodes". For now though, we would just like to make it known that any modifications to the traditional folkloric perceptions of these creatures we debated for long hours, bearing in mind that these creatures, like humans (and the vampires presented in SPN) are capable of adapting to a fast-changing world. It is our hope that purists keep an open mind and do not get on our case for rewriting some things the way we did.

ESTABLISHING TIMELINE:

In the continuum gap between episodes 1.05 (Bloody Mary, locations: Toledo, Ohio & Fort Wayne, Indiana; about late December) and 1.06 (Skin, location: St Louis, Missouri; speculated sometime in March).

RATING: T

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Dean Winchester (Jensen Ackles) and Sam Winchester (Jared Padalecki); Guest-Starring: Carla Tenorio, Alfonso Tenorio (Benjamin Bratt), and Luke Richardson (Corey Sevier)

TEASER:

Strange attacks have been occurring in Ocean City, Maryland, involving the deaths of young, often pregnant women. The small community has gone up in arms over the death, and while no leads have turned up regarding who has done these killings and why, investigations are on-going. When Dean and Sam Winchester got wind of the most recent attack, they decide that it might be worth their while to drop by and find out what's going on – until they find out that someone might just have gotten ahead of them on this one…

Prologue

Ocean City, Worchester County, Maryland

"Luke!" Footsteps moved idly down the flight of stairs, each step cushioned by a spread of carpet. "Luke!" called the voice again, louder this time.

Luke Richardson idly picked up the pile of mail that was sitting on the table by the front door, taking his time to sift through them as his feet brought him in the general direction of the kitchen. "Got mail from Mom and Dad. I think it's a card." He glanced up at his older sister, Emily Richardson-Fletcher as she puttered about in her kitchen, putting the final touches to dinner.

"Do you know where the bug spray is?" She looked over to him helplessly, one hand coming up to wipe away the sheen of sweat from her brow. "Ugh, I swear to God, whatever that dog of yours brought in must think I'm a walking buffet…" She bent over briefly, swatting the skin of her bare calves with her palm.

"Aw, c'mon sis," Luke chuckled then, tossing her a look of innocence as he stepped over to her side, neatly lifting the pot on the stove to prevent it from boiling over. "You love that dog too, admit it. Besides, the vet said they'd give her a scrub-down to get rid of the things."

Emily shot him a withering look. "Fleas, Luke. Fleas."

"We don't know that." Luke grinned back cheekily, "Besides, you're not going to die from a couple insect-bites."

"What I'm wondering though is that they don't seem to be bothering you. Even Bobby's complained of getting bites." Emily smiled then, watching him take over at the stove. She wrinkled her nose. "Then again, you're probably used to Aslah's fleas since you let her sleep with you a lot."

"As if," came the quick retort, and both siblings burst out laughing.

"God," Emily leaned against the counter, exhaling a long breath.

" 'Sup?" Luke asked, both brows coming up as he plucked a wooden spoon from the rack to stir the stew a bit.

"Nothing, nothing," Em replied and walked over to the windows; pulling up the blinds and pushing them open wider to let in wind. "It's just so damned hot."

"It's not, Em. That's just you." Luke replied, idly stirring in a bit more pepper. "Then again, I'm not the one carrying a beach ball in my stomach so I wouldn't really know, would I?"

At that, Em cried out in protest, striding over to smack him playfully on his arm: "Alright then, wise-guy, make like a slave and move away from the pot. You're on designated fan-Princess-Em-duty from hereon."

"Haha, no way." And although Luke meant what he had said, he knew, if it really came down to that, he would have willingly fanned his sister if only to cool her down. She was three months pregnant and she always seemed to feel hot despite the January chill. He'd already kidded her that it was probably because she was a Maine-kid through and through; and growing up in the chilly north tended to make even this mild Maryland weather warm by their standards.

"Go. Sit down somewhere already. I've got this." He stuck his tongue out at her, one hand nudging her off by the small of her back. He couldn't help but sigh as he watched her go, her figure disappearing just beyond the wall that separated the dining area from the kitchen. It baffled him sometimes, why he had come down all the way from his hometown in Maine where the rest of their family lived, though most of it was that he had missed Emily, because in spite of the fact that they were brother and sister and hence should have proven anathema to each other, the two of them adored each other and took pride in making it known to everyone they knew that they were particularly close.

When Emily had decided that she wanted to study out of state, he hadn't really worried too much. After all, everyone was entitled to spread their wings and head out of the nest. But when she'd broken the news that she was getting married to Bobby Fletcher and moving to Maryland for good, even just the idea of Em finally leaving the homestead made the house seem emptier, quieter.

