Chapter 12 – Pretty, Ain't He?
Cas had his eyes closed, his mind in peaceful meditation as he waited for word from his superiors. He was aware of the presence next to him on the empty park bench as soon as it appeared but didn't acknowledge it right away.
"Come now, Castiel, are you ignoring me?" Miniel's voice sounded in his head. "Isn't that rather childish?"
Cas sighed and pursed his lips as he turned to face the luminous form next to him. "I wasn't ignoring you," he huffed. "I am trying to seek revelation."
"Let me guess, the upper ranks are not being overly forthcoming with His wishes."
The angel in human form narrowed his eyes. "That sounded dangerously close to criticism, Miniel. I thought you had restored your faith in our Father and our brothers."
"I never lost faith in our Father," Miniel answered with the silent equivalent of a shrug. His failure to include their brothers in that statement was not lost on Castiel. "And I will never disobey an order again, Cas."
Cas let Jimmy's face show his surprise at the use of the nickname Dean had bestowed upon him. Of the angels, only Anna had taken to using it, her years of actually being a full-fledged human clearly influencing her ways of addressing her heavenly brothers and sisters. Cas would be hesitant to admit it, but he rather liked the shortened moniker.
A thought suddenly occurred to him and he studied his old comrade for a moment, contemplating the wisdom of voicing the accusation in his mind. He decided to do so.
"You have seen Anna," he said slowly, not phrasing it as a question.
Miniel did not outright deny that he had made contact with the fugitive angel, but instead turned the tables on Castiel. "I believe you are the one who has been speaking to our former leader," he voiced.
Cas frowned. "She saved my life," he defended. "Uriel had turned against us and our Father. He was killing angels."
"I heard," Miniel said gravely. "He would have had Lucifer rise again to his former glory."
"Glory?" Cas's voice deepened and his shoulders stiffened. "Our brother was far from glorious."
Miniel's glow intensified slightly in response. "He was wrong and he was blind to the beauty of our father's greatest creation," he said, "But one cannot deny he was breathtakingly beautiful. I only wish he could have understood humans as we do, Castiel. It was his downfall and surely will be again."
Cas relaxed somewhat. Miniel was one angel he could be sure would never share Lucifer's hatred for mankind. He returned to his former line of questioning. "Anna said she called in an old favour to be given the likeness of her human body," he said flatly. "That is something you are capable of doing."
Miniel stayed silent for a few seconds. When he did answer, his voice inside Cas's head was hushed, spoken as if someone was listening and he didn't want to be overheard. "When I was disgraced," he said slowly, "I could have been given death as a punishment. After all, I had disobeyed. Anna spoke up for me. She was the only one who defended my mistake and begged for leniency on my behalf. Giving her a human girl's body seemed like a small favour in return for my life."
"Do you think…" Cas started to ask but hesitated, unsure.
"What, brother?"
"Do you think the orders we receive are indeed coming from our Father?"
Miniel's luminescence shimmered, dimming ever so slightly as Cas posed the borderline mutinous question. "I don't know," he whispered in Cas's head. "But this time I will obey them. As should you."
SPN-SPN-SPN
The Impala pulled up next to Colby's Mustang right in front of the bar and the Winchesters stepped out with the usual double creak of the classic's doors. Josh stood at the foot of the steps and grimaced at the long line of tweaked and polished Harley's outside the place.
"What, you don't like bikes?" Dean joked, coming around to stand next to the blond man while Sam dug through the trunk for some appropriate weaponry. Dean, naturally, was already packing.
"Nah, it's just I didn't realize this was a biker bar. I seem to rub these guys the wrong way. They're a bitch to get any information out of."
Dean grinned, not doubting in the least that hard core bikers that rode the likes of the bad-ass beasts lined up outside this place probably wouldn't be very accepting of Josh's pretty-boy surfer look. In fact, they'd probably beat the crap out of guys like him for Sunday sport.
"I wish we had my sister here," Josh continued, folding his arms across his chest with a grin. "We could just throw a short skirt on her, send her in, and get whatever information we needed."
Dean raised his eyebrow but it was Sam that voiced his disapproval as he slammed the trunk shut and walked over to join them. "Dude, you pimp out your sister for intel?"
"Oh please, like you haven't flirted for information before! Dean does it all the time. It's the same thing," Josh defended. "I back her up."
Colby strolled past them and up the stairs of the bar to the well-lit porch, shaking his head. He had discarded the duster but still wore his cowboy hat and didn't seem too worried about wearing it into a biker bar. "You sister may be drop dead gorgeous, Jawsh," he grinned back at them, "but even her charms wouldn't hold much sway with this crowd."
Not sure yet what he meant by that, they followed him up the stairs where 'I Wanna Know What Love Is' by Foreigner was drifting out through the wooden doors. They stepped inside and stopped for a moment while their eyes adjusted to the dim light.
The bar was fairly busy and reeked of beer. Heavily tattooed patrons clad in mostly leather or denim sat around the barstools and milled about the pool tables. At first glance it seemed like many bars Sam and Dean had frequented over the years during their endless travels. That was, until Dean noticed a severe lack of women around. His eyes moved to the dance floor and practically bulged out of their sockets when they took in the many couples slow-dancing to the classic rock ballad. All-male couples.
"Holy crap! It's the Blue Oyster Bar!" he exclaimed, getting a muffled laugh from Josh, a warning glare from Colby, and a "What's the Blue Oyster Bar?" query from Sam, who had been too young to share his brother's childhood fascination with the Police Academy movies.
"Let's keep the gay jokes to ourselves, fellas," Colby scolded in a hushed voice. "Just play it cool." He looked over at Josh. "Don't worry, I'll tell them you're with me, Dawg," he winked before glancing back and frowning at the Winchesters. "Maybe you should hold your brother's hand," he said to Dean, his serious expression removing any doubt that it was indeed a genuine suggestion.
