Chapter Three: Rescued
It was four years and three months after the disastrous hunt. Dean was in some greasy diner in Iowa, enjoying a bacon cheeseburger after a particularly difficult hunt. The door opened and a woman in leather pants with a short red pixie cut walked right over to Dean's table and sat across from him.
"Uh…" Dean eyed the woman, taking a sip of his beer. "Can I help you?"
"Winchester," she said immediately. "Dean, right?"
"Depends." He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the woman. "Who's asking?"
"Sasha." She cast her eyes down to her fidgeting hands and mumbled, "I'm in the coven that took your friend."
She gathered up the courage to look back up at Dean, who was now sending the worst glare he could muster in her direction. He wanted to kill her right then and there but he couldn't with all these people around. So he settled for taking a long gulp of his beer.
"And?" he said gruffly.
"I want to help you get her back."
"Why would you want that? And why now? Why not four years ago?" Then it hit Dean that this meant Shae was alive. Whether she was still human or not was debatable, but she was alive.
Then he remembered that she'd been with a coven for four years and suddenly it didn't seem like such an overall good thing after all.
"Why do you have to question why?" Sasha demanded. "Just accept the gift I'm giving to you."
"I know better than to trust scum like you," Dean spat back, and the small vampire actually flinched. "If hunting has taught me anything, it's that there's always a catch."
"There's no catch, okay?" Sasha sighed. "You've got your reasons for wanting her back, just like I have my reasons for wanting to return her. You can either just accept the information I want to give you, or you can keep questioning me and I will leave without telling you a word."
A muscle in Dean's jaw worked as he defiantly glared at Sasha, who returned the nasty look with just as much malice. She wasn't going to cave, Dean realized, and even though he knew there was a reason for this vampire to turn her back on her coven and share secrets with a hunter, he knew every moment counted. The last four years had to have been hell for Shae, and he wouldn't let his damn stubbornness keep him even a minute longer if there was a chance he could get her out of there.
"Fine. If you won't tell me any more of your trade secrets, tell me where Shae is."
"They're transporting the coven now," she blurted, seemingly trying to get the words out before she could second guess herself. "They're going to the abandoned factory on the south side of town and should arrive a little after dark."
"I would say thanks, but I still don't trust you." Dean slapped a twenty on the table to cover his food and stood, pushing his arms through the sleeves of his leather jacket.
"Winchester," Sasha called when he was a couple steps away. He abruptly stopped but didn't turn to face her. "Be careful."
"Always am, sweetheart." With a light chuckle, he made his way out of the diner and to the Impala.
On the way to the motel Dean kept his music cranked up so loud he couldn't hear his own thoughts, which was a good thing. Forcing himself to think only the lyrics and the rhythm to strum his fingers on the steering wheel, he sped to the cheap, shady motel and stumbled into his room. His legs gave out a few steps in, and he landed with a dull thud on his knees next to the bed. Clasping his hands, he pressed them against his forehead and closed his eyes, managing a long grimace and a deep breath in place of the breakdown that could've happened.
He wasn't praying. He was pleading. Pleading that this wasn't just a hoax. That he hadn't gotten his hopes up only to find that this Sasha bitch was playing a cruel trick on him.
Then again, in a sense he was hoping he wouldn't find her. Because God knows what kind of shape she'd be in after four years. Maybe he was pleading, just a little bit and without even realizing it, that she was dead. That she'd been dead all this time and was somewhere she couldn't be hurt.
He didn't know what he wanted. He just wanted Shae to be okay, wherever she was.
Despite his doubts, come nightfall he was staking out the factory in the Impala with a good arsenal of weapons. It was nearing midnight and there wasn't a sign of life – or whatever vampires had – in or around the factory. He was trying to stay optimistic, but the pain of losing her once again was gathering into a painful knot in his chest.
He was wrong. Sasha was wrong; either mistaken or the epitome of a coldhearted bitch. Either way, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Shae wasn't here.
He dropped the knife he'd been fingering into the passenger seat and cursed, slamming his open hand against the steering wheel so hard the entire dashboard shook. Staying there for a few moments longer, taking deep breaths in and out and trying to think of anything to distract himself from the disappointment, he finally reached forward and turned the keys in the ignition.
The Impala rumbled to life and its headlights flicked on, washing the gravel lot in front of the factory in a dim yellowish light. And that was when Dean saw it. The dark van parked to the side of the building, barely visible in the looming shadow. And the broken lock on the factory door.
"Son of a bitch." Frantically, Dean turned the Impala back off in what he hoped wasn't a futile effort of keeping his presence unknown. He stocked himself up with a variety of weapons and got out of the car, easing the door quietly back shut behind him.
Inside déjà vu wrapped him in its icy grip. The dark halls of the building were nearly identical to those of the disastrous hunt from years before. Unsure of whether that was a good or bad thing, he continued on.