He supposed it didn't take him very long to make up his mind. He had already been in his senior year and he'd made the decision that as soon as he graduated high school he'd take some time for himself to travel down to Ocean City just to see her and Bobby. There was no pressure on him jumping straight into college anyway, and his mom had even told him that a break from the books was something he deserved.

So he went, and eventually the three-week visit turned into him moving in and arranging an application to the local college. He might not have wanted to jump straight into university, but he didn't want his brain to relax too much.

He hadn't expected it though. He'd always figured his sister and his brother-in-law would want their space all to themselves, newlyweds and all that. But as it turned out, Emily and Bobby wouldn't have it any other way. They'd practically insisted that he move in with them – presumably under the suggestion that they'd put him up until he'd found a place of his own. But he couldn't help but wonder if the reason the day for him to move out didn't materialize was because Bobby knew he'd keep Em from getting homesick, or that they, as in-laws who barely knew each other managed to get along so well. At the end of it though, Luke was never lonely -- there was Emily to nag and Bobby to share 'guy stuff' with, like watching football on TV or going out drinking with several other friends from the neighborhood. Maybe it was also because he'd proven himself helpful in and around the house, even as he took part-time classes.

But it was more than just a decent arrangement. In exchange for taking up the guestroom and turning it into his own, he'd offered to do some of the chores, or to cook dinner for the 'lovebirds' when they got home. Chores were immaterial to being close to family, and, he was proud to say that, at least, unlike some guys his age whose cooking skills were limited to following the instructions on the lid of a microwave dinner or dialing the phone for pizza delivery, he knew his way around the kitchen enough to whip up something more than just okay. He might not have been top chef, but he could make decent food without boiling the bottom out of a pot.

Especially now, Luke thought as he glanced up to her now as he took hold of the potholders, tipping the soup into the new bowl Emily had just pulled out from the cupboard.

In the wake of the news of his sister's pregnancy, he and Bobby had fallen into a mutual agreement that wasn't a good thing to let the lone female in the house to do any heavy housework for the first trimester of her pregnancy. Having never grown up with a brother, Luke enjoyed the twisted kind of 'manly-bonding' that they enjoyed from playfully 'bullying' Em. So, they pulled more weight now, taking on more of the housework so that Emily could relax as soon as she got back from her shift in the hospital, he didn't mind it in the least. And as far as he could tell, neither did Bobby. That guy was too excited to be a dad. As for himself, the prospect of being around when the baby came along tickled him to no end.

He was going to be an uncle. Couldn't wait to be an uncle.

He looked up again from the pot and frowned. Emily had wandered off and with a shrug, he carried the bowl of stew out onto the dinner table, only to catch sight of her stepping out of one of the storage rooms with an, "Aha, there it is!" and a can of bug spray clutched in her hand. "I'll finally be able to get those suckers." She grinned as she shook the can.

"Whoa there!" Luke quickly set the hot bowl down, and stepped over to her, taking the can neatly out of her hand. He put on his best I-know-what's-best-for-you face and spoke the next words with a measure of brotherly authority. "You finish up dinner, let me handle the bugs."

At that, Emily simply raised a brow at him. "This isn't heavy housework, Luke. I have to keep on moving around if I don't want to turn into a fat cow before I even show."

"That's not the point, Em. Just don't want you inhaling any of this stuff." Luke grinned as he waved the can a little. "Can't be any good for the baby."

Emily rolled her eyes. "You and Bobby are insane. As I remember it, Mom was walking around and doing much of the housework when I was younger and she was pregnant with you. She even lifted a Christmas ham when she was around five months along, and you turned out just fine."

"Still not the point. Just watch over the stove and I'll get rid of the bugs." With that said, Luke turned, heading for the bedroom that Emily and Bobby shared. After making sure that the windows were shut, he sprayed insecticide on the floor in a wide arc, hoping that it would knock out enough of the bloodthirsty insects from between the cracks of the floorboards to leave the married couple in peace. He made a mental note to do the same in the hallway, and maybe along the stairs. Bug-bombing the place was the best solution, but then they'd have nowhere to bunk for the night, so the spray was the current alternative.

As Luke stepped out of the room, he heard the door open, followed by voices raised in greeting – one of them being Bobby's. It comforted him to know that they would be a happy family tonight, not least of all because of the murders that had been happening around town.

Shutting the bedroom door, he headed back to the kitchen, already hearing his brother-in-law's voice coming from that direction, managing only to catch the tail end of the elder man's sentence: "…great loss."

"What's a great loss?" Luke asked, setting aside the can of bug spray in the little cabinet underneath the display case before he sat himself down at the table.

"Mara Cruz died this morning," Bobby explained softly, his eyes dark and serious. His tie was loose around his neck, the top button undone.

