Chapter 2: Don't Kill the Messenger Dean Winchester
Author: MishaV946 / 946MishaV
Rating: I am rating this K for future reference…
Spoilers: Way after FN and Up to season 8 in Supernatural.
Disclaimer: All characters belong their respectful owners. I make no profit out of pure joy, so suing me will get you nowhere.
Status: WIP
A/N: So I know its been awhile since my last update, truth is I had some challenges writing this chapter. I have read a few other crossover stories to gain a bit of perspective on how the stories were constructed. Great stores out there though. However, I wanted to approach this story in a different scenario, so, to also compensate my absence I wrote this rather lengthy chapter with a few added redundant details from both the series. Just to help with the foundation of the story.
A/N: I tried really hard to keep the characters in character, but some parts may vary for good reasons. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed the challenge of writing it :)
"I once heard about a painting called the Heads Severed by the artist, Gericault. The Heads Severed brought attention towards the successful application that went far beyond the appropriate colourization and texture making this one of the many ominous paintings of its time. The mood of the painting focused on the emotional vexation that rippled through the stark brown brushstrokes bleeding into the odd sepia hue. This approach is one of the main companions to the visually unsympathetic story of the two severed heads. And yet, here I am pondering on this useless piece of art along with the unsettling knowledge of never knowing how these two souls ended in a brutally grotesque death, instead of calculating my escape route. Yes, I know, but how I think about that painting and only wish that my reality was just another ominous piece of artwork…"
The cold damp tingling caress on her left arm brought her back into consciousness. The fervid stench of sterilization swarmed through her system, bubbling an escaped reflex groan through her dry lips. Her eyes fluttered open, blinking several times in a failed attempt to rid away the dry grit. With a hazy focus, she took note of the fluorescent tube light dangling above her feet. But the steady breathing on her right caught her attention. The distorted figure positioned near her right arm looked somewhat like a man. Fluttering her eyes more, her focused regained 100 percent and there was that familiar hazel green eyes. Eyes that exposed a bit of confusion and an anger so fierce she could not understand why; but nonetheless there he was, alive and breathing.
"Alec? You're alive." She gasped, her broad smile cracking her dry lips further. But her excitement was short lived. The normally mischievous glint in those eyes was no longer evident. It was not the pair of eyes that she was used to seeing, not from Alec or from her late brother Ben. "Who. Are. You?" she demanded.
"My name is Dean Winchester and this is my brother Sam." Dean indicated towards his brother with a curt nod.
"Not that I am delighted for the family introduction, but what are you doing in my room? Is it dinner time already?" The tone of her cynicism married her warning expression.
Dean's nostrils flared with impatience, "You were too banged up to remember. But Sam I brought you here ten days ago."
'Ten days?' her mind reeled in panic. "If you are expecting any kind of gratification, forget it!" Barricading away the tremulous feeling as much as possible, she snapped at him but the superficial questions remained clogged up in her throat.
Dean leaned back into the chair. His chest stood proud as he straightened his shoulders in an impossibly tight line. He passed a look towards Sam before glowering back at the girl. "Where are you from?" he commanded authoritatively. Ignoring her cynicism.
"My mom told me never to talk to strangers." She sassed with a smug smile.
'.Feeling infelicitous when the girl barely budged from his murderous look, he audibly took a deep breath and he bit his inner cheek, 'I will not kill her.' His patience was wearing thin and fast…he needed to punch something and if nothing distracted him from that he would be granting his own wish soon. "I'll ask again, where are you from?" the seriousness in his tone was unmistakably deadly.
Max remained indifferent. Dean unlocked and clipped his caliber.
Bearing an unremarkable tranquil composure, she challenged Dean with an arched eyebrow. "A place where the Space Needle is stationed."
Dean flexed his lower jaw. The enigmatic look in his eyes made Max a little timorous but not enough to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. His grip audibly tightened around his caliber as he inclined his head. Arrogant, authoritative and insidious.
"Seattle, ground Zero." Sam muttered in apprehension.
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Max's expression contorted in petulance. Her eyes hovering between the two brothers.
"Who sent you here?" Dean pursued further, rising from her seat almost towering over her.
Silence…
Feelings of elusiveness were immediately strewn out the window the minute Dean reached over and squeezed Max's throat in his rough callous palm. "I asked you a question bitch! Who sent you here?" he was close to her proximity that Max could count the faint freckles on his cheeks.
"Screw you asshole!" she hissed. Butting his head with hers.
Awestruck from the instant shooting pain, Dean staggered back. His gun slipped from his right hand crashing onto the floor away from his reach. Attentively, he blindly reached his bloodied nose with his right hand. Cursing in every possible language he knew. Sam who remained immobilized stood with wide astounded eyes witnessing the scene play out in front of him. He spun back to Max, his left hand reaching for his own gun. But Max was way too quick. Using extreme vigor she tugged hard on the shackle, breaking the metal link free from the restraining bar on the gurney. With her now free hand, she swiftly punched Sam underside his jaw. Grunting slightly, his eye rolled back from the pain and fell into an unconscious heap beside her bed. Dean's eyes widened, jerking back in astonishment all the while watching his younger brother drop like a sack of potatoes. He snapped his jaw shut, revolving his deadly expression towards the girl.
"YOU BITCH!" he reached for his sawed off double barrel shot gun from the foot of the bed. Aiming the armed and ready weapon towards her head.
"What did you just call me?"
"I said, 'You Bitch!'" Dean repeated with emphasis on the word bitch. He proceeded forward towards the foot of the bed, his knee mere millimeters away from the leg of the gurney. Just where Max wanted him.
Her smirk sent an uncomfortable tingle down his spine.
"What?" his brows furrowed in bewilderment.
"Good night." She cooed. Blurring her feet in a vigorous tug, shattering both the metal links from her ankle shackles. Just as swiftly as Sam's punch, Max kicked Dean in the gut. He hunched forward from the impact enough for Max to crisscross her thighs around his neck in a chock hold. Pain instantly forgotten, Dean reached out to her linen clad thighs. Try as he could, his fingers kept slipping and sliding on the fabric. Unable to grasp onto her pants, his eyes rolled back. A triumphant smile crossed her features. His arms soon after fell in a useless limp beside him.
