Author's Note: Hi everyone! It looks like I'm starting Part 3 of my Supernatural AU where the Winchesters encounter the Stynes much earlier than on the show. I never imagined it would turn into such a lengthy fanfic, but I've been having so much fun, and I can't seem to stop. Thank you all for your support, and if you haven't read "Endangered" or "Coercion," it might be a good idea to start with them first. :-)
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters. This is purely for fan enjoyment.
SPN
(Sioux Falls, South Dakota … Tuesday, November 3, 2005)
Through shuttered windows, the morning light was gentle and unobtrusive, gradually stirring Dean Winchester from a fitful sleep. He didn't remember climbing into bed, but wasn't surprised. After pushing himself well beyond the breaking point, he should have collapsed days ago, and it would take some time to regain his strength. Sad thing was, he had it easy. His younger brother, on the other hand…
Groaning, Dean sat up, planted his feet on the floor, propped his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. What a nightmare! There was no other word describing the past week and a half. Sammy was abducted (again!) by the monstrous dicks of the Styne clan (short for Frankenstein), and to save him, Dean had ventured from the midwestern states all the way to Rome, back to Atlanta, then to Purgatory (yes, Purgatory!), and finally to a pocket dimension where his enemies made their home. Each step of the journey was fraught with danger, and not everyone in the rescue party survived—Pastor Jim gave his life to protect Dean and Bobby from a vindictive reaper.
And yet, as harrowing as the adventure was, Dean's suffering hardly compared with Sam's. God knows what happened during the ten days of his confinement, but somehow, it resulted in psychic abilities, a weird obligation to one of his captors (the boy, Cyrus), and the death of his girlfriend, Jessica Moore. Twisted mind games were involved—some crazy bitch took on the appearance of their mother, Mary Winchester, and had the nerve to call Sam "sweetheart." Not to mention Jacob Styne, who called Sam "little brother" while treating him like a prized possession. Bastard.
They wanted Sam for themselves because a yellow-eyed demon named Azazel claimed he would usher in some kind of cosmic cataclysm, and the Stynes had always prospered from chaos. Just thinking about it made Dean shiver. Sam hated hunting; he wasn't prone to violence; he genuinely cared for people (even strangers!); and to top it off, he had the moral code of a saint. How could he ever in a million years be responsible for such evil?
Dean would be damned before he let it happen. No one messed with his family!
Except, Sam was under the impression that Azazel killed their mom to get to him, and the Stynes had kidnapped him twice now, hoping to adopt him into their ranks. They were still out there, and they would absolutely try again. Third time's the charm. Dean would have to be hyper-vigilant to shelter Sam from their cruelty. Poor kid. School was officially off the table, and he couldn't even attend his girlfriend's funeral! The Stynes would expect it. His dreams of a normal life were over, and Dean's heart ached for him.
A knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts, and he glanced up to find Pamela Barnes watching him. A friend of Bobby's, she had one gorgeous figure, silky black hair, piercing green eyes, and a welcoming smile. Under different circumstances…
"How's Sam?" he asked, brushing off his baser instincts.
"Miserable," she replied, closing the door behind her.
Dean scoffed. "No, really? Thanks for that. You're a credit to your kind."
Like Sam, Pamela was psychic, and Bobby had called her to help the kid cope with his new abilities. Unsurprisingly, it was overwhelming to experience the thoughts and feelings of countless other people, and Sam was struggling to adjust. The drive from Atlanta to Sioux Falls had been agonizing, all the more so because Dean was powerless to do anything about it. Damn Stynes!
"It wasn't the Stynes," Pamela said as she took a seat in the chair directly across from him. "They might have unleashed Sam's abilities, but they didn't make him psychic. He was born this way."
"No." Dean shook his head. "There was never any sign—!"
"That you're aware of," she mildly corrected him. "But here's the truth. Considering the forces at work here, I can't respect your brother's privacy and keep his secrets. You have to know. On the night your mother died, a demon entered Sam's nursery and drizzled blood in his mouth, effectively harnessing his powers for his own purposes."
