Part Three
"He's not limping anymore."
"Huh?" Sam rolled over and sat up, scratching at his chest. Pulling his tee away from his body he sniffed at it and wrinkled his nose. "Smoke and burnt silver nitrate. Great."
Dean nodded at TJ, sitting in front of the TV, tossing a pillow up and down. "The limp is gone."
Sam's gaze left his apparently very fascinating t-shirt and wandered over to TJ. "Oh."
"Dude," Dean grumbled and threw a pillow at Sam's head. "We can't have a dog let alone a…a…him…that." He watched as the Sasquatch picked up the pillow he'd just thrown and began to hit himself over the head with it, laughing all the while. Dean couldn't stop a quick grin.
"I know." Sam's fascination with his shirt was now focused on his bed. "I know," he repeated softly.
"Right." Dean nodded and pulled on his boots. "So, it's now time for the release part of our catch and release wildlife rehab program." Standing, he crossed the room to the table and booted up their laptop. "Hey, TJ." Dean waved in a come here motion when TJ dropped the pillow and looked at him.
Pulling his lips up in what Dean knew to be an attempt at a smile, but looked more like a pained grimace, TJ trotted across the room and stopped beside Dean. Sam's eyes tracked the creature's movement, otherwise he stayed still.
Dean opened a document and patted TJ's shoulder. "You know you can't stay with us forever, right? We like you. You're a good guy, we'll keep in touch, but you have to go home."
TJ nodded, reaching out with one arched claw he typed, "yEss." Folding both hands over his heart he bowed his head.
"We'll miss you too," Sam said quietly from the bed.
"We'll come visit. We will. We promise. Right, Sammy?"
Sam nodded. TJ looked from Dean to Sam and back again.
"But we sorta got some stuff to take care of first." Dean waved at the laptop. "Do you live near where we…uh….found you?"
TJ nodded. He reached out and carefully typed the words, "YeS, iN WOods ddOwn rOAD."
An hour later two glum young men and a sad Sasquatch piled into the car, Dean swore that even the Impala was sad, but facts were facts. Other people would either want to kill TJ or make a science project out of him. Letting him stay with them would be unfair and likely prove dangerous to them all.
He wasn't kidding when he said they would visit, Dean fully intended to make good on that promise. He knew Sam would give him no argument. They left the town and took the long way around back to the spot they'd first found TJ, not wanting to run into the nasty little guy who wanted gold coins. As the sun drifted overhead and they drove deeper into the woods, sunlight filtered through the branches and leaves above, casting long shadows over the road and surrounding woods.
Rubbing at his eyes, Dean decided the light must be playing tricks, or he was more tired than he thought. Little blue flashes winked on and off in a split second. Every time he tried to turn to get a better look they were gone.
"Must be how the sunlight reflects the leaves," Sam mumbled, echoing Dean's thoughts.
"What?"
"I keep seeing bluish flashes, but nothing is there. It's like as soon as I see them and try to get a good look they disappear, and they're only at the edge of my vision."
TJ tapping Dean's shoulder and pointing drew his attention from his brother's words and the odd feeling in his stomach. Pulling off to the side of the road, Dean cut the engine and twisted in his seat. "Here?"
TJ nodded and sat back in the seat, arms crossed over his chest, head hanging.
"We will come visit you. Every chance we get, but do you really want to spend your life hiding out in a shit-hole motel room?" Dean reached over the seat and pinged the creature's forehead.
"He's right," Sam chimed in. "We wouldn't want you getting hurt because of us."
TJ huffed and put one massive, clawed hand on the door. Casting a brief glance at his brother, Dean sighed and climbed out of the car, hearing Sam's door creak open and gently shut in time with his own. He opened TJ's door and let him out. Looking over the top of the car at Sam, Dean expected to see him watching TJ and him, not looking out at the woods, hand over his eyes, gazing up.
Rapping his knuckles against the car Dean asked, "Sam, what are you doing, looking for fairy dust?"
"I keep seeing blue flashes, but nothing is there." Sam's voice was as close to a whine as it'd been in a long while and Dean had to bit his lower lip to keep the smile from easing over his face.
"Later." He moved around the car to stand beside Sam, waiting for TJ to join them. Sam gave him an odd look, but didn't say anything else about the blue lights. They stood against the Impala and watched TJ amble through the woods, going farther away. Twice he turned to wave at them, they waved back. Shoving away from the car, Dean patted Sam's shoulder, "As soon as this Apocalypse crap is done, we'll come back, bring him a burger and some beer since we'll all be out in the fresh open air."
"Yeah," Sam said, turning his upper body to look around them. "The light here is weird. I guess it's my imagination."
