A/N - Thank you so much to all that have read this so far, especially those that have reviewed and are following. I really appreciate it and hope you are enjoying the story!
Disclaimer - I wish I did, but I don't own any piece of Supernatural. I'm just playing with them, I'll put them back where I found them.
Glancing down at his watch again, Dean sighed, bumping his head against the pitted brick of the building he was leaning up against. It was already two am and there was still no sign of their prey. He checked his phone again, knowing he hadn't missed a message, but it gave him something to do. He had seen people leave, obviously employees, as the ladies were still heavily made up. Each time a man would come out with them, a big bruiser with a mean gleam in his eye. He had spotted Dean initially and made it clear he was not welcome to stay where he was, so Dean moved out of sight, huddled behind a dumpster. It reeked, it was cold and he was getting hungry. All in all, he was not having the best night. At a strip club and he was sitting outside next to the garbage. Good times.
The door opened again and Dean leaned slightly forward so that he had good view of who was leaving. It was a woman, the light outside the door shining on her red hair. She turned his way briefly, her features illuminated clearly before she started heading up the alley towards the parking lot. Dean noted that the security man had not followed her out. He flipped open his phone and quickly sent Sam a message to let him know where she was headed and to have him meet him. He pulled his Colt out from the small of his back, keeping it carefully concealed against his thigh as he started to follow her, his steps measured and silent.
She didn't give any indication that she knew she was being trailed, her gaze straight ahead. He wasn't surprised she had declined the escort. It wasn't as if she was vulnerable to the typical type of attack. He was surprised to see her alone as had expected victim number four to be with her. Dean couldn't help but notice the curves of her ass in her tight jeans, long legs swallowed by black boots. It was nice packaging for a monster. There was no harm in appreciating her form while he was back here, it wouldn't stop him from killing her.
They were nearing the head of the alley and he anticipated that she would head towards the parking lot, but she turned left. He pressed into the shadows by the wall, watching her carefully. Her eyes didn't flick his way. Once she was out of sight, he moved forward quickly, glancing around the mouth of the alley. He saw Sam on the opposite side of the road, casually standing on the corner, talking on his cell. Dean knew the play. He had seen her as well and couldn't get to cover quickly enough. It was perfectly normal to see a guy outside a strip club talking on his phone, nothing to raise suspicion. Probably just a wife or girlfriend upset that he was out so late, right? Sam caught his gaze briefly and gave an infinitesimal nod in acknowledgement of the hand motion Dean gave him telling him to follow.
Sam turned to trail her on the other side of the road, still pretending to hold a conversation on his phone. Dean appreciated the naturalness of his movements and for a moment, wondered if he really was on the phone. He was gesturing wildly with one hand and turned to pace the other way for a moment before turning back around. He glanced back over at Dean and nodded, giving him the signal that she was far enough ahead to not see Dean when he came around the corner. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, the gun still clenched in his right hand, he started after her. She was almost to the next block.
The brothers followed her carefully, not too close, but not so far back that they could lose her. She never turned around, only moved quickly and quietly down the empty sidewalk to her unknown destination. She turned down another side street and Dean saw Sam continue on past the street to double back later. Even though she had given no indication of noticing that they were there, it was better not to take any risk. Her senses were better than theirs; she could be drawing them in, waiting for the best time to make her move.
Dean hurled himself quickly into a recessed doorway when he saw her stop. He glanced over to check Sam's position and didn't see him, so figured he had gotten out of sight quickly. They needn't have bothered. She was only pausing to jog up the stairs of the building in front of her. She went inside without looking around. It was an ordinary one story concrete building. It didn't look like a place where people lived, it was dark and in a state of neglect. A place people would actively avoid. Perfect succubus habitation.
He saw Sam jogging towards him on his side of the street and stepped out of the alcove. "What do you think? Front door?" he asked Dean, glancing at the darkened windows. Sam's question didn't process right away. Dean was too occupied studying his brother. From across the road, Sam had appeared focused and smooth, fully on the job. Up close, however, there was still the undercurrent of tension and unsteadiness in his eyes that couldn't be explained by the hunt. He was left wondering if it was lingering from the earlier incident or if there was something else.