Releasing him from her deadly clutched thighs, his chin hit the edge of bed barbarously then flaccidly sank onto the floor. Max scanned for her boots while she blindly removed the rest of the restraints that dangled from her wrists and ankles. Gladly finding them provisioned onto an open shelf in the corner of the room she sprinted out of the bed and slipped on her shoes. Fastening the shoelace in her haste to escape, she paused for a moment. Diverting her attention to an unconscious Dean, .she tip toed towards him and crouched to roll him over, No barcode. Her heart began to pound.
A tingling spark erupted from the core of her gut spiraling all over her body when a set of booted footsteps emanated from down the hallway. Lying low as possible, she made her way towards the door frame. Resting her back onto the short wall between the door frame and the covered window, her ears perked on the movement. She stretched over her head to flip the light switch off. The door clicked open. A young man's voice sounded through the silent dark room.
"Hello?"
Max dramatically rolled her eyes, 'rookie' she thought.
The barrel end of the assault rifle pierced its way through the dark room, enough for Max's advantage. In a blur she grabbed the end of the gun pulling the man along with it. He barely reacted when Max elbowed the side of his head. Dragging his motionless form from the doorway further into the room, she stripped him off his leather jacket; grabbing his walkie-talkie; a set of car keys; his pocket knife and pack of apple flavoured gum. Pocketing all the essentials into the leather jacket, she reached over for the last item. Securely placing the young man's cap over her head, she peeked out the ajar door.
With great gratification on her quick recon, she made a quick instinctual decision and proceeded to the right. Agilely jogging through the creepily quiet corridor, Max's lips twitched upwards in a small smile. Although not completely out of the woods yet, the reception area was a triumphant sight that laid before her eyes.
Avoiding any attention she strolled camly towards the open area. Her senses felt like they were on overdrive. Mixed emotions of hope, fear and rage coursed through her. Not quite understanding why she felt so angry, she continued her task at hand ignoring the unwanted emotions. A piercing crackle interspersed through the area. The warning bells were sound. Aware of her escape, she blurred towards the entrance of the hospital crashing her way out through the single glass door. For a mere millisecond she squinted from the sudden beam of light, but thanks to her Manticore given eyes, her pupils immediately adjusted to the uncharacteristically bright day light.
She was free from the sterilization that reminded her of her past along with the current men and women in white lab coats.
Sprinting down the small concrete stretch, she braced her posture and leaped over the stainless steel balustrade. Landing perfectly on both feet from the third level. She scanned the area from left to right, scrutinizing her surroundings. Not a soul to be seen.
An aggressive rumble above her captured her attention. The cloudy sky looked threatening and she knew that she had to find shelter and soon.
Articulating her attention to the route ahead, she sprinted down the service downward ramp. Her ears perked up on the besieging voices. Voices that did not emanate from the walkie-talkie. Feeling diffident, she slackened her pace in her best ability to locate the origin of the voices. But the faceless voices grew louder and louder. Still, not a soul could be seen.
Refocusing on the ramp ahead, her heart palpitated in furious beats. A gust of black smoke ferociously torpedoed its way towards her. Max abruptly halted at the edge of the downward ramp. Her booted feet close to the tarred surface of the road. Revolving to make a quick retreat into the building, she staggered slightly. The ghastly smoke enveloped all possible escape routes. The voices grew angrier catching her timid stature. Her arms instantly shielded her face as the clouds roared its way around her with immense speed. She finally found her voice.
But it was too late.
"Like I said, if only this reality was just another ominous piece of artwork…"
12 hours earlier…
"Dean say something." Sam begged with urgency.
Silence…
"Dean!" he yelled.
"What? What do you want me to say?" Dean questioned darkly.
"At least be a little curious as to why I was in the warehouse in the first place."
"Are you high Sam? Be a little curious? Are you kidding me?" Dean questioned relentlessly in bewilderment.
"I don't know how many times I have to explain it to you that I had it under control." Sam argued.
"Oh that's prefect Sam. Yeah just sit the bitch down, have coffee, ask a few questions and everything would be hunk-dory." Dean retorted sarcastically in a southern accent. His expression turned bitter, "I can't believe I just said that."
Sam shook his head in the failed attempt to relieve himself of Dean's choice of words, "Yeah you and me both. Dean, she had…" Sam began with a desperate attempt to explain himself.
"Come on Sam! You're smarter than this. You know the freakin' rules. NO one goes on a solo mission during the day let alone at night no matter the cause. Unless you have a suicidal tendency…which I know you don't have one. Besides you are just a lone gunman on a half ass mission without your special abilities since they are no longer special or abilities. You lost that mojo three years ago. So what do you think would've happened if that bitch got loose and smite your ass to thy kingdom come?" he rambled.
"Dean…"
"I'll tell you what would've happened. I would've ended up pitch forking your remains, driving back home and giving Amelie one heck of an explanation as to why I wasn't there to back up Wolverine!" Dean yelled, interrupting Sam each time.
"Are you done?" Sam asked briskly.
A glare…
"Because I would like to explain my side now."
"Jesus Sam. We had this conversation before. We CAN NOT trust what comes out of that pie hole of theirs!"
"She wasn't a demon!" Sam retaliated, feeling frustrated and agitated.
"So what? She was an angel with God knows up her sleeve. They are desperate Sam and they will do just about anything to skin us alive. It doesn't matter if they are demons or angels; they are all the same with one mission on mind, Human Annihilation. We, humans are just the middle chew toy to them. The middle play things that they want to throw out of the cot." Dean gestured between them.
"I know. But Dean she looked agitated from something. In fact she looked down right scared." Sam snapped.
Dean looked at Sam, he raised his eyebrows," you know that she was probably just ganking your chains, right?"
"Whatever it is, she looked scared." Sam looked through the window with dismay.
Dean took a rational moment, considering the possibilities, "Sacred from what?"
"She said something about big plans to end it all. Dean I don't think she was lying." Sam glanced at his brother, waiting for the inevitable reaction.
But that didn't happen.
