Title: Who believes in the Tooth Fairy?
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: Set mid-season 6 post 6x14 Mannequin 3: The Reckoning. A stand-alone hunt. Some hurt!sam with a sprinkling of hurt!dean and a dash of that Winchester angst/comfort we all love so much.
Author's note: Okay now things get interesting. A bit of mayhem and me working out a big of today's frustrations on the boys. Hope they still love me when I'm done!
Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Further she ranged, wider it spread, seeking and searching and finally…there. She gasped in a breath at the taste of him, of his soul and narrowed her focus. There was the one who had made her salivate when his energy had crossed her path. She reached for him, invisible fingers reaching, seeking, finding his sleeping mind. She reached for him, his dreams opening before her, almost…almost…she hissed in anger as her prize was ripped from her, woken without warning, her magic flinging back across the lake and into her like a whip. "Mine." She growled but she was no child for fits of temper. She swallowed her disappointment. There would be another time. He would have to sleep again and then she would have him.
CHAPTER 3
"Not much of a cop shop." Sam commented as he and Dean stepped into the Devil's Lake police station. The bull pen was small, only a half dozen desks, a counter that had seen better days and a small hall that presumably led to offices and the cells. A balding Sargent stood at the counter and watched them enter with one brow in the air. The boys walked confidently up to him, dressed in their suits and false FBI badges at the ready.
"Agent Lattimer." Dean held up his badge. "My partner, Agent Bering. We need to see the Chief."
The Sargent studied the badges for a moment and then nodded. "I'll get him. Wait here."
Sam waited until he'd gone down the hall and turned the corner before punching his brother in the shoulder. "Dude. You gave me the girls name?" Sam growled.
Dean chuckled and shrugged. "Next time I ask if you wanna do ID's, don't go back to sleep."
"You. Suck." Sam tucked the badge in his pocket, disgusted and ignoring the self-satisfied smirk on Dean's face.
The Sargent returned with the Police Chief on his heels; an older man with slicked back silver hair and thick glasses over grey eyes.
"Agents. I'm Chief Michaels." He shook their hands over the counter. "What can I do for you?"
"We're here about the murders." Sam started. "We'd like to see your files and any other information you have."
"Huh." Chief Michaels scratched his head. "Well I can tell you what I know. Take me til tomorrow to get you copies of the files though."
"Seriously?" Dean asked, surprised and unimpressed.
"Well we sent them over to the town hall to get them put in the computers." He smiled. "We don't really do computers around here yet." His Sargent rolled his eyes heavenward behind him.
"Right." Dean drawled. "What can you tell us then?"
"Let's see. All four were single, lived alone, no families. The three bodies we do have, they were hauled out of the lake." The Chief sighed sadly. "We're still looking for the last guy; Jeremiah Gordon. His employer reported him missing when he didn't show up for work. Apparently that never happens ever."
"We're they all found in the same area of the lake?" Sam asked, scribbling the information down in his notebook.
"No, no. Two of them turned up on the east side of the lake and the last floated up in the Marina." He shrugged. "Can't make heads or tails of all this myself."
"Shocking." Dean deadpanned and smiled when Sam kicked his foot.
"Shocking, yes it is." The Chief said, completely missing the sarcasm and forcing his Sargent into another eyeroll. "Well I'll just leave you boys to it. Federal Agents and all, I'm sure you'll have it figured in no time." The Chief left to wander back to his office and the Sargent snorted loudly.
"He's not the brightest bulb in the box I know." He held out a hand to Dean. "Sargent McMurray. Next time you need something, ask me first."
Dean laughed and shook his hand gratefully. "Will do, Sarge. Thanks."
Outside, Dean leaned across the roof of the Impala. "What do you think? Have a look round the lake?" It was still early afternoon, plenty of time before night fell and made things more interesting.
"Yeah. Not much else we can do until we get those files." Sam shook his head. "'Don't really do computers'. Wow. The Twenty-first century just missed him didn't it?"
"How's your head?" Dean asked and fixed his brother with a fierce stare. "And don't give me any crap. It's bright as hell out here today."
"It's fine." Sam said and waved him off. "I'm fine."
"Yeah well, do me and your just fine head a favor and dig the sunglasses out of the glove box." Dean smiled at the irritation plain on Sam's face and got in the car.
