Oh, yeah, everything is unbeta'd. All my mistakes are my own. Also, didn't do quite as many re-reads and edits so there will probably be more mistakes than usual.
Disclaimer: Kripke owns all Supernatural characters. Teen Wolf characters belong to Jeff Davis. I'm only borrowing them.
Pairing: Dean/Derek - very graphic. This is my second attempt at something like this because this muse wouldn't leave me alone. Please let me know what you think, constructively.
Overall Warnings: Rated Mfor swearing, graphic sexual content with alpha/omega undertones, implied forced sex of a curse/spell origin and other adult subject matter.
Author's Note: This should be the last rehash chapter as everyone should be caught up after this. Hopefully it's not too bad, or boring.
- SPN - TW -
Chapter 11 – Unwelcome Surprise
"Wake up, Dean!" A harsh voice barked closely into his ear. He felt the warm breath ghost over the side of his face and groaned in frustration then grumbled in slurred response into his pillow without opening his eyes, "'ive 'ore mun . . ."
He didn't even take the time to attempt to identify the voice's owner or worry of its intentions. He was that freakin' sleepy. He curled tighter around his pillow and exhaled slowly. He willed himself back into the cool calmness of dream land where nothing was after him for once and he was at peace with everything. It was the only place that he could possibly be at peace with everything.
"Damn it, Dean," the insistent voice returned forcefully and added physical movement as it gripped his right shoulder and yanked him over on to his back.
"Damn it, back off, Sa . . ." Dean griped automatically with a raspy voice before his brain woke up enough to catch up to his mouth. His eyes flew open as he amended with the visual confirmation, "Uh, Derek." He ran a hand over his face then peered up at the irritated wolf and reflexively went on the defensive. "What the hell? What's the emergency?"
Derek's eyebrows flew up and his green eyes widened in surprise at the attack before he scowled and repeated irritably, "What's the emergency? The emergency is that I've been trying to wake you up for the past two hours. Your five minutes has played out several times over. At least your eyes aren't glowing anymore."
Dean grumbled in response, "Oh, please. You just now tried to wake me up and it wasn't even five minutes ago. What the hell do you mean, 'at least, my eyes aren't glowing'? My eyes don't glow, Cujo. That's your thing, not mine. And get the hell off me."
Dean shoved the wolf off of him and swung his legs over to sit up on the bed. He was surprised that he wasn't in more pain than he was, considering he felt like they'd had yet another marathon sex session. He wished he could remember all of it, not that he'd relived them during the lonely nights ahead of him, or anything remotely like that. After all, he wasn't a woman. But, still, he'd like to have all the memories because . . . yeah, well, he just would, damn it.
He glanced back and griped hotly, "You see how tired you would be if you didn't have that supernatural healing crap that you stupid wolf people have. You'd better bet your ass that you'd be tired, too. Oh, and, hey, what the hell happened to taking turns, like you promised?"
"Well, I would have," Derek sniped back acidly, "if you hadn't jumped my bone each and every time we took a breath, insisting that we still hadn't done it right."
"What the hell does that mean?" Dean shot back acidly with unsettling confusion and wariness, considering he didn't remember any of that. "How the hell did we do it wrong?"
"Have no clue," Derek scoffed testily. "Your body acted like you orgasmed each time but you didn't come every time. In fact, the times that you didn't come seemed slightly painful for you but your eyes were glowing white each time so I'm not sure if that had anything to do with it or not. I'm guessing that Cas was using your bond during those times since they kinda looked the same as when you cast those spells. Am I right?"
Dean scowled with increasing frustrated confusion and in the end all he could do was repeat vaguely, "My eyes were glowing . . ." He paused then caught the ending and hissed irritably, "Wait. Cas? Damn it. Yeah, yeah, I remember now. It started during the first time and, damn, did that add to it but I'd rather keep that just between us. His sense of timing still seriously sucks. Always has. Even after being human. Somewhat."
"Do we need to contact him?" Derek wondered aloud, despite the fact that he really didn't want to. He also wanted to keep things just between them. But he'd learned to be a realist the hard way and he knew realistically they weren't meant to be.