"Is this what I think it is?" he questioned attentively.
Baffled beyond words, Sam willing let that reaction slide. "Pretty much."
"Please don't tell me that we have to go through another season of survivor…" he threaded, already dreading the answer.
"Sorry to burst your happy bubbles, but yes."
"Great! Did she say anything else?"
"You mean before you decorated the place with her singed wings? No." Sam implored while he opened a large colour printed map exploring the contents. "But that hunter from Dakota, reported about a chewed off human leg. He gave Samandriel the coordinates…" Sam paused, his expression instantly turned from nonchalant to full blown surprise, "route 60." He completed. His mouth going dry.
Dean let out a heavy sigh. His already throbbing head begun to spin, 'can't we just catch a freakin' break?' he thought miserably. "Route 60? Isn't that the route where we found the girl laying in the middle of the freakin road before I almost turned her into a human mince pie?"
"Yip." Sam simply replied.
Exhibiting an expressionless composure, Dean curled his long fingers further around the steering wheel, ignoring the jabbing pain coursing from his already bruised knuckles. "We're going to see the girl." He announced frostily. The tyres squelched as Dean made a sharp unexpected U turn. With sheer reflex, Sam grabbed onto left corner of the passenger seat, his other hand reached for the door's arm rest. The abandoned map flew backwards, mercifully hugging Sam's chest.
Now fully irritated, Sam threw and annoyed glare at Dean. His right hand automatically peeling the map away from him. "What are you going to do to her?"
Dean's forehead creased slightly, his migraine reaching at an explosive level. "I don't know," he replied truthfully, "there are a pile of questions and no shovel."
"Should we, like ask her for her help? Sam threaded gingerly.
"Well Mar…MOM has the kind of hardware that we don't."
Sam silently looked at the map. When no reply made his way, Dean glanced at Sam in time to catch his younger brother's expression.
"What are you grinning at?"
"Nothing." Sam cleared his face off all expressions, feigning innocent.
Dean knew his brother wouldn't let him live this one down, "She warned me if I called her by her name she would cut my balls off with a butter knife."
"Awe you poor thing…" Sam mocked.
"Sammy. If I wasn't driving 70 miles an hour and needing both my hands on the wheel I would turn around and square you in the jaw." He warned.
Un-phased, Sam chuckled, "Go ahead honey." Sam provoked with a humorous sweet tone.
"Max!"
"Wake up!" his voice sounding distant yet troubled. His arms reaching out, 'why can't I catch it? No Don't!'
"Please wake up!" his voice obscured, urgent and almost haunted. His eyes wide with anxiety. The shadows creeping up behind him…
'NO! DON'T! Why can't they hear me? Take my hand, TAKE IT!'
"I need your help Maxie!" his scream diffident, static too.
'NOOOO!'
His arms failing about as he was dragged further into the darkness.
"HELP ME!" his urgent scream lost just like the darkness.
With consternation her eyes snapped open. The familiar voice continued to haunt her endlessly. Jerking forward, she tried to sit up but the restraints too tight to allow her freedom of movement. Gasping in distress, Max surveyed the room in a feverish pace. Exhaling a deep sigh of relief. She mentally ticked off the following on her check list:
The same mundane beeping tone of the ECG monitor, check; the same torn down olive green wall paper with jagged cut out cardboard covered windows, check; the same oddly cyan luminescent painted patterns glowing from the walls, check; the same lonely dim fluorescent tube light dangling above her feet struggling to keep the confine room lit, check…yes nothing had changed.
Everything was unfamiliar yet everything was still the same.
Letting out a deep afflicted sigh, she laid back onto her cold soaked pillow. Her pale skin shimmered from the various dull light sources that bounced around the room.
Her toes and fingers suffered from the agonizing beats of her convulsing heart. Her ears throbbed away onto deafness. She knew that if she didn't calm down soon enough, she would definitely become the ultimate prize winning lab rat.
All logical thoughts pointed in the same direction, she was in a hospital of some sorts. And judging from the announcements in the hallway beyond that closed door, she was knee deep in the lion's den. Every instinct within her screamed 'enemy territory', 'escape', but that tiny voice at the back of her mind yelled above all logic and instinct. She had to wait. For whatever reason she could not escape, not just yet.
The voice of reasoning didn't help much though; her heart was sinking with slow excruciating throbs. She needed a distraction and soon. Focusing all senses on the faint buzz from the tube light, she managed to successfully tranquil her mind and body. She was all alone, trapped with the unknown certainty to her safety and his.
"Alec." She chocked.
The buzzing sound pitched further each time by two octaves, consuming her thoughts and fears into nothing but a defeated slumber. Her chest heaved and settled in synchronization to the IV drops.
And there he was, in her arms. His eyes closed. Blood trickling down the corner of his lips.
In her restless slumber, her head trashed from side to side with quick urgent breaths. The bedding soaked all the way through from her anxious perspiration.
It wasn't too long ago when the fight for survival began…
It wasn't too long ago when a hand grenade sent her and a few others half way across the mass hall of Terminal City.
Some occupants in pieces, few intact.
"NO LOGAN DON'T!" her rasped whimpers traveled across the room.
The double swing doors exploded wide open, tragically cracking the plastered wall from the impact of the stainless steel door handle. Two sets of booted brothers crossed the threshold making their way to the reception area. Or lack thereof.
The reception area was one of the many parts of the hospital that suffered but partially survived the wrath of unfairness. In his line of sight, Dean reconciled on the surviving reception desk. After all, he was the one who aided in the cleanup of the residential area. The famous desk that was once used as a shield now used for its original purpose. Still, chunks of super wood blown away by bullets; some fragments remained in the relief of the woodwork. A lot of history could be told from that.
Aside from the reception desk, not many areas of the hospital received the same mercy.
Passing the nurse a curt nod, Dean rested his gaze to the eerily abandoned waiting area. It was the most boring wallpapered clad room that bustled mercilessly with people but now it sat alone- a tomb with nothing else but the reminisce of that day. The severity in which people's lives were taken still bared evidence in the reception area. Silhouettes of people's running motion glued onto the wall in a thick sticky layer of dust and soot. A somber 'reminder' of sorts.