Emily's eyes widened and her hand came up to cover her mouth. "Oh God," she murmured, "How are Paula and Mitch taking it?" she asked, Mara's siblings coming immediately to mind. They all went to the same church as the Cruz family, and Bobby himself had practically grown up next door. When Em had first arrived, it had been both Mitch and Paula who had made her feel right at home in the tight little community.

As if on instinct, Luke noticed how one hand fell over the flat expanse of her stomach while her free hand reached out to her husband, the gold of her ring glinting in the light. He was across from them both, scooping up some stew onto his own plate.

"I just don't understand it, I don't understand why. Why of all people, Mara. She was just a kid." Bobby murmured softly, his fingers curling over Emily's own. "I remember, Mrs. Cruz used to invite me over all the time for Sunday lunch when I came home on the weekends and Mom and Dad were off somewhere," he explained softly, his eyes meeting Luke's over the table. "I never met Mara until much later, when she finally moved here after their maternal grandparents migrated to Canada from the Philippines, but you know... Mrs. Cruz used to talk about her a lot. Always said that Mara would come here to study as soon as she got that scholarship."

Luke felt his stomach drop and he suddenly felt his appetite fading away. The neighborhood hadn't been quite so safe lately. People were dying, here, there; and the idea that someone who lived around three houses down from where they did was now one of those dead just made him feel cold all over. "Did they say when the funeral would be?" He asked suddenly, maybe too suddenly, but he knew they would both understand.

"They said it'd happen as soon as the coroner was finished with figuring out what happened to her." He didn't say anything, but the look on Bobby's face told Luke that he already knew how Mara had died.

Emily shivered. "I know that what happened is really sad and all, but could we not talk about it for a while? Not over dinner, anyway…"

Bobby smiled then, and squeezed Emily's hand gently. "It's okay, honey."

"Hey, easy there," Luke muttered, smirking as he saw Bobby withdraw his hand from Emily's. "No lovey-dovey-happily-married shit at the dinner table."

Bobby laughed while Emily scowled and kicked him under the table. "When you're married, you'll have no right to say that to us," she muttered as she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"I'm not happily married yet, nor am I in a hurry. So frankly, I'm entitled to poke fun at you guys whenever I want." In spite of that, though, Luke smiled. He was glad that Emily was happy with Bobby. She'd had a rough time with some of her other boyfriends before, for which Luke had been in more than a few scrapes "defending her honor," as he liked to joke – even though several occasions of split lips and one occasion of a mild concussion were not joking matters.

But the mood had lightened for the meantime, and each of them were glad that all thoughts of murder and funerals were banished for the meantime as they slid back in to talk of what they had done throughout the day, what they had planned for the coming weeks, the baby shower, the trip out of town to see Emily and Luke's parents, and other such things. Laughter, smiles, toasts made with water glasses filled with soda.

It was Emily who heard it first, the soft tik-tik, tik-tik that clicked in from the open window. When it caught on her ear, she cocked her head slightly to one side, and frowned.

Tik-tik. Tik-tik.

"You guys hear that?" she asked softly, causing Luke and Bobby, currently debating once again on sports, to look at her.

Bobby frowned. "Hear what, sweetheart?"

Tik-tik. Tik-tik.

Emily stood, pushing her chair back a little as she walked cautiously to the window. "That."

Tik-tik. Tik-tik.

Luke frowned as well, trading looks with Bobby as he stood to peer out the window at his sister's side. He had heard it too, unusual a sound as it was. "What the hell is that?"

Tik-tik. Tik-tik.

"Maybe it's some new thing in the Martin's garden. I heard Mindy's been re-landscaping the backyard. Could be one of those Japanese-style fountain things that's gotten her all fascinated lately." Bobby suggested, though there was something in the way that he said it that made the words sound more like a question than a statement.

"Could be a bird." Emily murmured, her fingers falling away from the lace curtain. "Or a squirrel. It is that time of the year, and you know how the animals get." She turned away from the window, from the darkness, and back to her husband and to their dinner. "Luke, come on. Let it go. It seems to have quieted down for now at least."

Luke hesitated for a heartbeat before he finally tore his eyes away. No bird he knew ever sounded like that, no squirrel either, but he didn't argue. Bobby was probably right, and a sound never did anyone harm besides. So he sat back down, and felt Emily's contagious smile creep onto his own. "So, brother mine. How's that girlfriend of yours doing lately?"

xxx

There was something of a mini-earthquake going on, but Dean Winchester didn't feel like getting up just yet. It was early – way too early – for anyone of sane and stable mind to be up and about. So instead, he rolled over onto his stomach, and buried his face in his pillow. It didn't feel like all that strong an earthquake anyway, or at least not strong enough to bring the motel down around his ears. He could stay in bed and let it pass.