"No," Dean decided firmly. "No, if he hasn't made contact with us, it could be because Metatron's not convinced. Signaling him might tip the asshat off. No, we'll wait unless we have an emergency."
He stood up slowly and stretched without concern of his current state of undress. He felt his wolf's eyes drinking in the sight. It was a sensation that he was very familiar with but all the creaks and pops as his bones realigned detracted slightly from the mood. Damn, did he feel old.
He shrugged it off mentally and scratched his head while he shuffled to the bathroom, asking curiously, "Heard anything from the kids yet?"
"No," Derek answered easily and rolled out of the bed then stretched as well. He walked over to the bathroom door frame and leaned against it as he watched the hunter, waiting for the inevitable explosion. He wondered aloud what the plan was as Dean finished with his business, flushed then brushed his teeth.
"Deaton," Dean stated around his toothbrush. After he spit out the toothpaste and rinsed, he added, "We need to figure out a way to counter that spell. If there is one."
"You're not sure," Derek hypothesized uncertainly. "Why?"
"Call it a hunch right now," Dean evaded vaguely. "If it pans out, I'll explain. If not . . ." Dean trailed off as he glanced in the mirror to check his reflection for toothpaste and the possibility of a shave. He frowned slightly when he spied two separate ridge sets of teeth marks, seriously reddened but not bleeding or scabbed, before he cautioned shortly, "You need to watch the teeth, Cujo. Getting close to signing our death warrants."
"Yeah, about that . . ." Derek started uneasily in a low voice.
Guitar riffs sounded in the room again. Dean ordered, "Hold that thought." Then he frowned and wondered aloud because he honestly couldn't remember at the moment, "Where's the hell is my phone?"
"I'll get it," Derek offered with a sigh, knowing the other conversation should probably wait until Dean had at least had his coffee, as he turned and walked back into the main room.
Dean followed behind and riffled through his travel bag in his search for clothes. He sensed Derek close to him before he saw the phone thrust into his field of vision. He mumbled his thanks as he pushed the answer button on the touch pad. He didn't know the number that had been displayed but he was in a new town with unknown parties. He answered easily, "Yello?"
He found some boxers and jeans while he listened to the response which was, "Dean?"
"Yeah," he answered tightly as he pulled on his clothes then searched for his normal t-shirt and an over shirt.
"It's Argent," the voice informed him briskly. "The sheriff and I were wondering if you could come down to the morgue."
Why is it that no one ever asks me out for a steak dinner? Or, hell, breakfast even? Dean wondered cynically to himself. Or, at least, he thought it was to himself but a glance at Derek made him wonder in light of the slight smirk displayed on the wolf's face.
"Dean?" Argent prodded curiously, reminding Dean that he hadn't actually answered the other hunter yet.
"Yeah, sure, what's up?" Dean questioned curiously. "Is it urgent?"
"Could be," Argent evaded mysteriously then prodded pointedly, "How long?"
"There goes my shower," Dean mumbled under his breath then lowered the phone to ask Derek the same question when Derek answered his unasked question, "About twenty minutes away." Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise but went with it for the moment, considering he had Argent on the phone.
"Is there somewhere to pick up food on the way?" Dean verified hungrily.
"Yes," Derek responded abruptly while he got dressed as well.
Dean moved the phone back up to his mouth and told Argent, "Give us thirty."
"Us?" Argent replied suspiciously but Dean just hung up and slid his phone into his pocket. He quickly dressed despite the comment, "I really should take a shower first."
"You smell fine to me," Derek offered truthfully from his position by the door.
"I bet. Not helping, Fido," Dean grumbled sarcastically under his breath, now knowing exactly what the wolf was talking about, while he quickly armed himself, including his Colt in his jeans and the angel blade in jacket sleeve holster, and then packed all of his stuff into his bag.
After one last glance around the room to make sure he got everything, he shouldered his duffle and followed the wolf out of the room. He unlocked his baby's trunk and tossed his bag in before heading to the office to check out. He didn't really need to check out but he wanted to stay as close to his story as possible because Sam was always great at picking up on Dean's lies.
