And here we have chapter two. It's rated K+ and the standard disclaimers apply.

But just once I'd like to say I own Dean Winchester. ;)


Chapter Two: The Siren

In Greek mythology, Sirens were dangerous and devious creatures, portrayed as femmes fatales who lured sailors to their deaths with their enchanting voices.

"Dean, we've run into sirens before. Bronze knife dipped in the blood of the victim. Easy as pie."

"Mmm. Pie. I could really use some pie. I noticed a diner on the edge of town..."

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed a sigh, holding the knife out to his brother. "You can have your pie later. Right now we have a chance to go Michael Myers on that siren. Let's get to it."

Dean shrugged and took the knife from Sam, sliding it into a sheath beneath his arm. Sam grabbed the duffle bag and glanced around the motel room, checking to make sure they hadn't left anything behind. When Dean raised his eyebrows in question, Sam gave a single nod.

"We're good."

"Then let's kill this thing."


Unlike their last encounter with a siren, they didn't find themselves in a strip club studying the dancers. This time, they were hiking through the woods of northern Minnesota in November, hunting down the siren that was luring people to their deaths from atop a granite bluff overlooking Lake Superior. There were a few inches of heavy lake-effect snow on the ground and the forecast called for another ten to twelve inches that night. The wind picked up, whipping wet snow against their chests.

"She couldn't have chosen a place like Palm Beach?" Dean muttered, adjusting the collar of his jacket.

"I don't know, I've always wanted to see the North Shore," Sam said. "Remember one of Dad's last journal entries? He made the trek up here once after taking care of that wendigo when we were kids. He wrote about taking us camping up here."

Dean didn't say a word, the mention of Dad and their camping trips stirring up memories Sam obviously didn't have. Their camping trips had been no more than hunts in disguise, staying in tents instead of motel rooms, bathing in cold streams instead of taking hot showers. He could rough it like the next guy, but he hated sleeping in tents. His back was in terrible shape and sleeping on the ground left him sore for days.

They came to the end of a hiking trail that opened into an empty parking lot. The Split Rock lighthouse loomed ahead in the darkness, the large, crystal mechanism rotating at the top, spilling a beam of light out into Lake Superior. Dean glanced up, watching the light cut through the darkness, wishing like hell they weren't about to do this.

"Listen, Sam, if you don't want to do this, I can…"

"Just make sure you gank her before she walks me off the cliff." Sam turned around and looked at Dean. "Really, I can handle it."

Dean said nothing and retreated to the woods a few hundred yards away. As he crouched down and began arming himself, headlights flickered and a late model pickup truck drove into the parking lot. A tall brunette climbed out of the cab and grinned when she spotted Sam. Dean didn't miss the predatory look on her face before she slammed the door behind her, extinguishing the dome light in the cab.

He rifled through his bag, quickly locating the set of ear protectors he'd brought to block out the sound of her voice. Worn by baggage handlers at airports, they could block the sound of jet engine noise so he was fairly confident they would also block the song of this siren who was now only a few yards from Sam. Before she could start talking, Dean put the ear protectors on and instantly felt uneasy, having his sense of hearing completely taken away.

Sam watched as Fiona approached him, a sickly sweet smile on her face.

"Sam! I wasn't sure you'd come." She wrapped her hands around his, her long, cold fingers squeezing his firmly. His hands and wrists started tingling as she tightened her grip. He realized she marked her prey not with her voice, but with her touch. And she could turn it on and off at will. Before he realized how quickly he'd been affected and could pull his hands away, he heard himself speak.

"I had to see you again."

She let go of his hands, instead reaching up and caressing his cheek with her fingertips. Sam closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, forgetting about the cold, the steep drop onto the rocks behind him and that Dean watching from his post in the trees.

"You thought you had me all figured out," she said quietly, a touch of venom in her voice. "You come here, try and stop me from doing what I, what all of us do." Her voice hardened. "What gives you the right?"