"You okay, Sammy?" When he saw Sam flinch, he knew he shouldn't have asked, but he wanted to be sure. He took Sam's nod at face value, message received. Sammy wasn't okay, but he was as good as he was getting for the moment. Clearly his brother was trying to maintain a strong façade and he wasn't helping by pointing out the fail. Dean made a mental note to probe some more as soon as this was wrapped up, then got his brain back on the matter at hand.
It didn't appear that she would be expecting them, but it would be dangerous not to take precautions. Dean was thinking that this was just a little too easy. He didn't for one second believe that she didn't know she was being followed. What kind of monster wasn't aware of what was on their six? One coming in the front and one the back would be the smart option, but he didn't want to split them up. He wasn't entirely comfortably leaving Sam on his own in any situation, and while his little brother was making all the right moves, he was still worried about the strain on him from the earlier episode. So he took the next best option.
"Yeah, I think that's a good plan. Stay here and keep an eye on the door. I'll swing around to see if there's a back entrance and do what I can remove it as an option." At Sam's nod, Dean took off around the block to find the back of the building.
Sam leaned up against the wall, careful to keep the door in sight, but to stay out of the line of the windows. The street lights were just enough to illuminate the sides of the building, but left the doorway dark. He exhaled a long breath, wishing he could get the tightness in his chest to go with it. So he wasn't holding it together as much as he thought. He had been hoping that he had managed to stuff the worry down far enough that it wouldn't show, but he should have known better. Dean knew his face better than anyone else. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to have to do some serious talking when they finished this up, but he was actually looking forward to it. Yes, Dean would be furious that he was actively trying to recall lost memories, but he was hoping his big brother could shed some light.
Hearing footfalls, Sam turned to see Dean loping back towards him. "Back door is out of commission," Dean said with a grin.
They both approached the landing of the entrance carefully. There were no windows around the door to give away their approach, but it also meant they couldn't see inside. Dean did a quick sweep of the street to make sure no one was around to see them, then tried the knob. Not surprisingly, it was locked. He made quick work of that with his lock pick kit. He met eyes with Sam and counted down to three silently. He thrust the door open and moved swiftly inside, gun held ready before him. Sam slipped in, facing the other way, gun tracking his eye as they swept across the darkened room.
It appeared to be an abandoned warehouse, the sparse illumination from the street lights outside resting on dusty shelves and discarded boxes. It was a big open room and it appeared to be empty. Dean was reaching for his flashlight when an overhead light flashed on close to them, forcing them to cringe as the brightness attacked their eyes.
"I was wondering how long you were going to wait to make your move."
She was sitting on a stool by the wall, boot heels hooked into a rung. Her jacket had been discarded on a table nearby. A small smile curved her lips. She didn't appear to have a weapon of any sort, but then she didn't really need one. The brothers moved steadily toward her, guns trained on her head. The bullets wouldn't kill her, but it would certainly slow her down. She held up her hands in the universal sign of "I'm innocent, please don't shoot", but she didn't look worried in the slightest.
"You know why we're here, right? So can the harmless act," Dean gritted out.
She looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged, her hands dropping down to her lap. "Fine, but I'm not what you think I am." She paused, eyes tilted up in a thoughtful look. "Well, I am, but I'm not the one you're after."
"Succubi don't share territory," Sam inserted. It was bad for business to have two working the same beat. People would eventually catch on and hunters would come your way. It never happened, at least not for long. One would kill the other.
"This isn't exactly my territory. I don't live here, I'm passing through," she explained.
Dean was done with the foreplay. It had been a long night and he wanted to get back to the motel and crash. "Listen up, bitch, we're not interested in your lies. If it quacks like a duck, it's a succubus." Sam shot him a "Really, that's the best you got?" look at his use of words. Dean just shrugged. He was tired, they couldn't all be winners.
Her head fell back in an exasperated sigh. She looked back at them with sad eyes. "Look boys, I really don't want to hurt you. Please don't make me," she pleaded quietly.
Well that was a first. The baddies were usually more than willing to hurt them. Thrilled to hurt them. Sam glanced over at Dean, brow furrowed in question. Dean just shrugged and gave him his "I don't know what the hell's going on any more than you do" face. They both looked back at her. She hadn't moved, was leaving it up to them. Dean decided.
"Maybe you don't, but you're dropping bodies all over the country. We gotta put you down," Dean stated, already lining up his shot. Right in the forehead, between her beautiful brown eyes. It wouldn't kill her, but it would hopefully give him time to try out the demon killing knife or to take her head with the machete.