Dean scrutinized every detail of the area, again. The white screed floor no longer had the same reflective quality as it used to, just grime and dirt embedded in the chips and surface of the skirting throughout the floor level. Nailed pieces of wooden boards covered the windows, concealing the non-removable stains of mixed blood and ash. The red joint commercial plastic seats had mostly melted away into molten lava that had rapidly cooled down in a sea like formation half way across the floor, while some seats remained intact with ash and dust matching the rest of the room. This was a representation of what they had lost, accomplished and still fight for.
"Thank you." He heard faintly behind him. Sam who had taken over the conversation with the nurse.
His mind wondering about but his feet in automation took him further into the hospital's west wing.
'I can't recall when was the last time I've seen patience in these rooms let alone in the reception area. Not since…'
"Dude!" Sam's harsh tone broke him away from his reverie.
"What?" Dean scowled irritably.
"The nurse over there smiled at you and you just dismissed her?"
"Yeah so?" his eyes scanning the area out of habit.
"Dean," Sam started hesitantly, "I know that you don't really like to talk about it but I's been like three years and that girl reminds you…"
With a look of hostility, Dean grappled Sam by his shirt collar. "If you know what's best for you, Sammy. You won't complete that sentence." He warned through clenched teeth.
"Boys?" the sound of a familiar voice echoed in their bristle stated minds. Shifting away from one another, neither of them glanced at the figure, "What's going on?" the question was asked.
"Nothing," Dean rubbed his eye, "What's…the hell happened to you?" Dean questioned as he advanced towards the middle aged lady standing before them. He lifted MOM's precast hand in his calloused palm, examining the cast.
"It's no big deal." She replied softly, almost haunted at the memory.
"This is no big deal?" Dean exasperated, raising both eyebrows in disbelief, "Who did this to you?" his tone dropped an octave or two, steering an uneasiness in both Sam and MOM.
"You're Jane Doe woke up…"
"That bitch!" he graved, letting go off MOM's hand and motioned towards the recovery area. He barely made the second step forward when he was forcibly halted in his tracks.
"Her name is Max and she has been through one heck of an ordeal. Judging from her wounds that she had, it was no picnic ones either. She looked like she had been through war."
"Looked?" Sam queried.
"Yeah wait till you see her. It's as if she had never sustained such injuries as when you two brought her in."
Sam took note of MOM's appearance. The wrinkles on her forehead creased in worry; her usually untanned skin- paler contrasting perfectly to the dark circles under her eyes and he swore he could see her pulsating heartbeat vibrating through the popping vein on her neck. Something to which he hasn't seen in a long, long time.
"You look like death's been eating at you." Sam threaded quietly.
"When we cracked her open to cauterize her vein from bleeding further, we found that her entire physic was just…different," she explained with great difficulty. "All I can tell you boys is that Max, she a whole something else."
"What's that supposed to mean?" The brothers queried in confusion.
"We didn't have to cauterize her wound; she was already healing at an exponential rate. It's nothing like I've ever seen before other than in…"
"Leviathans?" Sam noted.
"Yeah, but we know that ain't possible." MOM stated.
"So what is she like an alien?" Dean furrowed.
"Dude sometimes I wonder if we are even brothers." Sam scowled.
Dean threw him a dirty look.
"Enough. Dean she's no Sigourney Weaver. And we definitely know that it's not Gabriel coz his brother flashed his existence with a one way ticket to Heaven a long time ago as you both witnessed in that creepy motel. No this girl, she isn't normal like you and I. Her physique points out to the human side but other aspects don't. I mean I heard of geneticist theorizing the fundamental effects of regenerative molecular cells in a human body. But those just remained as theories. No one and I mean no one has ever moved forward with that theory, not without the hardware or knowledge."
Dean worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "Demon doing?"
"What? Demon geneticist?" MOM looked at him dryly.
"Hey don't you remember Lucy the barbwire girl. That chick was cooked up with crazy and just plain…scary." Dean explained awkwardly.
Sam scowled at Dean.
"Dean that girl; Lucy already had telekinetic abilities. Her barbwire fascination on the other hand was brought on by her demonic side. You should know that since you toasted her ass back to hell. Besides, I highly find there to be any similarities to this. This is different. I can't quite put my finger on it. Max exhibited these tattoos as I am pretty sure you are aware of. The thing is her tattoos kept changing on her skin than just disappeared before our very eyes."
"What do you mean had those tattoos? She was practically brick walled with them." Sam asked.
"Yes well all I can provide you with is that, it was there one minute and gone the next. It crept the rest of the staff off as you can imagine."
"Call me slow, but I'm off the wagon on this one." Dean blurted out.
"Like when are you never?" Sam mumbled.
Dean glared at his taller brother. Sam shrugged. The challenge was on.
"There's no time for squabbling you two. This whole thing isn't sitting well with me. No demon or witches or leviathans can roam within these walls."
"And angels included." Sam added softly. Everyone turned towards Sam.
With determination, Dean pursed his lips in a tight line. "Alright, interrogation it is."
"Yip." MOM agreed.
"Is she still awake?" Sam asked.
"She's been in and out of it for the past five days. We had to strap her down in recovery with an added security guard on standby."
"What room are we looking for?" Dean asked bitterly.
"Recovery room B 15." MOM shook her head as Dean silently walked in the opposite direction. Grabbing hold of Sam's arm, she sternly looked up at him, "make sure he doesn't kill her before I get the blood results later today. Sam, something's going on and I don't have a good feeling about this."
"I'll make sure." Sam placed his hand over hers with a reassuring squeeze.
Recovery Ward…
He entered the recovery ward with missionary strides. The sound of his booted feet gave way to his current destructive mood. Sam who followed his senior brother kept a safe distance between them for he knew his brother was about to blow a figurative fuse once he crossed paths with the girl, Max. They were more than prepared to conduct several interrogation sessions, but Sam felt that something was definitely off. Who was this girl who survived a horrific ordeal found in the middle of the freeway; unprotected; unarmed; beaten into a pulp and yet, still survived.
But first thing was first…he had to straighten things out with Dean.