Sam opened his eyes and looked down at her, puzzled at her tone. "I would never hurt you. I would do anything to protect you, to keep you safe."

She stepped back and walked to the fence, looking out into the darkness. "Even protect me from Dean?"

"My brother Dean? He wouldn't hurt you. Even if he wanted to, I wouldn't let him."

Her back still turned to him, she grinned wickedly. "That's what I like to hear. Now, I need you to do something for me."

Sam was instantly at her side. "Anything."

Her eyes darkened as she spoke.

"Jump."

Dean watched as Fiona and Sam stood at the fence. He'd been reading Sam's lips, following his half of the conversation. Sam was under her spell, as planned, and now was his chance to end it. He hadn't failed to notice how Sam responded when she touched him. His gut telling him he needed all five senses, he ditched the ear protectors and left his hiding place, stalking along the tree line. He had to close the nearly three hundred-yard gap quickly, before she convinced Sam to jump. When he saw Sam approach the fence and his lanky legs begin to climb over it, he took off sprinting toward them.

"SAM!"

Fiona turned and as he ran, Dean saw the absolute fury in her eyes at his interruption. He felt a sense of satisfaction in pissing her off. Sam didn't move and remained at his perch, sitting on the edge of the fence, poised to jump into the darkness below.

"Sam, darling, do as you're told," Fiona said quickly, knowing she didn't have much time left.

"Sam, don't. At least, not until I get something from you first."

Sam startled and turned toward Dean, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead. Fiona looked at Sam, then back at Dean.

"You aren't going to stop him?"

"Nah," Dean said. "I don't think I could- he's got a few inches and about twenty-five pounds on me." He drew the bronze blade from its sheath and whispered an apology to Sam as he grabbed his sleeve and wrenched it up, slashing the blade against his forearm. Sam winced and pulled away, confused. "But I can stop you."

Dean turned and lunged at Fiona, who barely managed to avoid the blade. She shot a panicked look toward Sam, who was watching the scene unfold with blood running down his arm.

"Jump, Sam. Do it for me."

Dean spared a look behind him to check on Sam, who was leaning forward and preparing to let himself fall.

"This happened to us once, it is not happening again," Dean muttered. He rushed at Fiona, tackling her around the waist and pinning her to the ground. Her long legs thrashed wildly as she tried to hold the knife in Dean's hands away from her chest. He pushed harder, the tip of the knife piercing the skin on her chest.

"Fiona!"

She stopped struggling long enough to look over at Sam and Dean took the opportunity and wrenched the knife down and into her chest. Her mournful scream pierced the cold night air and he fell back, clutching at his ears. Her scream died as she did and Dean scrambled to his feet, turning back toward Sam. He was on his hands and knees in the snow, head hanging low and breathing heavily.

"Sammy?" Dean staggered toward his brother, his lungs protesting the exertion in the cold air with a hacking cough.

"I'm good." He rocked back on his heels and slowly stood up, noticing the gash on his arm. He winced and flexed his hand, trying to determine if Dean had nicked any muscle. "Did you have to cut so deeply?"

"Don't be such a baby. You'll barely have a scar by the time I finish stitching you up," Dean replied, handing Sam his jacket. Sam craned his neck to find Fiona, but all he saw was dirty, grey snow next to Dean.

Sam bit the inside of his cheek and turned away from Dean, looking out at the lake. He remembered almost letting go of the fence before Dean finished the job and even for a few seconds after he could still hear Fiona. But after she was gone, he still heard someone in his head, the mocking voice telling him to jump because Sam would never be able to get away from him or block him out.

"Sam?"

He blinked several times and turned around, his back once again to the lake. "Yeah?"

"You coming? It's too damn cold out here to gawk at a lake you can't see."

"Right." Sam took the bandage his brother held out to him and covered the wound on his arm, pressing down much harder than necessary in an attempt to drown out the voice as they walked back to the car.

See you soon, Sam. I hear Detroit is lovely this time of year.