Sam sighed. The sun was out and gleaming happily today. Normally it would have put a smile on Sam's face but today it was just making his head hurt. He had a mild concussion from the morning's incident but he knew, whatever Dean thought, it was nothing he couldn't handle. He folded himself into the front seat and dutifully dug out the glasses.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Devil's Lake looked even less devilish by day than it had by night. The waters were dark and serene, lapping gently at the pilings of the marina. The clouds reflected in the water with the mountains behind them created a mirror effect and the flock of geese flying over top gave the whole thing a postcard effect.
"Gotta be a reason evil Fairy's dropping her leftovers in the lake." Dean commented.
"Well my guess would be convenience." Sam shrugged. "She's got to be somewhere near the lake."
"Let's get looking then." Dean headed out to the first row of little cottages, all situated out over the water on piers. Most of them looked to have been abandoned for a long time. Webs swung and shifted from every corner and in some places hung down into the water below. The paint was chipped and flaking and boarded over windows plentiful.
Sam shouldered open the door of the first and shone a flashlight inside. It was a single room and bare of any furnishings. "I can't see her holing up in one of these." He said and followed Dean to the next. "Too easy to get caught here. I mean, one of your victims screams and you risk some passing local hearing it and bringing Barney Fife down on you."
"Yeah I think you're right. Ok, we'll start outside town. Saw some likely places when we came in." Dean started back to the car with a sidelong glance at Sam. He was rubbing his forehead, eyes squinted shut behind the glasses. Dean shook his head. Some things, it seemed, would never change like his brother's habit of hiding his hurts and pains until he fell over. Well, he'd just have to keep a close eye on him. "Come on, Sammy. Pick up those mutant feet of yours."
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Sam squinted out the passenger window at the lake as they drove along the shore. They'd been round the west side of the lake. They were having a look at the east side now as afternoon turned to evening. The sun was lowering but had yet to drop behind the hills. It was shining straight into his head he thought, as if alive and determined to make him as uncomfortable as possible. People were dead and a man was missing. They didn't have time to mollycoddle a headache.
"That's a likely spot." Dean pointed ahead of them, down on the shore. There was a ramshackle looking storage house with a domed roof and short pier extending out onto the water. Dean rolled up alongside the house and stopped in its shadow. He heard a soft sigh of relief from the passenger seat and smirked. Sam wasn't pulling anything over on him. "Tylenol's in the glove box you know."
Sam sighed. "It's just a headache, Dean."
"Uh huh. So all that bobbing and weaving you did walking back to the car before, that was what? A new dance move? The sasquatch rhumba?" He laughed and ducked out of the car when Sam threw an elbow at him.
"You're not funny." Sam told him when he got out and would have rolled his eyes if wasn't sure it'd hurt. "I'll check the shed."
"I'm hilarious and we'll check it." Dean pulled out his flashlight and the handgun at his waist. He led the way to the off-center door facing the lake, Sam at his side and kicked it open. It thunked inward against the side wall and dropped off one hinge. "Oops."
"You're a menace." Sam chuckled and shone his own light into the dim, dusty interior. There were workbenches against one wall, a thick layer of dust over everything and cobwebs dangling from the beams in the arched ceiling like Spanish moss.
"You look for clues, Scooby. I'll check the pier." Dean grinned and stepped back out in the sun.
"I swear I'm getting him dog food for Christmas." Sam muttered and stepped further into the dim interior. If anyone had been there before them, it had been far too long ago. The only prints on the dusty floor were his as he made them. He looked out through the door and saw Dean kneeling by the edge of the pier. The ringing of his cell startled him. He pulled it out with a half laugh and smiled when he saw the caller.
"Hey, Bobby." Sam answered.
"Sam! Tell Dean to check the battery on his damn phone." Bobby growled. "I was about to drive up there. I found some more lore on your Faerie. She can call the little folk of the water."
"The what?" Sam went to the door, standing just inside and out of the sun where he could see Dean.
"I can't pronounce the damn name." Bobby said and sounded to be rifling through papers. "Basically they're male water faeries. Nasty little buggers. They're small, but strong and mean tempered. You and Dean stay the hell away from that lake until you find her."
"Shit." Sam lowered the phone and stepped outside. "DEAN!" he shouted.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Dean was examining odd scratch marks in the wood of the pier. Something had definitely been dragged over it recently. He stepped out onto the wooded planks and followed the marks. He was bending for a closer look when he heard Sam call his name. He stood and looked. Sam stood just outside the door of the shack, phone in his hand and was waving him in.