He returned to his baby to see Derek leaning casually against the side of it and, no, his heart did not skip a beat, only to beat faster afterward. He wasn't a freakin' girl, damn it. No, sir, he sure as hell wasn't but he could honestly admit in a completely straight guy kind of way that this wolf was hot.
Crap, he really should have taken a shower, he cursed mentally as he felt warm liquid seep out a bit from a part of his body that really shouldn't be doing that. Except it was because of last night's activities.
"So, what motel are you switching to?" Derek asked curiously while he walked around the Impala to climb into the passenger side.
"Probably the one on the other side of town," Dean hypothesized easily while he angled into his baby. "It's closer to the . . . what was it called again? Nem . . . Nemo . . . something."
"Nemeton," Derek corrected.
"Whatever," Dean dismissed airily while he backed out and inquired hungrily, "Which way to food?"
"Left," Derek replied quickly.
Dean turned accordingly while he prodded suspiciously, "Which reminds me, how did you know what I was about to ask you earlier? When I was on the phone with Argent."
Derek glanced at him curiously before pointing out like it was blatantly obvious while he pointed to himself, "Wolf, Dean. Have wolf hearing."
"Wolf hearing," Dean repeated absently as he tried to assimilate what exactly that meant. He wasn't coming up with much but then again he hadn't had his morning cup of caffeine. He shook his head as he spotted a fast food drive through. He pulled in and ordered for both of them, making sure he got a large coffee. If his night's kept up like they were going, he'd probably have to having it put into an IV to stay awake.
When they were on their way again, Dean prodded carefully in between bites, "So . . . wolf hearing means that you can hear the other side of phone conversations?"
Derek narrowed his eyes at his hunter while he chewed what was in his mouth. He knew where Dean was going to end up with this and he debated whether or not to let Dean know the truth, considering how much his hunter tended to hide from him all the time. But since he had several questions about last night's phone conversation and he had a feeling that Dean would never tell him about it, he swallowed what was in his mouth then answered lightly, "Yes. We can hear that, especially if we are in the same room."
"And if you're not?" Dean pried uneasily.
Derek glanced up and saw that they were at the hospital which gave him the evasion that he suddenly needed. "We're here. Ready?"
Dean eyed him suspiciously before allowing the diversion, "Fine, but we will discuss this later."
They grabbed up their drinks and finished off the rest of their food as they exited the car. Dean followed the wolf into the hospital entrance, taking in the scenery and people as he went, just like his father taught him. They were met right inside by Scott's mother.
They all nodded to each other briefly before she directed stiffly, "This way." She took off down the left hallway followed by Dean. Derek trailed behind, also carefully taking in the surroundings.
Dean glanced at the patients and staff that passed by until his eyes made contact with a female staff member wearing pink scrubs. She was really beautiful with bright green eyes and curly black hair that perfectly matched her Asian complexion. She was well built and just Dean's type.
They held eye contact as they passed each other and he could sense what she was going to do. He'd been through this sort of thing several times before. Normally, he welcomed this attention and, in fact, lived for it. But this time, he was filled with a sudden, weird, 'bad', 'wrong', 'not right' sense, like the 'bad touching' feeling that he got from that strange non-supernatural world Balthazar send him to.
At the last minute, he pulled his arm back behind him and out of her range of touch but couldn't help staring at her after she passed. He noticed that she looked back as well with an almost crushed expression. Strangely, it didn't move him, at all.
"Really, Dean?" Derek hissed irately into his ear, clearly informing Dean that he'd observed the entire interaction.
Dean glanced at him in vague confusion before looking back where the worker had been, but she was gone. He frowned heavily, wondering what the hell was going on with these 'feelings' which way stronger than his normal gut instinct. He wished he knew what it meant or that it would just go away, or both. His life was complicated enough as it was, damn it.
"Problem, gentlemen?" Melissa prompted impatiently at the two standing men. She was obviously waiting on them at the end of the hall with her hands on her hips. She looked like she was about to start tapping her foot any second now.
"Dean?" Derek prodded irritably.