"Dean hold up," Sam called out, catching up with this brother," listen about earlier…"
"What? You want to bring this up now?" Dean asked with incredulity, a slight squeakiness to his tone.
Sam frowned for the fifth time of the day.
"What?" Dean queried irritably,
"I think you've watched too much Dr. Sexy in the time of TV era."
A dirty look…
"Fine. But before we go in there, just don't shoot her first than ask questions. I know you are going through some stuff and that girl Max reminds you of her." Sam explained somberly.
"Really Sam. Talk about perfect timing. I tell you what." Dean licked the corner of his lips, wiping his mouth with his right hand, barring his teeth, "After we interrogate the girl how about you and I have a beer, talk about my feelings than we talk about your feelings. Have a real heart to heart moment and then we have both each others shoulders to cry on?" he suggested sarcastically with raised eyebrows.
With a defeated sigh and resigned look, "You're a real ass you know that?"
"Chick," Dean muttered without bitterness.
"Bitch," Sam retaliated smugly. Sam preceded towards room B 15's door but was stopped short when Dean called out his name.
"Sammy. I know it has been three years. Believe me when I say…I can't forget. But I'm not good with talking about my feelings…"
Sam hummed, "I guess talking about our feelings has never really been our thing to begin with."
"You're telling me brother. So how about we get this bitch done and over with?" clapping his hands together.
"Just don't kill her yet." He reminded his brother.
"Geez Sam. What a party pooper!" Dean complained subtly as he bypassed a shell shocked Sam and entered the room.
'Party pooper?' Sam mouthed behind Dean's back with a petulant expression.
They entered the room with an expected notion that the girl would be awake; retaliating or offering some kind of deal. But as soon as Sam walked into the room, eyes set on the door handle as he shut the door behind him and turned a complete one eighty degree into Dean's back. He snapped his lips shut, almost cursed his brother until he followed Dean's line of sight.
They weren't prepared for this.
The brunette's head trashed from side to side, whimpers escaping her dried cracked lips. Tears streamed down her face twinkling in the dim light. Her wrists bruising further each time she struggled against the tight fabricated restraints. The blanket abandoned unceremoniously on the floor, her knees barely bending from her prevented kicks. Sam glanced at Dean who stood still in his tracks, unsure of what he should do next.
"Should we wake her?" Sam gingerly suggested.
"Yeah." Dean rasped with something that Sam couldn't recognize.
Sam walked to the right end of the bed where a bowl of water and face cloth was placed on a surgical table. Probably for her bath time, he thought. Dean, who strode towards the chair on the left, dragged the wooden furniture noisily across the room before descending on the hard wooden seat. He propped up his shot gun against the corner of the gurney. He leaned forward, his face almost near hers.
"WAKE UP!" Dean bawled.
"Dean!" Sam exclaimed with a harsh whisper.
"What?" Irritated, he glanced to Sam and back at the girl, "See it's not even working." He reasoned unsuccessfully.
"Hold on Dean." Sam motioned for Dean to halt in his steps before he made a move to stand. Sam turned towards the surgical table, unwrapped the face towel and dipped it into the prepared cold water. Squeezing the access water back into the bowl, Sam turned back to the girl.
"Seriously Sam. Copping a feel? What would poor Amelia say to that?"
"Shut up." He bellowed tersely, "You tried it your way. It didn't work. She's in deep sleep and won't wake up with just a scream in her ear that will blow her ear drum off." Sam explained in an abrupt tone which caused an eye roll in his direction.
"For all we know she could be a demon prodigy." Dean gestured towards the restless slumbering brunette.
"I don't think so." Sam ignored Dean and continued the task at hand. Wary, Sam attentively lifted Max's left arm and stroked the cold damp towel in a downward motion. Instantly her frazzled state began to calm.
'Alec, you're alive…'
'I'm right her Max. I ain't going anywhere.'
Her senses kicked her out of her subconscious state. With foggy eyes she turned to her right. The meek but distinguishable silhouette with short hair sat beside her. Fluttering her eyes in the effort to rid away the grit, she relaxed. There he was, sitting beside her.
"Alec, you're alive." Max rasped, lips cracking into a broad smile.
Currently…
Unlike the grueling sound, the force of the black smoke tossed her backwards. Landing hard on her sore hand. Grunting from the excruciating pain, she whipped her head to a female's emanating commands on her left. Squinting from the burning sensation that clouded her vision, she noted the faint but familiar dark legged denim jean clad figure standing beside her. A shot gun in his right hand, he pointed towards the clouds.
Each gun's rippling sound was effortlessly swallowed by the howling sounds of the dark clouds. Sparks of fiery veins illuminated its way through the smoke. The surge of energy threw Max back slightly. Sam, who had been standing not too far back, pointed his gun perpendicular to Dean's posture. Max crawled closer to Dean. Not even in her own military trained brain could she phantom on the endless hovering dark parade of intertwining clouds. The rumbling sound pitched, higher and higher. In her perplexed state of mind she absentmindedly solicited for cover.
Staggering slightly, he glanced down to where the obstruction bounded him to one spot. Taken aback when he caught sight of Max clinging onto his right leg with dear life. She buried her face between the back of his knee and her left arm. Ignoring her, he continued to shoot more rounds into the clouds until they had dissipated long enough for their retreat back into the building. Panting as if he ran miles, he glimpsed at Sam then pursed his lips in a thin line. The girl who still clung onto his right leg remained the same as few seconds prior. Switching the shot gun from his right hand to his left, he bent down and pried the girl away from him.
"HEY!" he scolded, bruising her shoulder in his vice clutches. "You put my brother in danger again, I'll kill you. You do that again, I'll kill you." Dean's blood dried nostrils flared. Max swore she could feel the heat radiating from him like a burning furnace.
"What the hell was that?" she squeaked, backing away from Dean on her haunches.
"The end!" Dean grunted.
Max barely had time to register the recent events let alone use one defensive technique, butt end of the gun that connected to the side of her head. The force so large tore her skin slightly. Her face hit the ground once more, unconscious.
"Dean. What the hell man!" Sam demanded, incredulous.