"What's up?" Dean called. He took a step toward land and then froze as something grabbed his brother from behind and pulled him back inside the shack. "SAM!" Before he could run to him, something grabbed Dean's own feet and he had only time to curse before his face was planted into the rotting wood.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Sam gasped when he felt small hands take hold of his arms and jerk him back inside the shack. He was tossed into the back wall with force, rattling the entire building and sending dust and webs sifting down on his head. His light dropped to roll away on the floor and briefly caught something small as it flitted through the air. He pulled the gun from the back of his pants and dove across the floor for his light. It was launched at his face. Sam managed to get an arm up and grunted with the hard impact of plastic on bone.
"You little bastard." Sam growled and went for the light again. He got it and shone it round the room, looking for the water faerie. He could hear it fluttering about but couldn't tell where the sound was coming from. "Son of a bitch!" He shouted, feeling teeth latch on to his shoulder blade. He dropped his light again and reached over his shoulder, grabbing hold of something wet, slick and struggling. He pulled it round and slammed it into a workbench hard enough to buckle one of the legs. He held it in place in the semi dark, the ambient light from his flash light showing him a dim figure and brought his gun up, placing it against the creature. Sam moved his hand and fired simultaneously. There was a satisfying splat and then silence.
He ran to the door and threw it open. "Dean!" Sam saw with horror his brother's limp body being dragged over the side of the pier. "NO!" He sprinted to the pier and dove into the chilled waters as Dean's head sank out of sight. The salty water stung in the wounds on his back as he kicked for the shadow he knew to be his brother. Sam reached out and caught hold of one of Dean's arms. Instantly there was a small, green haired creature hissing bubbles at him.
Sam had kept his gun and shot the thing, sending it tumbling away into the water. He tugged Dean to him and pushed hard for the surface. They broke into the air, Sam gasping for breath and swam quickly for the shore, refusing to let go his gun or his brother should more of the things show up. "Dean!" He yelled in his brother's ear, hoping for a response and getting nothing.
His head pounding, shoulder burning, Sam pulled them both out of the water and laid Dean out in the still sun warmed sand. "Dean! Don't you do this." He wasn't breathing and a gash on his forehead was turning half his face red with blood. Sam pressed hard on his sternum once and again and a third time and sobbed in relief when water spewed from his brothers mouth. "That's it, Dean." Sam rolled him to his side and held him while he cleared his lungs.
When the heaving stopped, Sam rolled him back into his lap, propping his head up in the crook of his elbow. "Dean?" Sam gave him a light shake. "Dean, you have to wake up." Dean's eyes remained stubbornly closed. "Dammit, Dean." Sam jerked his head up at the sound of rushing water. Foam was appearing on the surface of the lake around the pier. "Hope your head can take this."
Sam stood, pulling Dean up with him and got him up in a fireman's carry, head dangling behind him. He swallowed a cry when his head banged into the wound on his back and wobbled them both back to the car. He set Dean down on his feet and stood him up against the car, using his own body to keep him standing and fought to get the door open. A look over his shoulder showed several small heads were now floating on the surface of the lake.
"Not good." Sam gasped. He manhandled Dean into the passenger seat and ran around the other side, sliding behind the wheel. "Dammit!" Sam dug quickly through Dean's pockets for the keys. "Sorry, bro. Nothing personal." He yanked the keys out of Dean's front pocket and slammed them home in the ignition, revving the engine and peeled away from the shack, the pier and the dozen or so little Faeries that were coming toward the shore.
The sun slid behind the mountains finally as Sam sped away from the lake and back toward town. He had one hand clasped to the front of his brother's shoulder, reassured by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath his hand. "You're gonna be pissed when you see how much water we just dumped in here." Sam said with a giddy laugh. They were both sopping, puddles of water pooling at their feet and on the bench seat.
"Guh." Dean moaned.
"Dean?" Sam gave him a gentle shake. "You with me?"
"Sammy?" Dean's head dropped forward and then jerked back up, eyes shooting open. "Sammy! Look out!"
Sam chuckled. "Yeah a little late there but thanks."
"Wha' the hell happened?" Dean slurred and raised a shaking hand to his head. "Oh hell." He came away with blood.
"Little midget male water faeries." Sam said and groaned. "Wish Bobby'd called a little sooner with that warning."
"Bobby?" Dean was struggling to rein in his scattering thoughts. "Did we talk to Bobby?"
"I did. He called right before they jumped us." Sam groaned and slapped a hand on the wheel. "Dammit! My cell's still in that damn shack!"