"Oh, can it, Balto," Dean sniped back in the same tone, not willing to discuss this right now. The damn wolf could have that answer when Derek answered his earlier question. He turned and easily caught up to Melissa with his long strides with a very irritated Derek following behind him.
Within a couple more turns, she pushed open the door labeled, "Morgue" and walked in. They followed and quickly spotted the sheriff and Argent standing by a covered corpse on the left hand side of the room, furthest from the door. There was another covered corpse on the first table but apparently they weren't interested in that one.
Dean strolled over to the head of the corpse, taking another drink of his rapidly cooling coffee, before he asked curiously, "So what's up this lovely California morning? Where are the kiddos?"
"School," Sheriff reported briskly. "Where did you think they were?"
"Hmm," Dean shrugged without concern. "Well, with all this going on . . . if they are anything like me, that's the last place they'd be. But, of course, that's where I'd always said that I would be, otherwise, dad would kick my ass."
"What are you saying?" Melissa snapped irately. "Scott's not skipping. He knows school is important."
"Sure," Dean agreed vaguely, and without an ounce of sincerity or conviction. "Yeah. Of course, it is. At least, it is for kids who don't have the supernatural coming after them and continuously interrupting their lives. You know, the kids who actually have a chance at living a normal life."
"Are you saying you didn't go to school?" Stilinski demanded with disbelief.
"Of course, I'm not saying that," Dean scoffed irritably. "Dad always told us how important it was. Tanned my hide and ranted about it more than once when he caught me skipping. It just wasn't my thing. Not me, at all. It was more Sammy's thing. He's the smart one. Got a full ride to Stanford and everything. I . . .," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I just had more important things to worry about."
"What could possibly be more important than school?" Melissa snapped back irritably.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe . . . surviving," Dean replied in kind. "The supernatural doesn't have set business hours, you know. It's not an extracurricular activity and it sure as hell doesn't care if you have a test tomorrow while it's trying to kill you tonight. Plus, there was always rent and food and other things that require money which doesn't exactly grow on trees . . . hell, never mind. Doesn't matter anyway. What have we got?"
Sheriff Stilinski arched an eyebrow at the quick change of subject before he pulled back the sheet, revealing a dead young woman with short red hair. There was distinctive bruising around her neck but nothing else obvious on her body. There were no autopsy cuts on her yet so Dean still wasn't sure why he'd been called here.
"Suicide?" Dean verified clinically at first glance.
"Yes," Stilinski answered tightly.
"So?" Dean prodded impatiently before taking another drink and wishing for his shower again.
"It's the third suicide in this hospital this month," Stilinski informed him with emphasis.
"So, way above your seasonal average, huh?" Dean clarified with interest as his eyebrows rose in surprise then he nodded in understanding. He questioned abruptly while he examined the body closer, "Where any of them really successful? Like overnight successes about ten years ago?"
He walked around the body, taking it all in, while the others frowned over the questions. Finally, Stilinski denied with confusion, "No. They had normal jobs and were only admitted for normal problems. She was here for an appendectomy."
Dean glanced at the surgical wound and commented to himself, "So, no demon deal." He frowned thoughtfully as he walked back to his original position near the head, sucking down the rest of his coffee as he went. He set his coffee down on a countertop nearby then inquired, "She report anything strange? See anything strange? Hear anything?"
"She, well, she, yeah, she, uh, said that something was in the walls," Melissa reported uncertainly. "She was also hearing whispers of something."
Dean pulled some gloves on but glanced at her and prodded with intense interest, "What whispers? Like hearing the truth? The whole ugly uncensored, destroy-your-mind type of truth?"
Melissa's eyes widened at the questions before she shook her head and told him, "I don't know. As far as I could tell, she never understood what was being said."
Dean exhaled with relief while he once again thought aloud to himself, "Okay, so probably not Veritas, thankfully. Good. Hated that creepy bitch and her creepy, freakin' cats."
"Veritas?" Argent questioned curiously.
