Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural or its characters.

A/N: This story is timed around the end of Season One, just before John's death.

The Shadow King

Chapter One

Where shadows dim with shadows mate
In caverns deep and dark,
Where old books dream of bygone days
When they were wood and bark,
Where diamonds from coal are born
And no birds ever sing,
That region is the dream domain
Ruled by the Shadow King.
-Walter Moers, "The City of Dreaming Books"

"That it?" Sam Winchester asked his older brother, ducking down so he could see out the driver's side window and get a clearer view of the building across the street.

Dean pulled the Impala off the road, parking on the curb. "That's the address Dad gave us," he replied quietly. They had expected to arrive at a house; instead they had come to what appeared to be an old firehouse: the large glass garage doors and so on, except it had been converted to a café, packed full of people. The parking lot was full, and they were only just able to snatch up the last remaining parking spot on the street.

The brothers were both exhausted. They had only just finished a grueling week-long hunt after a particularly nasty poltergeist, taken the time to check into a motel, and within two hours, they had received a phone call from their father John. "I need you boys to do me a favor," he announced, in his usual hushed tone when he used a payphone and was discussing a hunt.

"Sure, Dad," Dean responded quickly, exchanging a glance with his baby brother. Their father had been elusive, but they both knew he was busy hunting down the thing that killed their mother. He touched bases with them once in a while, but always dropped off the map soon after that. He sent them cases now and then, and this was just one of those.

"Kansas City, MO. You look up Polly Dranias when you pull into town; she'll give you the details, help you with anything you might need," John instructed them.

"Who is she? A hunter?" It was a name Dean had never heard before.

John paused for a moment, then Dean heard him sigh on the other side of the phone. "No. She's a civilian; she runs a café, but I trust her," he told his oldest firmly, and he knew that was all he had to say. If it was someone he trusted, Dean wouldn't question his instruction any further. "You got a pen?"

"Yeah."

"Polly Dranias. D-R-A-N-I-A-S. Only one in town. It sounds pretty bad, so you watch yourself, and if I finish with my hunt in time, I'll swing by and help you boys out."

Dean nodded as if his father could see him, and then he heard the phone click on the other side. After that, Sam and Dean both took a few hours to sleep away the exhaustion of the previous hunt, shower, grab a cup of coffee, and they hit the road. Stopping only for gas and to switch drivers, they arrived in Kansas City six hours later, and they found themselves parked in front of the old garage coffee shop, bursting with life.

Slowly, the Winchester boys got out of the Impala, slamming the doors shut, crossed the street, and walked inside. The décor was simple: the brick walls painted a dark grey; the menus hung up from the high ceiling; simple tables and chairs and not a single one empty. The bar, holding the espresso machine, also displayed tshirts and mugs, one that stated "Wake the F*ck up", another that said "Your mom drinks decaf." Dean couldn't help but grin: he liked the attitude of the place, and it was even better that Black Sabbath was playing from the speakers overhead.

They waited their turn in line, then greeted the cashier. "Hey, we're looking for Polly Dranias. She in today?" Dean inquired after they each ordered a coffee.

"She'll be here any minute now," the cashier responded quickly with a smile. "I'll send her your way when she gets here if you want to hang out."

"Yeah, sure thing. Thanks."

So the brothers sat down at the bar, the only empty seats in the place, and Sammy pulled out his laptop. During the last stop before entering Kansas City, they had stopped for a newspaper and discovered nothing at all. No suspicious deaths, nothing that gave them reason to believe that there was anything supernatural going on. Except for the fact that John would never have sent them there without checking into it first, no matter how much he trusted anyone. So instead of giving up, they got back in the car and drove the last stretch until they reached the café, where they now sat.

"Doesn't look like it's made it into the news, whatever it is," Sammy concluded after a few minutes of staring hard at his screen. He shrugged, because that didn't necessarily mean anything at all. Often, the police were able to lie their way out of a publicized case with things they couldn't explain.

Dean glanced around the café without a response. Whenever his dad sent him on a hunt, he felt more anxious to get started immediately. John would never have called them, risking their safety and his own, if there wasn't a damn good reason. But at the same time, there was the knowledge that this Polly wasn't a hunter, whoever she was. And why hadn't he ever heard of her before? Because it wasn't really as if John had many friends as it was, but the few he had were all hunters or involved in the lifestyle somehow. But no, this was different.

"Nothing on any of the local forums either," Sammy continued. "Recent deaths in the area haven't seemed to increase recently. No omens in the area either."