He wished he'd asked Sasha for more information on the coven, but then again she hadn't been all that willing to give up anything more than where he could find Shae. Still, it'd be nice to have some general information, like how many vamps he was up against and where they would be keeping Shae.
He shuddered at the thought of Shae being held captive. His best friend Shae, the stubborn and witty girl who'd never taken any of his crap. The thought of her having spent her last four years as a prisoner physically hurt Dean, so he couldn't even imagine the state she was in.
If she was even still human.
Dean shook off the thought. Surely Sasha wouldn't have come to find Dean if they'd turned Shae. Right? Surely when he found her – if he found her, he reminded himself bitterly so he wouldn't get his hopes up only to be crushed if the worst case scenario came true – she would still be human. Surely.
A barely audible sound, so soft that Dean thought he'd imagined it until it came again, broke his thoughts, and he whirled to the direction it'd come from. He couldn't place the noise, could barely hear it, but he followed it nonetheless, until he came to a set of narrow cement stairs that led to a darker lower level. Quietly stepping just a couple of stairs down, the temperature dropped so significantly that Dean, even in his leather jacket, jeans, and boots, clenched his jaw and tightened his fists as he continued on.
The sound, which he could now identify as whimpering, came from behind a padlocked door. Shooting the lock would cause too much of a scene, so Dean took a page out of absentee Sam's book and bent over until his ear was close to the lock. Turning it until he heard the telltale sound of locks unlatching, it finally fell loose in his hand, and he eased the door carefully open.
Inside, a tiny girl was in the corner, legs pulled up to her chest and bony arms wrapped protectively around them. Her face was buried into her knees as she cried, but Dean could still tell it wasn't Shae. This girl's hair was a dull red, and she didn't have the ugly long scar on her left forearm that Shae did.
Dean was almost glad this wasn't Shae, because this girl was in bad shape. She was so skinny her bones looked like they were going to break her skin, so skinny her jeans hung loosely on her hips. Her wrists were bloody and torn, presumably because that was where the vampires had chosen to feed from her, and before he even approached her Dean knew she wouldn't be all there.
He surged forward and crouched beside the girl, letting his hand fall on her harm. At the touch she stiffened and quieted, and gradually let her head loll to the side. At first Dean thought she'd gone unconscious, and then she lifted one frail hand and pushed her hair aside, leaving her shredded neck exposed. Then he realized. She thought he was one of the vampires, and she was giving him access to feed on her.
They'd literally brainwashed this girl into being their obedient little snack pack.
"Hey, no, I'm here to help you," he whispered urgently. He caught her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. She looked barely eighteen. "Listen to me. Can you tell me your name?"
She swallowed. "They say I have no name," she managed, voice scratchy. "But I remember it. It's Cara."
"Good. Cara, you're doing good. I'm gonna get you out of here, alright?"
"You can't." Cara's face crumpled and she sobbed pitifully. "I'm never gonna get out of here, am I?"
"Yes. Yes, you are. I just need you to tell me one more thing. Can you tell me one more thing, Cara?"
She sniffled but nodded.
"There's another girl here. Blonde, twenty-two, big scar on her arm?"
"I know her," Cara managed, nodding. "She's Chris's favorite."
Dean's blood ran cold at what that meant, but didn't let the thought phase him. "Where can I find her?"
"I don't…I don't know. They keep us all in this hall, so she's got to be somewhere down here."
"Okay." Dean stood and shrugged off his leather jacket, leaving him in his gray t-shirt and flannel. He tucked the jacket over Cara and knelt by her once more. "Thank you, Cara. I'll be right back, okay? Just be quiet."
Out in the hallway there were at least a dozen doors. Knowing he didn't have the time to stop and have the same conversation with each captive, Dean simply chose the door nearest to the staircase. It was only logical that if Shae really was this Chris guy's favorite, they would keep her closest to the nest. He only hoped his theory was right as he worked the lock.
Pushing the door open, he immediately realized a difference in this room. For one, there was a twin mattress pushed up against the wall, as well as the luxury of a pillow and thin sheet. Something they would only give to their favorite.
She hadn't looked up at the sound of the door opening. In her opinion, ignorance was bliss. The longer she didn't acknowledge another presence in the room, the longer she could pretend it wasn't going to happen.
Dean froze at the sight of her. Laying on her back on the mattress, knees propped up and arms completely still at her sides, she stared at the single light bulb in the center of the ceiling, as if it mesmerized her. Her soft blonde locks were gathered in a knot high on her head, and she was wearing nothing more than an Iowa State sweatshirt three sizes too large and a pair of simple panties.
"Shae," Dean said, and his voice cracked.
Four years of searching, four years of getting his hopes up only to have them torn back down, four years of thinking the absolute worst. And they were over. Those terrible, awful four years were in the past.
Shae weakly lifted her head, wondering if she'd imagined the voice, and she saw him standing there.
"Dean?"