Chapter 10

Hangovers suck.

She was sure that's what she thought the last time she had one. Which was...Tuesday.

Her cell sang its annoying little ditty to her, signalling yet another missed call. She sighed and fumbled for it amongst the bed sheets.

She hoped it was Michael. But it was Fabiano. Again.

The family were biting her hard for some reason.

She rubbed her temple and scrolled her mind through the previous month's adventures. "Good...not so good. Okay the sailing instructor day wasn't the best idea, but the Realtor with the chronic gambling addiction totally rocked..!" She managed a tight smile, which soon disappeared when her cell sang again.

"Urgh!" She huffed as she stumbled out of bed.

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"Urgh!" he moaned.

His left cheek was against something hard and gritty.

His left thigh ached. Hell, everything ached – and he couldn't lift his head up. He listened to his own breath for a while and then, found the strength to roll himself over.

Someone was there. At the very edge of his sight. A fleeting blur of an image and a scuff of shoe on concrete. Dean wasn't alone.

"It's okay. You're safe," the voice said. Male. Young. Familiar.

He tried to find the connection. Between where he had been and where he was now. Now, he was in a warehouse. It smelt mostly of cement and dust. Before this, he'd been outside. Running back to the Impala after seeing the gas station again.

"Do you remember me..?"

Not a question Dean ever welcomed. It was either a female acquaintance...or a previous enemy he'd had the misfortune to run into again. Sometimes both at the same time. He propped himself up on one elbow and blinked hard in the dim light.

He looked like...the boy. The guy in the derelict...he looked after Sam, he was poor and it was months ago...

"Fab..?" Dean whispered.

"Hey, Dean." His gentle reply.

Half leaning against a wall. He looked relaxed. Confident in his...abilities, Dean thought. This guy had power. Supernatural power - and Dean had been so unwell the last time they'd met, he hadn't detected it. He was caught.

"What's the deal here? Did I get shot again..?" Stupid thing to say, but his mind was racing.

"No. No, you're...fine." Fabiano moved under a skylight and looked up. And for a moment...for a second...Dean thought he glimpsed a different silhouette than the one the young man's slight frame normally projected. Fabiano brought his gaze down. "But, I need you to do something for me."

Dean slowly, deliberately moved to sit up. Keeping a keen eye on Fab, he elected to stay on the ground.

"How did you get me here?" Direct questions sometimes worked.

"Doesn't matter."

"Are you a demon?"

"No."

"Shapeshifter, right?"

He didn't even acknowledge that one.

Dean swallowed and then blurted out a question, he didn't even see coming.

"Do you know where Sam is..?"

Fabiano made eye contact. "Maybe I do."

And then, he snapped his fingers...

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The gas station.

Dean found himself standing at the door of the gas station.

It was still night time, but the lights were on in the store. He pushed out a hand, half expecting it to sink into the 'apparition' in front of him, but his fingers touched the cool, dirty looking handle of the door.

"We're closed." Fabiano stated bluntly.

Dean snorted and remained cemented to the spot. He couldn't move, even if he'd wanted too.

Trickster. Fabiano, or that girl-witch was a Trickster.

"Are you her..?" he asked, barely able to cover the venom he felt whenever he thought of her.

"No. I'm not. But..." He trailed off before taking a breath. "Okay, Dean, here's the thing. I've got Sam, he's fine and he's safe."

Dean's stomach turned at the sound of his brother again. But he dare not move. Eager to hear Fabiano's words.

"She's my sister. The one that turned Sam into a boy." An embarrassed huff before offering: "We can do shit like that, you know."

Dean listened. Oh, he knew what Tricksters could do.

"She's young and impulsive, and my Gran...she can't control her. No one can."

In his mind, Dean could see her again. Sparkling eyes, clear skin and tangled, shining hair. Leaning over the counter. Far too interested in a very much older, scruffy, stinking-from-days-of driving guy like Dean.

"I brought you here to...to understand, that Sam is safe. But that's all he can be."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't change what she did to him, Dean."

"You sure about that?"

Dean could hear Fab changing his stance. Pacing through the conversation.

"Oh, I tried up in the apartment, when you were...recovering. I...I stopped using my abilities years ago, my sister was always way better than me."

Dean looked up at the top of the door. The faded welcome sign dangling on one screw.

"Do you know what you are?"

Silence. Dean waited.

"Not really," he admitted. "We don't have family. We did have someone, but he...well, he left us with my Gran when we were 3 or 4 and he never came back for us."

"What was his name?" Dean didn't care what their dud father was named, he just wanted Fab to keep talking.

"Hermes."

"Dude. And you never looked that up when you realised you could finger snap your way out of anything?"

Dean reeled himself in. The kid was somehow unaware of what he was. What they both were. Even now, he sounded confused. Obviously the Hermes guy had an idea...and God only knows what Grandma has been dealing with over the years.

"Look, I don't care what you are, Fab, really don't. I...I just want to see Sam. I mean, if you can somehow find a way to do that I'd...I'd..."

"You'd what, Dean? Quick, like a knife. "You'd not kill me and my family? Because I might not know what I am - but I sure as hell know what you are Dean Winchester."

Dean closed his eyes.

"You're hunters. You and Sam. You hunt people like me. And now I've got to stop you before you kill my entire family."

TBC