Dean glanced over before refocusing on the corpse's head. He reported clinically, "Truth goddess. If she's summoned and anyone in the area asks for the truth, they get slammed with it until they finally kill someone, or themselves. She then feasts on their remains as tributes, and I don't mean 'Hunger Games' type of tributes. But, you know, now that I think . . ."
He moved the head to the side and carefully moved the hair out of his way until he spotted it. "Crap," he sighed with resignation.
"What?" The sheriff demanded impatiently.
Dean glanced around then grabbed a pen out of Melissa's scrub top. He ignored her gasp of indignation and carefully moved the pen into the hole. He encountered no resistance for the whole length of the pen. All those in the room leaned over to observe what he was doing.
He exhaled heavily then informed them cynically, "Okay, gentlemen, you're dealing with a wraith. It's like a human but not. It pretends to be one of us because you can only see their true form in a mirror, or reflection. They like hunting in places like these because their prey is confined and generally not believed."
"What do we look for?" Melissa demanded pointedly.
The sheriff and Argent tried to argue with her offer for help but Dean shot it down all together. "No, you aren't going anywhere. In fact, Derek's going to stay here and watch you."
"I am?" Derek verified with dubious surprise.
"Like hell," Melissa argued hotly. "This is my career here. If this is about me being a woman . . ."
"It's about you working here," Dean cut in caustically. "As far as I, and you, know you've already had contact with this thing and been compromised. They have the ability to make you see anything they want with a simple touch. They use that to get you stewing in your own juices literally because they love to suck that out of you." He pointed to the hole in the corpse's head. "They get the brain marinated in a bunch of chemicals for a day or two then they suck you dry. If you looked at the brain in her head, it would be a shriveled up piece of dried jerky."
"What kills it?" Argent prodded briskly.
"Silver to the heart, like most things," Dean reported in kind. "They have some kind of spike thing that is sheathed in their wrist. They use that to feed with so if it's out and you break it off, be prepared for a brain juice shower which isn't too fun and kinda stinks, like most things on this job."
"Now," Dean continued impatiently, ready for the hunt, "have either of you two been touched by anyone in here, as in skin to skin contact?" He directed the question to the sheriff and Argent.
"That's why . . ." Derek started suddenly then trailed off.
Dean shrugged in answer, knowing what the wolf was about to say, then relented slightly, "Got a weird feeling from her. Something about her was too . . . I don't know, maybe . . . perfect." He shrugged again for emphasis.
"You saw it?" Stilinski questioned with amazement.
"Not sure," Dean evaded truthfully. "Could be but won't know until I find it again. So who's clean in here?"
"Why am . . ." Derek started again but Dean interrupted impatiently, "Because if it was her, she knows who I am and why I'm here, why we're here, and she knows where the evidence is being kept along with the coworker that was leading us here so Melissa is the one in the most danger and needs the most protection. That's you, Cujo."
Derek arched his eyebrows and wondered hesitantly, "Are you leaving something silver with me?"
"Yeah, right, like you'd even be able to touch it, if I did," Dean retorted meaningfully. "Besides I know how you like to sink your teeth into things so go with last night's plan."
Derek narrowed his eyes at the pointed taunt then verified tightly, "Decapitation?"
"Yatzee, Bingo," Dean taunted mockingly, ignoring Derek's warning growl over going with that particular dog joke. "That should keep it busy enough until we get here to finish it off."
He refocused on Melissa and inquired seriously, "Is anyone else, patient or staff, reporting anything strange? Whispers? Movement in the walls?"
"Uh, I think there's a lady upstairs in one of main rooms. I don't remember the number," she answered hesitantly. "I could answer that better if I could return to my computer terminal."
Dean turned to the sheriff and questioned tautly, "Can you make it safe for her there, so that she's not moving around?"
"Think so," Stilinski replied confidently.
"Okay, handle that," Dean ordered dismissively then checked with Argent. "Got silver?"
"Always," Argent replied abruptly.
"Of course," Dean scoffed sarcastically then glanced at Derek one final time before he spun on his heel and left the room with Argent trailing behind. He didn't need Derek to wish him luck or tell him to be careful. Somehow, he felt it deep inside.