"What?" Dean snapped, his expression contorting with bitterness.
"Was that absolutely necessary?"
"Yes. And it was exhilarating." Dean replied with aggravation. Resting his shot gun on his shoulder, he retreated back into the hospital.
"Sam we need to go!" MOM commanded.
No reaction…
"Sam?"
"It's nothing." With great difficulty Sam lifted an unconscious dead weight Max into his arms. The other five hunters consisting of men and women stood their ground, hosing the clouds with holly water blended with salt; oil and tiny pieces of silver like pallets. Once Sam was within the safe zone of the hospital, the rest followed suit. Each one backing up the other.
"We'll be in the interrogation room." Dean announced.
Basement level, aka Interrogation Room…
The room was barely alive. In fact it stank of death all round. Dark armpits shaded most parts of the room. Combinations of oil, dirt, blood and grime rained down the walls and parts of the floor. The room echoed its' lifeless silence, a contradiction to what it once stood for- a laundry room.
As gracefully as possible, Sam attentively placed the girl onto the floor bolted steel chair. A protesting grunt vibrated from her throat alerting both the brothers.
"Hurry up Sam, I don't want to be this bitch's punching bag once more."
Max's eyes snapped open. She flashed a vengeful look towards Dean. Dean staggered back slightly but recovered quickly. With a smooth reflex motion he pulled out his caliber from the waist band of his jeans. This time he stood at a reasonably safe distance.
"Move and you will find yourself shadowing the afterlife." Dean warned.
Obliged, Max flared a heated look towards Dean and with an unwavering glare she raised both her arms on the armrests of the chair. Sam restraint the girl in a hastened pace. Double checking that the girl was bound securely, Dean crouched in front of her. In his midst, he vigorously tugged the restraint shackled to her left leg.
Sam, who had been standing behind Dean, tilted his head to one side. His brows furrowed in bewilderment. Unaware to his brother's knowledge, Max stared at Dean's short hair with a remorseful expression.
But that was short lived.
Max's sixth sense kicked in. someone was watching her. Her line of sight changed immediately as did her expression. The hardened glare was back on her face. Dean glimpsed her way at that precise moment. Flexing his jaw in annoyance.
"If glares to incarnate people were a competition, you'd be the first prize winner." Dean growled bitterly.
"Whatever you got to tell yourself. You can never live down the fact that a woman kicked your ass. And you can bet your euros that I can do that again in a heartbeat." Max snapped flippantly, her eyes narrowing.
Pursing his lips, he hauled the restraint violently. Perturbed more than ever as said Max barely flinched.
Sam grinned inwardly. Despite having his own ass handed to him by this ferocious woman, he kind of liked her.
"What level are you?" Dean demanded.
"In kicking your ass? Prize winning black belt." Max smirked, enjoying the temper tick on Dean's face.
Patience wearing thin he flared his nostrils. Imminently he approached her, composing himself as he rolled his sleeves all the way up to his elbows. Leaning forward he gripped her arms beneath his calloused hands forcibly constraining them into the arm rests. "I asked you a question. What level are you demon?"
"If I am whatever you believe me to be, what makes you think I will drop a dime to tell you? Besides, your interrogation skills are lacking." she sneered.
"Oh really." Dean retorted. Standing upright, he reached for his back pocket uncapping a stainless steel canister and gushed the contents onto her.
Sputtering the water out of her mouth, unimpressed she glowered at him under hooded eyes. "Really? Interrogating me by messing up my hair do with water? What is wrong with you?"
Collecting himself, Dean remained mute. He reached for the canister on the surgical table. Cupped a handful of white crystal like stones. A tinge of satisfaction passed through him when he glimpsed at her perplexed appearance. But the one percent of doubt that weaved its way from his core was shoved down just as quickly as it started.
Without a word he hauled her hair backwards in a tight vice, shoving the white crystals into her grunting mouth. With a mischievous smirk, Max spat the saliva coated crystals onto the owner's face. Standing tall with closed eyes and pressed lips, Dean reached into his left-back jeans pocket and pulled out his grey handkerchief.
"Interesting interrogation tactics. Stuffing me with salt for what, Thanks Giving Human pork rinds?" she jeered unwittingly.
Observing this rather interesting conversation between Dean and Max, Sam could no long hide his smirk. This girl had guts.
"I don't know what kind of interrogation tactics these are but I myself prefer the physical 'kicking the crap' out the subject." Max retorted.
"I'm getting sick and tired of your bullshit." Dean rumbled.
"Awe. What's wrong Dean, getting bored already?" she mocked in a child-like tone.
"That's it!" With a determined face, Dean punched Max in her jaw splitting the skin on the corner of her lip.
The venom in the punch corresponded to venomous look in his eyes. The impact caused her head to roll back with a small groan from her gaped open mouth. Sam intervened by grappling his older brother from behind.
"That's enough Dean."
"GET OFF ME SAM!"
Dean swung his arms out causing Sam to loosen his grip. Sam lost balance the second their feet were caught in a tangle mess. Landing embarrassingly face down.
The pain and subsequent look on her face was priceless. "Great. I am stuck in surrealistic nightmare gone wrong." Max murmured under her breath.
Standing back up, Sam lifted both hands in a virtual surrender.
"I'm guessing you're getting frustrated there Dean. Coz' this whole demon crap test is clearly not working." Max voiced out as she feverishly scanned the fairly dark room.
"You're wrong bitch. I've been to hell long enough to witness higher level demons undertaking interrogation tests. Having said that I've been through that myself. So I know what torture is."
"So have I." Max retorted.
Dean and Sam faltered in their steps. Unlike Sam's doubts, Dean remained unconvinced. His blood was boiling to a dangerous volcanic state. He marched to the surgical table and lifted up his choice of weapon. The object shimmered its clean stark metal finish in pride.
"You're so wrong. See, there's one torture that even the highest leveled demons buckle under their knees." His tone unmasked with insidiousness. Returning his stance back to her, he smirked smugly at an astounded Max.