"Not unless I'm imagining the same thing. Little blue balls that form and as soon as you try to really see them they evaporate?"
"Uh huh." Sam nodded.
Turning away from Sam, Dean scanned the area again. "Not much we can do if there is nothing to look for. Let's get outta here."
They drove in silence for a few miles before Sam suddenly straightened in his seat, pointing out the window. "Dean, you see—?"
"Yeah, I see her. What the hell? I didn't see any stranded vehicles, did you?"
Sam simply shook his head, already reaching in the back seat for their smaller first aid kit. Staggering along the side of the road was a woman. She'd obviously been in some kind of accident. She was tall, with wavy chestnut hair and pale gray eyes. That Dean saw plainly even though she was a few yards from them, walking toward them. He pulled the car over and cut the engine, grabbing a blanket as he got out of the car.
Sam was already out and trotting down the road to the woman. "Are you okay? What happened?"
She stopped and took a step back, which made Dean snicker a bit. Poor Sam tended to forget he was six and a half feet tall which often times caused him to literally loom over people, especially women. Stopping in his tracks, Sam asked softly, "Do you need help?"
The woman gave them a wide-eyed nod, backing up another step when Dean joined them. He silently held out the blanket. She reached out with a shaking, manicured hand sporting opalescent nails and no jewelry. Her clothes looked as if they cost more than everything Dean and Sam owned, including their classic car. She wore a pale blue silky blouse, which had a tear over one shoulder—he saw bruised skin underneath—and very dark blue, elegantly cut pants with fancy, thick heeled boots peeking out from the hem.
"I—I'm lost," she stumbled over the words before drawing herself up and meeting them square in the eye.
"Are you hurt?" Sam held out the first aid kit. "We've got some bandages and stuff."
"And stuff, very suave there, Sammy." Dean stepped forward, wrapping the blanket around the woman's petite shoulders. "Ignore my incredibly smooth talking kid brother. C'mon," he steered her at the car. "We'll take you to town."
"I'm taller," Sam snorted and shoved against Dean's shoulder as he walked by.
The woman settled in the back, they started driving once again. Dean glanced in the rearview mirror at her. "Were you in a car accident? Do you live around here?"
"There's a storm coming," she mumbled and looked out the window with a sort of vacant stare that gave Dean the shivers.
By the way Sam shifted in the seat beside him he figured he wasn't the only one creeped out by her. Removing one hand from the steering wheel, he let it slide along the seat until he tapped Sam's leg. When his brother looked over, Dean dipped his head ever so slightly at the glove compartment. Sam drew in a long breath, shifted in his seat again, reached out and silently let the door drop open. He'd have quick and easy access to the gun there if needed.
Leaning forward, Sam squinted out the windshield, hand moving to the dash, one finger pointing to the right. "I don't remember that on the way here, are we going the right direction?" A small cabin sat ten or fifteen yards from the road, a winding drive leading up to it.
Dean rolled his eyes then his shoulders. "We've been on the same road all along, Sam. We only got two directions to pick from and since we turned around after we…after then we're going the right direction."
"Men never want to ask for directions." The woman leaned forward a bit and whispered in Sam's direction, as if imparting on him the secrets of the universe.
"There are no directions to ask for and I ask for directions when the situation calls for it."
"No you don't," Sam said. "Shouldn't we be close to the town now?"
"It should be just over that hill," Dean said. Jerking his head around, he looked at the roadside as they drove by. "Wait—that's the same cabin."
"Okay, now we both know we didn't turn around, so what—?" Sam's words died, right along with the car engine. He seemed to be ignoring Dean's mumbled comments about pain in the ass little brothers and their pain in the ass huge, furry pets.
Sam pulled out his cell phone, put it to his ear and shook his head. Dean tried his; the thing was deader than most ghosts they hunted. Pushing the car door open, Dean sighed and swung out of the car, trying his phone again. Waving at Sam to get out, he opened the back passenger door, leaned down and spoke to the woman, "Looks like we'll have to walk the rest of the way to town, it should only be a mile or two. Think you can do that okay?"
Shaking her head, long hair waving gently over her shoulders she looked very disappointed. "Men never want to ask directions."
"Lady," Dean literally sputtered, "we only got two directions to pick from, to town," he pointed with one hand to town. "And away from town." He held his other arm out, pointing in the opposite direction. When Sam barked a quick laugh from the other side of the car, Dean straightened, pulled his hands in to rest on his hips, and glared at him.
She slid across the seat and inched out of the car. "My name is Lucy." She held out one hand, which Dean took and guided her to the roadside. "You seem like a nice boy, but you really should learn to ask for directions."