Once outside, he motioned with his hand and prompted abruptly, "After you, Argent. You definitely know this place better than me."
Argent nodded then turned to his left, offering, "Elevators this way." Dean fell in step beside him. After a couple of steps, Argent commented informally, "I hope you know what you are doing, Winchester."
"Don't worry," Dean dismissed easily. "Ganked the last one. Will get this one, too."
"That's not what I'm talking about," Argent clarified meaningfully.
Dean shot a glance over to him and quickly realized that denial would just eat up time they didn't have so he bit out tightly, "That's none of your business, Argent. You've got way too many other priorities right now to be wasting your time focusing on remote possibilities."
"If you think it's only a remote possibility, you obviously don't know Derek Hale," Argent growled out harshly. "You also don't know squat about wolves if you're ignoring the color of his eyes."
"If you have something to say, spit it out," Dean ordered tautly.
Argent stared at him a long moment before he tested tightly, "Do you even know what his eyes mean?"
"You have evidence, or names, or is this just based off of eye color?" Dean demanded as he swirled around to actually face the older hunter.
"Do you?" Argent countered irately.
"I know some, but obviously you have an issue, so either share or shut up because we have a hunt and I need to know where you stand before I give you my back," Dean stated adamantly.
Argent glared at him for a moment then reaffirmed tightly, "I have your back on this and any other hunt, until you give me a reason not to."
Dean nodded in acknowledgement but was by no means satisfied. He knew he'd do his best not to turn his back on the hunter if he could help it at all. He turned and continued to the elevators with Argent by his side once again, his current resolve firmly placed in his mind. He pushed the upstairs button as soon as they got close enough then moved to the side to watch everyone passing by both with his eyes and with the mirrors that were mounted high at the corners. Argent stood next to him doing the same thing after observing Dean for a moment.
At the ding, Argent glanced at the elevator and moved slightly to watch the doors open. Dean waited to turn when he heard the doors open. He watched in the mirrors as people exited the car. He narrowed his eyes and moved to enter the car in such a way that it knocked a female nurse back into the car with him. He pushed the highest button and ignored her as she exclaimed in anger. He tried to block Argent from getting in but he was already before the doors closed.
Argent glanced at the reflective metal walls and saw that he was in the elevator with Dean and something that looked like the Crypt Keeper. He briefly heard the sound of metal sliding on metal then saw Dean attack the wraith before the wraith realized that her charade was over. Even so, she managed to block his attack with the angel sword. She slammed Dean into the other side of the car. Dean grunted in pain but otherwise ignored the impact as he continued to maneuver the angel blade in the hopes of getting past the wraith's defenses.
Argent grabbed his knife from its sheath and stabbed it from behind, aiming for its heart but missing due to the struggle. It hissed and threw Dean into the other wall then swung around with a backfist to Chris's face, knocking him against the wall next to Dean. It pushed the next floor button before turning around to find Dean shaking off yet another head shot.
It kicked him in the face right as the elevator dinged. The doors opened and it shot out of the car but got tripped up when Dean lunged forward and grabbed its foot. It hissed and yanked its foot out with Dean attached to it. It shot into an upright position and reached down to grab Dean around his throat.
Dean felt the wraith's hand close around his throat and mentally groaned at the skin on skin contact. He so didn't want to go down this route but then again, that was how he got to the last one. He reflexively reached up and grabbed the tightening hand on his throat. He tried to get a grip on its thumb to try a thumb lock. He managed to loosen the hold enough to get a breath before he moved to stab the wraith again. He was thrown sideways into another wall and felt his head hit it on impact. This time he slid down it blinking vaguely as he heard the fight in the distance.
He tried to shake off the dizziness but he felt the hallucination start and knew it was going to be ugly after the last couple of days. He heard his wolf's roar of rage and saw it charge the wraith. Unfortunately, Derek completely missed the fact that Argent was foregoing his knife and aiming his gun at it. Argent fired his deadly shot as his wolf crossed directly into the field of fire.
"No!" Dean's anguished denial echoed loudly throughout the hallway as Derek's dead body fell at his feet.
- SPN - TW -
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and let me know what you think.