"Not goin' back for it." Dean said and brushed at Sam's hand on his chest. "Dude, gerroff."
"Just put your head back, Dean." Sam said and watched, worried as Dean's speech was still slurred, his eyes still crossing. "You took a really bad hit to the head. Maybe we should go to a hospital."
"Nuh-uh." Dean shook his head and then stopped, regretting the movement. "We're good. Motel." He looked over to see Sam staring at him in disbelief. "Seriously, little brother. I'm ok. Just clean me up and roll me in bed." Dean dropped his head back onto the seat and moaned. "And a bottle of whiskey."
Sam snorted and eased off the gas as they neared the edge of town. "No whiskey. You're bleeding idiot." Dean grunted something in response and drifted off again.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Sam tied off the last stitch in Dean's forehead with a sigh of relief. Dean had remained blissfully asleep through all five of them. He fixed a bandage over the wound and tugged the sheet up to his shoulders, giving him a pat on the chest. As disoriented as Dean had been in the car, his head had slowly cleared by the time Sam got him back to the room and his eyes were normal. Other than a few claw marks on his legs, the head wound was the worst he'd come away with. It was a minor miracle.
Sam stood and stretched and instantly regretted it. The bite marks on his shoulder blade protested the movement and he hunched, trying to lessen the pain. He went into the bathroom, stripping off his still damp clothes and tried to get a look at it in the mirror.
"Crap." His back was a mess of purpling bruises from his impact with the shack wall and the bite was actually several small bites all clustered together on his left shoulder blade. He'd never be able to reach them to clean and bandage them. He went back out and looked at Dean, dismissing the idea of waking him. What Dean needed now was sleep. They could fix up his back in the morning. Sam pulled a pair of sweats from his bag and slipped them on before crawling into his bed on his stomach. He buried his face in the pillow and reached one arm out to turn off the light before falling easily into sleep.
Sam's fitful dream of the afternoon, quickly turned to a nightmare where Dean was pulled just out of his grasp beneath the water, eyes wide and beseeching his little brother to save him. That vision gave way to one he'd thought he'd long laid to rest. He found himself laying back on a familiar bed, the taste of chocolate chips in his mouth. Even as he relaxed he felt panic and terror build in his chest, sure of what he would see when he opened his eyes. He fought opening them but in the end had no choice and was met with the nightmare of his Jess upon the ceiling. He wanted to scream, to call out but a weight had settled across his chest, stealing his breath.
The pressure increased, the nightmare shifted and he was standing in an empty room, before him stood a wall, an impossibly tall wall. Fire and ice licked up the outside of the wall, dancing around each other. Sam backed away from it, unsure why but he knew that this wall was to be left alone. He tried to call out for his brother but his breath was stranded in his chest, refusing him release. His eyes widened in horror when the wall before him bowed outward as if something inside was seeking release. He shook his head as the flames and ice inched out across the floor toward him, licking at his toes. Chains erupted from out of the darkness above him, diving in to wrap around him, his chest, his neck, pulling him upward. Panic and abject terror overwhelmed him. He could feel tears coursing down his face. He fought to make a sound, any sound, to say his brother's name. He felt as though his heart were near bursting and finally, against the iron bands around him, he managed to squeeze out one small breath.
"Dean!"
Sam jerked awake, rolling from his bed and onto the floor with a thump, gasping for breath as though he hadn't breathed in years. "God!" He gasped and reached up to turn the light on beside the bed. Dean still slept soundly. Sam pulled himself back up to his bed, sitting on the side and tried to steady his frantic breathing. He was still gasping, panting air into his starved lungs. He looked down at his pillow and saw the imprint of his face. He gave a nervous laugh, rubbing shaking hands through his sweat damp hair. He must have fallen asleep on his stomach, his face turned in to the pillow. He'd suffocated himself. His whole body trembled as a fragment of the nightmare came back to him, of a wall and chains. He lurched to his feet and into the bathroom, suddenly loathe to be anywhere near his bed.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
"Miiiiiine." She breathed along the night air, savoring the first taste of his soul on her tongue. His nightmares were nectar, exciting her and the fear so easily brought to life within his mind would make his blood taste all the sweeter. She pulled back the tendril of her magic reluctantly. He was hers now. She had marked him. When he slept again, she would taste him again, strengthen the fear, sow discord in his thoughts. He would be a meal she would not soon forget.