Dean ground his teeth together. Sam bit his lower lip and grabbed their emergency supply duffel from the back seat, slinging it over his shoulder, grinning at Dean like he'd just won the lottery.
Setting off down the road in the correct direction to town, Dean's irritation turned to something more like apprehension. He glanced sideways at Sam a few times, each time meeting his brother's eyes. Sam was looking over at him as much as he was looking forward. With every passing mile, Sam's expression became less amused and more grim.
The fact was they shouldn't have been walking this far. They really shouldn't have passed that stupid cabin three more times, each time it was on the opposite side as it had been the time before. Even a stupid hunter would see there was something odd going on, and neither Dean nor Sam were stupid.
When they walked by the cabin for the fourth time, Lucy whispered, "men never ask for directions."
Sam's hand landed on Dean's arm and he shook his head before Dean could spew out more remarks about a road that only had two directions. When the wind picked up and the temperature slithered down, they both looked all around them. There were no wisps of white mist, no ghostly figures, nothing that usually appeared with dropping temps.
Freezing rain began pelting down on them with enough force Dean heard the drops plunk off leaves on the trees and the ground. He looked up, wiping the cold moisture from his face. "Perfect. Just damn perfect."
"Uh, Dean." Sam waved one hand to his right and gave Dean a half-hearted smile, along with a quick head shake.
"Of course." The cabin stood there, ready for three cold, tired, desperate people. "Whatever you do, don't eat any cookies if some old lady offers them to us."
They trudged down the winding drive and stepped onto the low front porch of the cabin. It was a nice place, in other circumstances Dean might have found it pleasant. It was a log cabin, though one of the newer, prefab type kind. There was a low porch all the way around and the walk was lined with flowers. The whole picture annoyed the crap out of Dean.
It was a big, fat trap and he knew it. The way Sam stood looking the cabin up and down, side to side told Dean the same thoughts were running through his brother's head.
Turning the doorknob, Dean slowly opened the door and walked inside, gun drawn. A quick but intent glance around the one-room cabin proved it to be empty as far as Dean could tell. He moved further inside and motioned for Sam and Lucy to follow him. The austere interior didn't look at all sinister, yet the hair on the back of his neck continued to stand at attention. When all remained still and quiet, Dean, somewhat reluctantly, returned the gun to its normal spot at the small of his back. "Nice place." And it was. Just as pin neat and attractive inside as out even with the token amount of furniture. Swiping a hand across his face to wipe away the cold moisture left by the freezing rain, Dean muttered, "Might as well make ourselves at home."
From behind Dean, Lucy spoke. "Do you really think we should? I mean, what about the owners…"
"Lady, I definitely think we should. Any port in a storm as they say. And I'm cold, wet," Dean paused when his stomach growled, "and hungry. So, yeah, we're making ourselves at home."
"I really don't think the owners will mind," interjected Sam. "We're not going to hurt anything."
While Sam busied himself lighting a couple of oil lamps left sitting on a small table near the door, Dean gathered the makings of a fire, stacking several logs on the grate. He'd just about finished when a sharp edge on the grate bit into the side of his hand leaving a substantial gouge. "Ow, dammit."
Glancing over his shoulder, Sam called out, "You okay?"
"Yeah," Dean scowled and pressed his hand against his thigh. "It's just a cut."
An odd gasp from Lucy drew their attention. Her gaze was locked on Dean.
Uncomfortable, Dean shifted from foot to foot. "Really, it's just a cut." He watched Sam move closer to him out of the corner of his eye.
The woman's gaze traveled to the ruby red gash, and she suddenly inhaled, her nostrils flaring. She licked her lips. "Hmmm. Too bad. I was hoping for a little more foreplay."
The Winchesters glanced at each other in confusion before focusing once again on Lucy. Wary, they both straightened and stood tall.
"Listen, lady," growled Dean, "I don't know what you're into, but we don't swi—" Dean's bluff was cut off as a gust of preternatural wind swirled through the cabin and three things happened simultaneously. The cabin walls deteriorated—turning into nothing more than dilapidated slats. What had been a cozy interior lay in ruin. The young woman they knew as Lucy changed before their eyes, all signs of bruising and torn clothing faded away. And the glowing blue orbs of light they thought they'd been glimpsing suddenly appeared, hovering near "Lucy".
Dean and Sam both made a move for their weapons; however, Lucy's simple hand gesture was faster and the blue orbs, comet tails of a lighter blue trailing behind, suddenly surrounded the brothers. In a blink, the blue lights spiraled round and round each hunter, restraining them in gossamer threads of glowing blue.
Dean immediately struggled against the bonds as did Sam. A wave of lethargy swept through both Winchesters and they dropped to their knees.