"WHAT!?" Dean exploded to his feet.
"Since then, without realizing it, Sam's powers have been repressed, subject to the demon's will. Caroline Styne—the family matriarch—set him free, and did him a favor, if you want my opinion. Whatever influence the demon had is gone now, and that's a good thing. But it presents a new problem."
"Ya think?"
Pamela could not have missed the derision dripping from Dean's voice, but she patiently endured it. "Your brother's relationship with the Stynes… They didn't brainwash him in the traditional sense, but they certainly used his powers against him. For days, they treated him to their attitudes and emotions. He felt—he shared—their malice, their entitlement, their arrogance, and even their perverse affection. You can't begin to imagine what that's like for a young, inexperienced psychic."
Suddenly, Dean's stomach clenched, and he broke into a sweat.
"The lines get blurred," she continued. "What distinguishes their sentiments from yours? What separates them? Sam was never trained for that! You can't blame him for his confusion. Even though the Stynes brutalized him, he nevertheless considers them authority figures, especially Jacob, and he loves that boy, Cyrus. He completely buys into his innocence. Now, I haven't met the kid, so I don't know one way or another, but Sam's abilities are powerful, and he's thoroughly convinced—which makes him a flight risk, by the way. If Jacob dangles the kid in front of him, mark my words, Sam will take the bait."
That much, Dean already knew. "I assume someone's watching him?" There were three other people in the house—Bobby Singer, Ellen Harvelle, and Rufus Turner—but they had followed Dean to hell and back, and he wouldn't be surprised if they were likewise exhausted.
Pamela nodded. "Ellen's keeping an eye on the bathroom door while he freshens up. He might be in there for awhile."
"He's alone in the bathroom?" Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. On the night before last, when they rescued Sam from the Stynes, he had been wearing a charm bracelet that magically linked him to Jacob, so when Jacob was shot in the arm and leg, Sam suffered the same injuries. Luckily, they were superficial, but Sam was still recovering. He shouldn't be on his feet.
"Dean!" Pamela cut him off before he reached the bedroom door. "How many times have you patched yourself up after a solo hunt? If you can do it, he can do it. Trust me, if you care about your brother, then remember this. The Stynes robbed him of his dignity. We have to help him get it back, and we can't do that by treating him like a feeble child."
"So, what?" Dean asked impatiently. "You want me to pretend this didn't happen, and take him hunting like nothing's wrong?"
"No, don't ignore the problem," Pamela said. "But don't suffocate him, either! He's already lost so much, and right now, he blames himself. For Jessica, for Cyrus, for Pastor Jim… And he's terrified of what the demon has planned for him. He's a breath away from despair, and he might very well spend the rest of his life floundering if you—of all people—lack faith in him. Dean… He needs you to have faith in him."
Dean shifted his weight uncomfortably. Faith… Pastor Jim used that word a lot, and look where it got him. No, Dean might love and trust certain people—primarily his father—but he never put much stock in the concept of faith. He wasn't even sure he understood what it meant. Somber, he dropped his gaze to the floor. "Dad never prepared me for this."
"I get it," she told him. "And believe me, I wish I could offer an easy, simple solution. But like it or not, a storm's coming, and Sam won't be able to hide forever. You boys need to make yourselves ready. My advice? Stay calm. The calmer you are, the calmer he'll be."
She was asking a lot. His brother was being stalked by monsters and demons, and when it came to Sammy's safety, Dean could have quite the temper. He sighed, at a loss and overwhelmed. Where was dad? He promised to meet them here, and Dean could really use his help!
Pamela nodded knowingly. "Buck up, kiddo," she said, lightly tapping him on the shoulder. "There's one more thing I should mention, and you're not going to like it."
