Summary: More that two want this artefact. One is a soul mate. AU. Fifth in my 'Evil Is As Evil Does' sequence.
Evil Is a Cruel Parent by frostygossamer
PoV: Dean Winchester, son of John, protector of Sam, killer
I stepped out of the Impala onto the sidewalk of another small American town. Internet buzz had it that the infamous Ring of Hazard was last seen in the possession of the Civil War officer who had founded this town. Ownership of the ring granted supernormal luck at cards. The guy was a notorious gambler. The Captain's descendants were still in residence today.
Sam slurped out of the passenger door and brushed himself down, smoothing out his creases. What twisty quirk of fate, I wondered, had led to me sharing my life with that lanky, pouty column of crankiness? Oh yeah, I remembered, a long regretted moment of weakness.
The boy wasn't happy about being here. He thought we had better things to do than chase around after some talked-up bling that was probably an urban myth.
I laughed, 'urban myth', hell, that's what we do. It's our meat and drink. And it was this or Disneyworld... again.
We went into the nearest bar, always a good place to scare up a whisper. I ordered two beers and schmoozed the bartender. After a few general inquiries the guy started to be suspicious.
"You cops?", he asked.
I glanced at Sam. "You guessed it, pal", I replied.
"It's just... the rumours... 'bout the girls. I kinda thought someone would be on to it sometime."
"Girls?", I prodded him.
"Yeah", he went on. "Four, five, waitresses, pretty girls, walked out on the job in the last year. Hell, wages here ain't nothing special but that's kinda weird I think. I heard we're not the only place. There are rumours."
"Tell me about the rumours", I asked.
"Look, I moved here 'bout six months ago but there are rumours that this has been going on a while, years."
Outside I huddled with Sam. "We should look into this", he said.
"OK", I agreed. "But first we look for the ring. Then we chase the tail."
('o')
The Captain's address was on the north edge of town. We sat in the car till dark before approaching with intent to burglarize.
"Fuck!" There was a muffled crash and I turned my flashlight toward Sam to find him flat out on the ground.
"What in the hell are you freakin' doing down there?", I whispered.
"I tripped", he explained, standing up. "I caught my foot on some kinda trapdoor."
Sure enough there was a trapdoor flush with the ground. I lifted it up and shone my flashlight inside. And there they were. Three pretty little things, splattered with dirt, cringing and mewling in the corner of a sunken cage.
"Guess we found the missing chicks", I said.
PoV: Bela Talbot, dealer in magick 'objets', damned soul
The tall kid got a hacksaw from the car and they had us out in ten minutes.
"Are you police?", I asked, trying to sound like I still had a little sassiness left in me.
"Hell no, honey", the shorter one said. "But don't worry. We're the good guys. Come with us. We're gonna get you out of here."
"Oh, yes?", I asked. "And why should I believe you? How do I know you're not part of this?"
"We came to rescue you", he said. It sounded like a lie.
"Oh really? How did you know we were here?", I asked suspiciously. "I've been here three days and no one was going to miss me, and these girls have been here longer. Why were you here really? You came here to find it too, didn't you? The ring?"
"How do you know about the ring?", he asked.
"That's my business", I replied.
He motioned to the other one. "You take the girls to the car and I'll go get the ring."
"Oh no, you don't", I objected. "Who are you, exactly?"
He shone his light in my face and regarded me for a moment.
"Winchester", he said. "Dean Winchester. And the beanpole is Sam."
"Bela Talbot", I volunteered.
('o')
There was no problem breaking into the house. I had a key.
"There's supposed to be a statue of the Captain wearing the actual ring", I whispered.
"Yeah, yeah, we can all Google", Dean snarked.
Sweeping the living room with his flashlight, Dean almost walked into a life-size and disturbingly lifelike effigy of a Civil War Captain in full regalia.
"Whoa!", he exclaimed, almost dropping his light. "Here he is. And here's the ring right on his pinky. OK, we're outta here."
There was a shout, just as Dean stuffed the ring in his jacket pocket. "That came from outside", I said.
We ran out to find the owner of the house A.K.A. fiendish kidnapper with a knife to Sam's throat, he was a tall guy. My two fellow victims were just standing there screaming hysterically.
"Shoot him!", I shouted to Dean.
"And risk hitting my Sam? No way!", Dean responded training his weapon on the bastard nonetheless.
I surprised him by wresting the gun from his hand, and I got off a shot, clipping that bastard in the right leg. But then there was a scuffle, and somehow the bugger ended up using me as a shield instead.
"Now I don't suppose you meant that to happen", Dean quipped.
The psycho gave a nasty chuckle and twisted the knife against my skin, scoring my flesh slightly.
Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam. "You thinking what I'm thinking?", he asked.
"You're kidding", Sam gasped. "Come on. That's a movie, Dean."
"Hell, I've always wanted to try this", Dean insisted.
Now, at a dramatic moment like this, it's not going to work if your hero is a poor shot. Luckily Dean was pretty damn good. The bullet sailed right under me and hit its target right on the money. He dropped me and curled up on the ground in agony, howling with pain. Dean calmly walked over and put a second bullet in his brain.
"Thanks", I gasped, rubbing my neck.
PoV: Sam Winchester, lover of Dean, patricide, desperado
We piled into the Impala.
"That was one helluva shot", I exclaimed in admiration. Only Dean would have the cojones to pull off something like that.
"Nah", he replied. "It helps when you don't giveadamn about the hostage."
"Charming!", Bela protested from the back seat, where she sat comforting her two cage-mates.
Dean drove us all back into town and we dropped the girls near the Sheriff's Office.
I helped them outta the car. "I'll get these ladies home", Bela offered.
Then just before she turned to go, "Should I know you?", she asked.
"Do you have any hunter friends?", I responded.
"Not exactly", she replied. "You see I make my living selling artefacts. Hunters, they don't like that much."
"Yeah, well, my brother and me, we don't exactly get along with them either", I agreed.
"He's your brother? Winchester?", she pondered. "Oh, you're Righteous John's kids. I've heard rumours about you", she narrowed her eyes, "Don't they say you both have demon-tainted blood?"
"Sure, tainted", I confirmed. "But it doesn't make you a bad person", and I grinned.
Bela leaned into the car and whispered close to Dean's ear, "You boys killed your own daddy, right? I sympathize completely. They've got a special hell for that particular sin. I should know. We have a lot in common, patricide, incest."
That wasn't something I wanted to overhear.
Dean didn't like her bringing it up. "Not in front of the kid", he snapped.
"Just saying, when you get to hell I'll see you there", she whispered.
And, as she walked away, she recited:
"They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you."
I got back into the car. "You still got the ring?", I asked.
"Sure I have", Dean answered, patting his pocket. "Fuck!"
"Thought not", I remarked with a smirk.
The End
A/N: Disclaimer: The poem is 'This Be The Verse' by Philip Larkin, copyright belongs to the copyright holder.