"What the hell?" Dean muttered. "What're you doing?"
Lucy smiled, and it wasn't a pretty smile. "You can just call me a collector. A special kind of—oh, let's say tax—collector." She walked closer to the hunters.
"A collector? And just what do you collect?" The elder hunter growled.
"Blood."
"Blood? Why?"
"What are you really?" Sam cut in, an analytical quality to his voice.
"Ooohhh, very clever, Saaam. Who said hunters were dumb?" Again the shark smile flashed. "Technically, I'm a loogaroo."
"LOOgaroo? Is that like the pansy-assed version of a rugaru?"
Lucy backhanded Dean across the mouth then admired the trickle of blood spilling from the corner of his lip. She leaned in and touched the tip of her tongue to the ruby smear. "No."
Dean looked at her in disgust as her eyes rolled back with pleasure.
"So sweet."
"Why do you say 'technically'?" Sam drew her attention away from his brother with his question.
Lucy tilted her head to the side, as if contemplating the answer. "I suppose you could say I've gone rogue."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Loogaroos, as I'm sure you know being hunters extraordinaire, are in league with the devil. We give him blood every night; he gives us our magical abilities." A wicked looking knife appeared in one of Lucy's hands and a large, ornate bowl appeared in the other. "I…well, I took it a step or two further, you see. I made a new deal. A better deal. I collect more blood than others like me. I feed his particular addiction. And after the coming End, I shall sit at Lucifer's right hand, a valued partner."
The Winchesters exchanged glances before Sam spoke again. "So you're basically swearing fealty to the Devil with blood payments for a better life after the Apocalypse."
Lucy laughed. "Exactly."
"Dream on, sister," muttered Dean. "He ain't gonna remember…or care."
"Oh, he will. I'll get bonus points for premium stuff like yours." Lucy moved closer to Sam and raised the knife.
"How'd you know we were hunters?" called Dean, hoping to distract her.
It didn't work. The knife bit into Sam's arm and he cried out before gritting his teeth. Lucy turned to Dean. "You cut your hand. I could smell it."
"What?"
"We've learned that adrenalin and other chemicals make most blood taste sweet. The sweeter the more addictive. And hunters—ooohhh, hunters have the sweetest blood of all with just a hint of spice." The knife bit into Dean's arm. Lucy then raised the bloody blade to her lips and licked, a look of rapture crossing her face.
"You can take all of mine then. I've been hunting longer than him. Leave Sam alone." Dean renewed his weak struggles.
"No!" Sam protested. "Take mine."
"How cute! Sticking up for each other." She singsonged. "But no. This—THIS—is my crowning moment. This will make me his Queen!" With a mad glint in her eye, Lucy thrust the knife forward, only to stop short of her target as she suddenly staggered. A look of confusion alighted across her face. Her current façade faded away for a second or two revealing her true form. "No!" Her two faces wavered back and forth and the blue lights restraining the brothers flickered. Lucy dropped the knife and bowl, clenched her fists, and closed her eyes. More blue orbs appeared in the cabin. The flickering stopped. Swaying slightly, the loogaroo sighed and bent to pick up her weapon. Before she could straighten, the flickering began again. "No! This can't be right," gasped Lucy.
Looking around, Dean muttered, "What's happening?"
"Dean, I think—I think she's having trouble controlling everything!" answered Sam.
"No, no! That's not true, my power remains strong!" The hollowness in her voice belied her words. "I'll be invincible once I give HIM your blood!" Her swaying became more pronounced.
Sam eyed her shrewdly, mind racing. "I think I know what's happening. You've been giving Lucifer shapeshifter blood for who knows how long. And since it's not human blood, the magical powers he's been granting you aren't as strong as they could be. Right?"
"NO!"
"And you're having trouble locking two of us down at once," he continued.
"Nononononono," Lucy screeched.
As the glowing blue restraints dimmed and wavered, the sapphire spheres snapped back to Lucy and began to coalesce. The orb grew. The restraints faded.
Both Dean and Sam broke free as the blue lines disappeared completely. The brothers dived forward, knocking Lucy into the blue mass. She screamed long and loud. The blue hole imploded, and she was gone in the blink of an eye.
The brothers stared at each other, mirror images of dishevelment, weariness, and chagrin. Blood dripped off their hands in alternating drops. Dean finally shook his head. "Let's get out of here." He grabbed their duffel.
It wasn't a terribly long walk back to the Impala now that the repetitious illusion had stopped looping. Dean sighed happily as they approached the car. They were almost at her front bumper when the moon peeked out from behind a cloud and Dean stiffened, reaching for his gun. There was someone sitting in the backseat.