SPN
Downstairs, in the spacious living room that also functioned as a library and home office, Bobby Singer wearily riffled through his collection of fake IDs. He was getting too old for this! If Dean, a strong and resilient twenty-six-year-old, could no longer stay awake, what made Bobby think he could? Hunters weren't exempt from the human need to rest, even in the midst of a crisis, and he knew all too well how sleep deprivation served as torture.
But that was the problem. As much as he wanted to, Bobby couldn't unwind. He couldn't close his eyes, he could barely keep from shaking, and now he had two psychics in the house who were bound to notice—if they hadn't already. How was he ever going to explain it? He loved those boys, and now he could honestly say he'd do anything for them.
Two pairs of footsteps on the staircase warned him of oncoming trouble, and he glanced up to watch Dean and Pamela enter the room. Sure enough, Dean was on edge with a glower that spoke volumes, and Pamela looked blatantly unapologetic. They knew, and Dean was pissed. Balls.
"What the hell, Bobby?" Dean asked with enough displeasure to wake Rufus—the old hunter had crashed on Bobby's couch, and now sat up, alert and irritable, not that Dean cared. "Pamela said you brought something back with you. Tell me you didn't let a monster out of Purgatory!"
"Don't you take that tone with me, boy!" Bobby snapped. Dean had a right to be angry, but still, he was much too young to be giving lectures. "I was up the creek without a paddle, and I made the only choice I could to survive."
"What's he talking about, Bobby?" Rufus asked with narrowed eyes. For a retired hunter, he remained as sharp and zealous as ever, and would not appreciate Bobby's judgment call anymore than Dean. But what's done is done.
Grimacing, Bobby pulled back the layered sleeves covering his left forearm to reveal the hitchhiker underneath—a radiant, reddish-gold soul clawing around beneath the skin. Damn thing hurt like the dickens, but so far, he could take it. After all, in his long life, he had suffered worse.
"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered at the sight. Rufus sprang to his feet while Pamela crept forward in fascination.
"It's a vampire," Bobby said. "Named Benjamin Lafitte. When we were trapped in Purgatory, I thought that reaper Bianca wanted to kill me. I took off, hoping to draw her away from you lot so you could escape, but she never attacked me."
"Right," Dean said shakily. "Cause she's a reaper, not a killer. She wanted some monster to do her dirty work first, and then she'd reap you after."
"Makes sense," Bobby agreed. "By the time I figured it out, I was miles away with dozens of monsters on my ass. Benny saved me. Said he could help me escape by leading me to a portal designed specifically for humans—if I promised to smuggle him out with me. Naturally, I refused. He's a vampire, for God's sake! But he must have been following me the whole time. He heard us talking about Sam. Said he'd help us rescue him, and I thought… Hell, the Stynes are dangerous bastards. Having a vampire on our side might prove useful."
Rufus scoffed. "Are you kidding me!? You can't trust him, Bobby! You know that!"
Bobby shrugged. "Desperate times. John Winchester teamed up with Doc Benton last year, and despite their history, they played well together. At least Benny's got no reason to hate us. Anyway, the portal dumped me out in the middle of Maine. I only flew home so I could safely dispose of Torvald's talisman before flying down to Louisiana to resurrect Benny. No sense juggling two freaks at once. Then we were gonna hightail it back to Atlanta and figure out our next move, but thankfully, you got here first."
(Torvald was a Nazi necromancer with a connection to the Styne family. When Sam was kidnapped over a week ago, Bobby and Dean were desperate to find him, so they stole a supernatural talisman from the Nazi to conjure a spirit with inside information. Monroe Styne himself, Jacob's father. Of course, that was bound to backfire—spirits did not like subjugation, and Monroe was no exception. He hated Bobby and was responsible for sending Bianca after him—which was how they ended up in Purgatory. Damn reaper.)
"You can't keep doing this, Bobby," Rufus moaned. "You can't keep trying to exploit things that'll turn around and bite you—in this case, literally!"