Those same eyes darkened in resignation. "Remember that this was your choice, not mine."
Their guns fired almost simultaneously, but she moved almost too fast to see, spinning to the side of the stool. Her movement caused Dean's shot to miss, but Sam had been aiming lower. Blood spurted on the wall behind her as the bullet connected below her shoulder. She picked up the stool and launched it towards them. Dean and Sam dashed away, but it managed to smack into Dean's chest, flinging him to the floor. His back slammed against the concrete, knocking what little breath the stool had left him right out of his lungs. He heard Sam call out his name and raised a hand in acknowledgement. Talking wasn't on the menu right now. Several of his ribs were screaming bloody murder, but that was nothing new. What was that thing made out of, lead? He scrambled to his feet, looking around for Sam. He didn't have to look far, Sam was holding out a hand to help him up and he took it gratefully.
"You okay?" Sam asked, his eyes running over his brother in concern.
Dean nodded, hunched over, still trying to get his breath back. "Where is she?" he gasped out. He looked up to see Sam's eyes fixed firmly into the back of the building. Dean followed his gaze, seeing a shape moving against the darkness.
"She's running," Sam stated in wonderment. He had tracked her movements across the floor, a lighter shade of black against the darkness. He could see that she was heading toward what he figured was the back door, a pale gleam of light around the edges. Why was she running? She could have taken him out when Dean was on the floor, but she just bolted as soon as he went down. Nothing was making sense here.
"Man, this is so not like the last succubus hunt." Dean was unknowingly echoing Sam's thoughts. "That one was trying to tear us apart or fuck us to death in equal measure. What is this, a vegan succubus?" He was thoroughly confused by her actions. She seemed to have no problem killing people, bodies followed her like toilet paper on a sticky shoe, so why was she so unwilling to kill them? Not the time to ponder.
Giving Sam the "I'm good" nod, they pushed forward, Dean holding his left arm a little tighter against his side to support his aching ribs. He didn't like to telegraph an injury, but he didn't want to end up with a filleted lung either. Lesser evil and all.
"Not getting out that way. Come on sweetheart, let's just get this over with, huh?" Dean called out, focused on the vague shape of her against the door. He gingerly pulled out the demon killing knife, shoving his gun back into his waistband. She didn't even seem to notice the bullet Sam put in her, so there wasn't much point having it out.
She stopped shoving at the door abruptly. They heard a short bitter laugh echo through the empty air. She turned back to face them, eyeing the knife in Dean's hand. The bullets weren't really an issue, but the knife, while small, could eventually cut through a neck. He was itching to show her.
She launched at them, deciding that Dean was the greater threat. Grabbing him around the collar, she braced to throw him, but Sam was behind her, wrapping those long arms around her, jerking her back and breaking her hold on Dean. Dean slashed out, the knife connecting with her upper chest and she cried out as the familiar glow poured out. Yes, it would work on succubi, good to know.
There was panic in her face now, panic and desperation. Dean moved to plant the knife more firmly in her for a killing blow. Using Sam's hold on her, she lifted her legs to push Dean away, catching him right in his already sore chest. He flew back, crashing into a metal shelving unit. He grunted as he landed against the unforgiving metal, the ridges cutting sharply into his skin. It toppled over, taking Dean with it. The impact of it hitting the ground slammed his head back into the edge of a shelf. For a moment all he saw was white, felt nothing. Then pain exploded behind his eyes, a gasp tearing out of his throat. He fought against the swirling pain that was turning everything a spotty black. He tried to get his body to move, to get back to Sam, but it just wasn't listening.
"Sammy," he called out, his voice weak and trembling, and he grimaced at the sound. What a girl. He heard Sam respond, but couldn't make out the words. It was like he was hearing him from underwater. He forced his eyes open, then squeezed them shut again when the agony triplicated in his head, a low moan leaving his lips. He tried to rise off the hard edges of the shelf, but fell back as excruciating pain stabbed at his chest. Bile rose into the back of his throat as his stomach heaved. He turned his head to the side in panic, not wanting to pull a Hendrix. It felt like the top of his skull was sliding off. It was too much pain for him to fight on will alone and his body was done waiting for him to give it up. He was falling into blackness, his last thought of Sam alone with the succubus.
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