Dean hauled her hair back once more, this time he viciously held on to the near point of ripping her hair off her scalp. Max clamped her mouth shut trying not to breathe heavily through flaring nostrils. She struggled to free her wrists against the thick metal chains. Palms going sweaty and numb her stomach lurched with fear. She wriggled slightly in her seat. The knife neared the corner of her wide brown eyes. The tip or the knife dented into her porcelain skin but not enough to excrete blood. Not just yet.
"Why so quiet all of a sudden?" Dean provoked icily.
"Go to hell." She spat.
"Oh sweetheart, I've been to hell and I've been tortured long enough to have it change my life."
"So have I."
"BOYS. STOP! SHE'S NOT A DEMON!" ordered a female's voice.
The moment Dean stepped back, Max visibly relaxed. Her ears strained on the momentum of the domineering footsteps against her own drumming heartbeats in her cochlea.
"Finally someone on my side." Max muttered.
The white fabric caught Max's attention. She sighed. "Great. If it isn't the happy scalpel doctor," Max rolled her eyes.
"My dear girl. I will give you the benefit of the doubt and let that sass mouthing slide since you and I only met in the operating room with your inside open for all sundry to see."
"Wow, don't I feel privileged." Max muttered glimpsing at Sam's hard glare. She looked away discreetly scanning to her right for an escape.
"Boys a word now." MOM ignored her.
Leading the two boys out of the interrogation room. Dean glared at Max as he marched pass her line of sight. Mimicking the motion of shooting a shot gun behind her. With an incredulous glower, Sam slapped Dean's hands. A hard to 'behave himself' glare only caused another in his direction. Un-flinched, Sam simply shrugged his shoulders in annoyance.
Joining the doctor in the hallway and not wanting to take any chances, Dean double checked the lock on the door.
"Right lets' get this show on the road shall we. What's going on?" Dean said impatiently.
"Boy you give me that tone and I will butch slap you adult or not." She warned.
"I'll believe that." Dean muttered until he looked at MOM's expression. Visibly swallowing hard he nervously looked at Sam's disapproving stare. "Sorry…it's just I'm tired of interrogating this bitch because nothing is working. It's making me very nervous." Dean replied hesitantly, flexing his shoulders feeling agitated and tired.
"And it should." MOM confessed.
Silence.
"I hate being redundant but, come again," Dean faltered.
"Take a look at her X-Rays." She started calmly as she handed over a manila file to them, "her blood work also came back. She is so clean that she makes a whistle sound dirty."
Sam raised a questioning eyebrow.
"No junk DNA."
"Base pairs of RNA and DNA that do not encode for protein sequence. Like an allergy strand." Sam commented.
"Wow Sam. Your looks are not the only smart thing about you." She admired mockingly. "Take a look at her next X-Ray."
"What are those codes?" Dean speculated.
"Codes that I've never seen in my life. Each DNA marking in her body has a specific function. And before you ask. I don't know what they are." MOM looked at Dean.
"Angel doings perhaps?" Dean asked.
"Dean, they don't even know how to use a cell phone let alone connect protons to neurons. This kind of chemistry is on a level that I have never seen in my entire life. And I've been around long enough to know whether this kind of ingenuity exists or not."
"Fair enough." Dean stammered. Fixated on the x ray, Dean stood back, lifting the sheet up into the light, "Are those…" he couldn't voice out.
"Yip." She confirmed.
"Holly Shit!" Sam's swallowed, his eyes turning into saucers.
"Yeah. I'm with you on that." MOM professed.
"Hold on Dean. Take a look at it carefully. At a glance it looks similar but at another angle it looks completely different." Sam observed with scrutiny.
"Oh crap. Guess the real question is, how the hell did she get this?" Dean asked.
"YOU KNOW ALL THAT BRAIN POWER IS STARTING TO STINK ALL THE WAY HERE!"
Astounded was not the word that best described their reaction. Like a Kodak moment, all three automatically turned towards the locked door.
"Well I guess that we should go ask her then." MOM suggested. Dean looked at MOM then Sam; Sam looked at MOM then the door. Hesitating who should proceed first.
"After you." Dean gestured towards the door.
They pushed their way into the interrogation room. MOM's pager buzzed reflecting a 911 emergency number on the screen.
"Go. We got this." Dean ordered lightly.
Nodding, "I'll be upstairs. Buzz me if you need anything." And with that the doctor left the boys to attend to Max.
Clenching his jaw at a smitten Max, Dean warned her, "If you utter the words 'I told you so' I'll cann you."
"Where's your mother? She seems really nice." She taunted.
"She's not our mother." Dean replied with an equal amount of bite in his tone.
Max opened her mouth to say something only to be stopped by a virtual hand of silence. "Don't say anything." Dean warned.
"Dean that's enough." Sam shoved his brother aside. Ignoring the looks that were thrown at him.
Dean took his cue and walked towards the surgical table. Leaning against it, he crossed his arms above his chest.
Sam dragged the nearest chair and straddled it, "MOM isn't our mother. She's a hunter just like my brother and I." Max flickered her eyes between Sam and Dean who broke his gaze away from her. Sam's voice continued to echo in her brain, but nothing really mattered. Her heart was dropping deep into her stomach. "Her name is Marian Obrien McKinley. Aka..."
"MOM." Max understood.
"Yeah. She saved my brother and me years ago. Everyone calls her MOM because as far as we know she's probably the only surviving elder in her age group."
"What do you mean?" She asked quizzically.
Perplexed as he observed her stature, "Don't you know? No children or elder survived the war…you don't really know what I'm talking about, do you?" Sam noticed that the more he explained to her the more confused she looked.
"No." she simply replied.
Sam's expression cleared of all emotion, his head jerked to his right. Baffled beyond words he opened and closed his mouth several times. "Wait a second. Can you tell me what year it is?"
"Excuse me?"
"Just humor me." Sam ushered awkwardly with a grin.
"2023."
Sam offered a curt nod, "Who's the president?"
"There was no president after George Walker Bush."
Sam audibly swallowed; turning back to Dean who hung his head.
"Perfect." Dean exasperated with a deep sigh. He looked at Sam. The same thought running in each others brain.
"Why the Jack in the box look people?" The boys expressions didn't help much. Her nervousness hiking further.