"I'm not an idiot, Rufus! I safely destroyed the talisman. Monroe's gone. But his family's still out there, including Jacob, and we need all the help we can get. The vampire's worth the risk."
"Why don't I be the judge of that?" Pamela interjected, as fearless as ever. She spent quite a bit of her time delving into the spirit world; she was adept at reading souls, and if Bobby knew her at all, she wasn't bothered by supernatural predators. They were like animals, driven by hunger and the need to survive. Definitely dangerous, but not as depraved as demons or psychopaths. If Bobby had to wager, he'd bet that she had encountered far more offensive creatures than vampires over the years.
"Whoa, Pamela!" Dean started in surprise when he realized what she had in mind. "Are you sure about this?"
She smiled appreciatively. "Don't worry about me, sweetheart. I'm what you'd call experienced." Then, with a suggestive wink, she added, "In more ways than one." For the first time in a long time, Dean's expression softened, and Bobby wondered why they didn't call her days ago.
Crossing the rest of the way over to him, Pamela scrutinized his glowing arm. Bobby could see the light reflecting in her eyes. "Hello, Mr. Lafitte," she said quietly, and the painful contortions beneath his skin began ebbing in response. The vampire was nothing if not polite. Ever so slowly, Pamela reached out and touched the undead soul. Immediately, she stiffened, gasping at the intensity, and Dean would have dragged her away from what he perceived as a threat, but she waved him back. Bobby knew such discomfort was par for the course.
After a few minutes of psychic exertion, Pamela cocked her head. "Really? What was her name?" She listened, and soon enough, reached her verdict. She withdrew her hand, stumbling backwards, and Dean steadied her while Bobby pulled down his sleeves, covering his arm once more.
Pamela chuckled. "Well, now I've seen everything. This vampire's more introspective than your average human, and he was killed by his own nest because he deserted them in favor of a woman. Damn, Bobby, you know how to pick 'em."
"That's ridiculous!" Rufus protested, and despite everything, Bobby was prone to agree. A vampire in love with a human? Never in a million years!
Pamela shrugged. "He wasn't lying, and he doesn't mean us any harm. He drinks blood from transfusion bags, not from people, and if you want his help against the Stynes, or that demon, or any other monster, he'd be happy to offer his expertise. Anything to make the last few decades in Purgatory worth the constant warfare."
Bobby glanced at Dean and Rufus. His mind was already made up, but he could tell neither of them liked it, not that he could blame them. "Trust me. I'll keep the bloodsucker on a tight leash, and when this is over, if you still want to send him back, I'll do it myself. But right now, I'm heading to Louisiana, and don't try to stop me."
"What's in Louisiana?" Dean asked.
"Benny's grave."
Dean nodded in exasperation. "Of course it is. Cause that's just what we need—another monster with a southern drawl." Jacob Styne was raised in Shreveport, and from what Bobby understood, he had a noticeable accent. Unfortunately, so did the vampire, and Sam might struggle to cope with the sound of his voice.
"All things considered, you boys should stay here," Bobby said. "Wait for your daddy."
"I guess that means I'm coming with you, then," Rufus quickly decided. "You sure as hell ain't going by yourself."
"Fine," Bobby agreed. He wouldn't mind the back-up, especially in the Stynes' neck of the woods. Just because the family had taken refuge in Atlanta didn't mean they lost control of the Bayou, and they'd be eager to meet friends of the Winchesters. As far as Bobby knew, they weren't aware of his identity, but one could never be too careful—hence the need for fake IDs.
"This is crazy," Dean complained, pressing his hands against his head, obviously overwhelmed.
"This is war," Bobby replied. "And your brother… He's hanging in the balance. If we're going to win, we can't afford to play it safe." Dean grimaced, but Bobby knew he made his point. Sam had real evil after him, and with their luck, things were gonna get worse before they got better. Something had to be done—for the kid's sake, and maybe even the world's.
SPN
Please Review! Your comments are greatly appreciated and help motivate me to write faster. I always look forward to hearing from you! :-)