Dean nodded distantly, still silent as he looked around at the people inside the coffee shop: they were mostly younger—twenties and thirties. Some were dressed in torn clothes with tattoos and dreadlocks; others were dressed more simply and classically. Some wore scrubs, probably employed by the hospital up the street. As usual in coffee shops, there were people studying, others visiting, and so on. People were in and out pretty quickly, as there weren't many seats left open. Nothing out of the ordinary.

They had waited only ten or fifteen minutes, when they were approached by a girl on the opposite side of the bar. She was in her early or mid twenties, maybe, with copper hair, dimples when she smiled, gauged ears, and a freckled nose that was pierced on either side. Not remotely what Dean expected: she was cute, dressed in short shorts and a loose fitted tank top with tattoos on her arms and legs. "Sam and Dean, right?" she asked with a smile. "Thank you so much for coming."

Dean nodded once. "Our dad said you would fill us in," he said, cutting right to it. Whenever their father sent them on a hunt, he went all in.

She passed Dean a single file, thin and wrinkled. "This is Raymond Steller. He was a doctor at a children's hospital up the street, killed in a car accident about six months ago," she began in a casual tone as to not alert anyone around them. "There was nothing suspicious about the accident according to the police: they said he fell asleep at the wheel, left it at that."

Dean glanced down at the pictures of the accident—the car's front end crushed, photos of the bloody body. Quickly, he scanned the police report, and as she said, it had been deemed an accident and the investigation was closed. He passed it to his brother, then glanced back at Polly. "So?" he asked, trying not to sound too impatient.

"Raymond Steller was declared brain dead, and his only living relative—a brother who he hadn't spoken to in over thirty years—gave consent to remove the ventilator as well as donate his organs," she continued in a matter of fact tone, sliding another file towards Dean. She took a deep breath before she went on, "In here, I have Thomas Diern, Sophia Busk, Marcus Young, Stephen Dell, Brian O'Malley, and Heather Richard."

Dean skimmed through the second file more carefully: autopsy reports, police statements, obituaries, and so on. Whoever Polly was, she was thorough, but he still didn't understand the connection or why John had sent them here. "The cause of deaths were all different though, not a single car accident. Thomas Diern had a massive heart attack; Sophia Busk went into kidney failure," Dean pointed out.

Polly nodded. "Yeah. That's what the cops said, but I had a bad feeling about it, so I did some digging. The six later victims each received an organ transplant in the months leading up to their deaths."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, both alert now. Similar cases were not unheard of. The pieces were starting to come together. "Yeah, but don't organ transplants fail all the time?" Sammy inquired.

"Yes, and no," Polly answered, waiting while another customer walked past. "After an organ transplant, there is a possibility that the recipient's body may reject the organ; they're put on medication to prevent that, but it's not always effective. When someone gets an organ transplant, the donor is checked for all sorts of preexisting conditions, including anything that would cause a heart attack or kidney failure, as well as STDs, or genetic disorders and whatnot. The reason being that the transplant process is so traumatic that such things are much more dangerous to the recipient afterward. If a recipient goes into rejection, it's a slow process, and they're put back on the waiting list for another organ." She watched Dean nod once that he understood.

"Okay, so how does it all fit together?" Sam asked. "Isn't organ donation confidential? Therefore, we wouldn't know if any of these people got an organ from Steller, and even so, couldn't it be a freak medical thing?"

"That's what I thought initially, but I had a bad feeling about it, so I checked into it, and every one of them had the same blood type: A-positive. From there, I did more digging, and I was able to find records with UNOS that say Steller's organs went to these people," she told them.

Dean and Sammy exchanged a glance quickly. Whoever she was, she had her shit together and she made a convincing argument. "It's suspicious, yeah, and freaky, but there's still a possibility that it was some complication with the surgery," Dean insisted, which was the truth. In his time as a hunter, he had learned of many freak medical cases that had once been suspected as something supernatural. It wasn't always the case.

"Wrong," Polly said firmly. "Look at the cause of deaths." She waited as Dean looked down at the file, Sammy peering around his brother's arms to see as well. After they checked each autopsy report, they looked back at her, still confused. "Thomas Diern had a massive heart attack; the organ he received was Steller's heart. Sophia Busk got a kidney. Heather Richard, she got an artery that literally exploded inside of her. Whichever organ they had transplanted, that was the cause of death."

Sam and Dean looked at each other again. Because if they weren't convinced before, they sure as hell were now.

Hope you enjoyed! Please review, and I will continue to update within a few days.