"That explains a lot."
"A lot Sam? Try everything!" Dean growled.
"Hey what are you guys talking about?" Max questioned urgently.
"No wonder she doesn't know anything." Sam stated.
"HEY!" Max growled.
"Sorry." Sam snapped his attention to Max, instinctively leaning back from her hard glare. "I didn't mean it that way. I meant that you don't know anything about demons, the angels, the war, the plans or Seattle being ground zero."
"Listen Sam. I appreciate you taking time off your hands to ramble this rather fascinating scenario to me but I would prefer the English version now if that's okay?" Max's rambled without pause, batting her eyelashes in exaggeration.
"Okay." Sam thread awkwardly, flinching slightly. "There's no other way to explain this. So here it is." Sam's eyebrows rose, "It is quite possible that you are from an alternate reality."
And just like that, Max remained immobile. Impossibly still and silent. The inevitable just happened, reminiscing in her stoic brain. Dean and Sam looked at her expectantly. The corner of her lips twitched into a full blown laughter.
"You've got to be kidding me. Alternate Reality. What is this, one of Ames White's sick plans? Messing with the objective's mind in believing that there's an alternate dimension or whatever. This has got to be the most obscured low even for him." She spat with sarcasm.
"Ames? Hunter Ames?" Dean asked.
"Hunter Ames? What is that, an Alcoholic Drink?" Max inquired perplexed.
"What no!" Sam squeaked.
"Fine what about those black clouds that you saw outside? Think that was make believe?" Dean looked just annoyed as the tone in his voice.
"I'd say it was pretty whack theatrics." Max ridiculed.
"Whack?" Dean asked perplexed.
"Yeah," Sam turned to his brother with an awkward smile. "Dean." Sam warned Dean with 'back off' glower the moment he saw Dean unfold his arms. "Max. Those things outside were not clouds. They are real, just as real as my hand touching yours." Sam took hold of Max's hand being all the while weary not to freak her out. "Those black clouds that you saw are demonic souls. They usually possess weaker beings but during the war they possessed just about anyone."
Max saw the seriousness in Sam's posture. That nagging inner feeling resurfaced. This was the reason why she had to wait. "Fine. For argumentative sake let's just say that what you are saying is logically sane and possible. How can you tell if a person is possessed or not?"
"Truth, at first it's hard to tell. But they have this nasty habit of being cocky and usually exhibit black pupils. And they don't really get…" Sam paused. Max's expression turned from skeptical to guilt. "You've seen this before haven't you?"
Max stiffened, her voice lodged in her throat.
"Max?" Sam coaxed gingerly.
Max composed a tranquil posture, "Maybe."
After a moment's pause Dean retorted, "Don't over sell it."
"Look I don't know if what I had just been through can be linked to what you're saying." Max explained skeptically.
"Max it's okay, you can tell us." Sam gingerly coaxed.
"No it's not okay." Max bitterly stammered. "I've seen my friends die." She paused composing all thoughts. "A few weeks ago we found out that a new vaccine was engineered to aid the antibodies against an aggressive influenza strand. At first people got sick, really sick. Doctors thought it was just a side effect to the vaccine. They were close to dying. But it was short lived. They starting attacking healthy people. Infecting them. They exhibited crazy symptoms; black pupils and a server starvation for human blood."
"Croatoan," Dean acknowledged, unfolding his arms he exasperated a sigh.
"What is that?" Max asked.
"Demonic virus." Dean replied with a slight somber.
"Can you remember how you got here?" Sam asked.
She troubled her lower lip between her teeth. "When we were trying to escape the city. Al…my friend saw this window shimmer." Max explained with difficulty.
"So what the window cleaners got it really shinny?" Dean said conceitedly.
"Well. Window cleaners involved or not. I have never seen any glass shimmer like that before. Like some kind of holographic imagery. I mean it was a freaking clothing store with a shimmering forest in it." Max explained briskly. "I mean this is just crazy right?"
Silence
"Right?" she repeated urgently.
Dean looked at Sam, his own anxious expression mirrored on Sam's face. "That's impossible."
"Why? Are you saying that I'm lying?" she demanded.
"No, it's not possible because the bigger dicks are fried crispy." Dean yelled.
"That's not helping Dean." Sam said exhausted.
"Bigger Dicks?" Max echoed.
"He means Angels. Angels have the juice to pull something off something like that. And it's impossible because…"
"They are all dead?" Max connected the dots, "So if that's the case, then who zapped me here?"
"Now that is the right question." Dean pointed at her.
"One in which we will figure out, together." Sam added quickly.
Dean looked heavenly. Clamping his mouth shut in an angry pout. Max noticed Dean's demeanor and couldn't help the way she felt. It was like looking at Alec, disappointed and un-wanting.
"Max one other question. When we brought you to the hospital the first time round. You had these tattoos. Do you know what they mean?"
"What tattoos?" she asked, puzzled.
"You know what. I'm tired of this dancing conversation. Just for once be straight." Dean demanded.
"I am! But I have no idea what you are talking about!" she bawled.
Dean squinted on the peaking black mark on her wrist. Striding towards her, he ripped the sleeve apart. Exposing the markings displayed on her skin. "We are talking about these here." He pointed out.
Gasping in shock, Max timidly leaned back. "What the hell is that? What did you do to me?" she glared at Dean.
"Max, we didn't do anything. I swear to you. You had…" Sam abruptly halted.
"What's happening?" Max quivered in consternation.
"What the hell?" Dean backed away from her.
Sam stood up, jerking back slightly as if he had been burnt.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?"
The marking increased, spreading across the arm, stopping on the ball of her shoulder.
"Max? When we brought you to the hospital, you had those very same tattoos. Don't you remember?" Sam drawled.
Max looked at Sam blankly. Her heart hammered so furiously to the point of convulsions. "No." she mumbled.
"No I don't remember." she quivered timorously.
End of Chapter 2...
A/N: Verdict? I tried not to drag this chapter out too much. Originally this chapter had 30 pages but I downsized it and trimmed a few pointless pieces which I would probably add elsewhere. BUT please hit that pretty review button and lay it out for me...