The shaking, however, got stronger, and this time, was accompanied by an all-too-familiar voice: "-wake up. Dean, get up. It's morning."

Groaning, Dean opened his eyes, blinking them blearily before looking over his shoulder at the person who had shaken him awake. "Get lost, Sam." It wasn't a suggestion.

Sam Winchester gave him a small, crooked smile, as he stood. "I got up as soon as it was light out. Come on, get up. We've got work to do."

The groan that all but crawled out of Dean's mouth was hushed by the yawn that followed. "Don't you ever not want to be a morning person?" He reached for his watch, which was lying on the nightstand to his right, and checked the time. It was seven A.M. – not that bad a time to be up, but much too early when he wanted to sleep in. Sighing, the elder of the two brothers shifted himself upright so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, and facing the one who was currently sitting at the tiny table underneath the window, sipping coffee from a large paper cup.

Dean frowned. "Did you even get any sleep?" His mouth felt like something had died in it. Bathroom. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. He paused. Maybe after breakfast. He stood and stretched, feeling his muscles groaning underneath his skin. When he looked back down at Sam, he reached for the cup of coffee and all but grunted when the latter held it away.

"Couldn't sleep." Sam leaned back against the rest of the seat, his eyes turning outside to where people were walking on the sidewalk. His expression looked slightly rueful.

"Okay." Dean felt that he ought to ask why, but judging from the expression on his brother's face, it wasn't something that he wanted to talk about at that moment. So instead, he smiled, and nodded to the cup in his brother's hand. "Any more where that came from?"

Sam simply nodded to a cup that was standing across from him on the table. "All yours."

"Thanks." Dean slid into the chair opposite his brother, and sipped his coffee while he looked through the local papers. They were in Ocean City, hot on the trail of a case that Dean had managed to sniff out over the Internet. A hash of murders had been occurring in this particular side of the East Coast for the past three months; the victims were all women, with a handful of them in the early stages of pregnancy. The modus operandi was the same: each had hemorrhaged to death after someone – or something, as Dean preferred to think now – had sucked out their innards and, in the case of the pregnant women, their fetuses, through their vaginas.

What was more troubling about this whole affair though, was that such things occurred not only to women who slept alone in their rooms, but even to some who had their husbands right next to them – and the husbands were never the wiser about what had happened. One would think that, given the nature of the killing, the women would at least scream, but they never made so much of a peep even when they were being killed.

It was that fact that made up Dean's mind about driving out to the resort town to find out what was really going on.

The elder Winchester unfolded a copy of one of the local dailies, and frowned at what was on the front page. After scanning it momentarily, he turned the paper around and handed it over to Sam. "Check it out."

As Sam took the paper, Dean watched his brows knit together as he read the headline: "Another Victim Claimed by Serial Killer." Sam glanced up at Dean momentarily, and when Dean nodded for him to continue, he read the first part of the article: "Early yesterday morning another woman became the victim of the unknown serial killer who has been prowling the city for the last three months. Emily Richardson-Fletcher, wife of accountant Bobby Fletcher, was found dead in the bed she shared with her husband when he woke up at six A.M. This latest murder, which follows in the wake of the death of Mara Cruz, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Santiago Cruz, has plunged the entire community into fear and despair. Police have been trying hard to find the killer, but as yet they have turned up no evidence that could possibly lead to the one who could have committed the killings."

"Sounds suspicious, doesn't it?" Dean remarked as he sipped his coffee, watching his brother read the rest of the article in silence. "I mean, the woman could have at least made some noise while she was being killed, right?"

"So what do you think it is?" Sam asked as he put the newspaper aside. "I've checked Dad's journal, and there's nothing like this in there."

Dean shrugged. "Might be a local legend, something that's exclusive to the area, or it could be something really recent."

"Three months is too short a span of time for something like this to become a legend, even a local one." Sam sighed. "It might just be a really good serial killer, you know."

"Someone who can break into houses and kill people without making a sound at all?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound like serial killer material to me." He downed his coffee, and stood up. "Grab anything else you think you might need; I'm just going to put on some clothes and then we'll get moving again."

Sam gave him a look. "Where are we going this time?"

Dean shrugged. "Nowhere much – just going off to pay our respects to the dearly departed, provide emotional support – you know, the usual." He turned away from his brother then, knowing that he would only see Sam roll his eyes in disapproval, but he knew that there was no other choice. If they wanted to know what the hell had happened, they would have to go straight to the source of information.

Now, all he had to do was think up a good cover story for them, and they'd be good to go.