Dean looked at Sam, an apprehensive and uncomfortable look on his face.
"Don't even think about it!" Sam snapped, jerking his hand up towards his chest just in case his Dean got any ideas. He should have known that would never be the case for two seconds later, Dean's dumbfounded expression turned into a very amused smile as he took another look around the place.
They headed over to an empty table where Colby left them to go ask around to see if he could get a lead on the witches' supplier. "Just stay put," he warned, giving Dean in particular a stern look before wandering off towards a group of rather rugged-looking men at another table.
The three hunters did just that, hunkering down on their stools and trying way too hard not to look uncomfortable.
"Ah!" Dean said finally, tapping Josh's knee and pointing to the far corner where two attractive women were standing against the wall, beers in hand. "Now that's more my scene."
Sam laughed. "There's no room for you with those two, Dean."
Dean looked back to see the two women lean into each other and start making out. "Oh, I am so in there," he said, hopping off the stool and heading eagerly across the bar.
Josh rolled his eyes. "Even I know that ain't happening," he grinned.
Colby came back over, sliding into Dean's empty stool next to Sam. "Man we're lookin' for is Christopher Adams. He usually comes in around nine so we got a half hour to kill. You boys wanna head out and come back later?"
Josh gave Sam a subtle look that said 'Hell yes!' but clapped Colby on the shoulder. "Nah, we're fine here. We can stick around," he assured his old friend. "I'm gonna go get us some beers." He stood up and sauntered off towards the bar.
"Where's your brother?" Colby asked the remaining Winchester.
Sam pointed and Colby turned just as Dean made his way back to their table, rubbing his left cheek.
Dean slumped heavily onto the empty stool. "Well, that was a bust," he griped.
Sam tried unsuccessfully to hide his 'I told you so' chuckle. His smile, however, disappeared quickly when he turned in his seat and his hand brushed the pocket with his flask in it. The flask that usually contained Ruby's blood. A strong and sudden feeling of need came over him and he immediately started repeating over and over in his head that Ivan's injury must still be affecting him, not sure why he needed to convince himself of that fact. Dean and Colby were still talking but their conversation became a blur of voices in the background. He could hear his own heart beating loudly and it seemed to echo in his skull at an incredibly slow rate.
Sam stood up quickly, bringing his eyes sharply back to focus on the quizzical look Dean was giving him. "I, uh, I gotta use the can," he lied calmly and convincingly and strode off towards the back of the bar.
Dean chuckled, mistaking Sam's tense posture and stiff shoulders as discomfort of their surroundings. He turned back to Colby, who he noticed kept stealing glances over at the bar. Dean followed the younger hunter's gaze to see Josh, laughing amicably at the bartender as he waited for his drinks.
"Put your tongue back in, Texas," Dean quipped. "You're practically drooling."
Colby threw him a sheepish grin. "That obvious, huh?"
Dean leaned his elbows back on the table edge and looked thoughtfully over at Josh.
He snickered, "I'm not even sure that qualifies as gay."
Colby laughed. "So he's in touch with his feelings more than most men," he defended.
"He's in touch with his feelings more than most women," Dean retorted, shaking his head. "I don't get it," he teased. "You could have had Lex and you want that instead? Are you insane? Have you seen Lex?"
Colby raised an eyebrow at Dean. "Way I hear it, you coulda had the curvier Brenton yourself there, Slick. Why you lettin' one little mistake get in the way?"
Dean let out a snort but his jaw muscle tightened slightly, a sign of discomfort only his brother would have noticed had he been there. "You call what I did a mistake?" he answered in a quieter voice while keeping his eyes averted, pretending to take in the pool game going on at a nearby table.
"I dunno. A huntin' accident wasn't it? These things happen."
Dean turned sharply towards Colby, his brow furrowed in surprise. "What did Josh tell you?" he demanded.
Colby shrugged. "That you made a mistake and Lexie paid the price. I assumed huntin' accident. He said you felt guilty about it and that's why you're goin' along with this cockamamie plan of hers to go off on her own." He appeared to study the older hunter for a moment before narrowing his eyes accusingly. "So what really happened then?"
Dean was surprised Josh had played down what the Winchesters had done to Alex. If it had been the other way around and the Brentons had done the same to Sam, he would have beaten Josh to a bloody pulp by now. "Long story," he answered, deciding to change the subject since Surfer Boy was making his way back over with four beers in his hands. "Hey, Texas, you any good at pool?"
"Of course," Colby scoffed.
Dean's eyes lit up. "You up for a hustle?"
Colby shook his head, giving Josh a quick nod of acknowledgement as the blond man handed him a beer. "You can't hustle pool in here, Dean," he said sternly. "This ain't no drag queen karaoke dance club. These guys are seriously tough. Most of them are hunters and those that don't kill the supernatural, probably still kill somethin'. They won't take kindly to a…a…well, a guy who looks like you hustling them."
"Hunters?" That statement caught Dean's attention and his eyes immediately scanned the bar in search of Sam. "These guys are hunters?"
Colby nodded. "A lot of 'em. But, don't worry dawg, they don't know who you and your brother are."
SPN-SPN-SPN
Sam pushed open the swinging bathroom door with a little more force than he had intended, almost hitting an older guy who was on his way out.
"Sorry," he said quickly, throwing the man a tight-lipped smile that never even came close to reaching his eyes. He got a sharp glare in return but ignored it as he strode past him and quickly shut himself in the farthest stall from the door. He leaned his hand against the back of the stall door and slumped his forehead down on his bicep for a few seconds with his eyes closed. He breathed out a long, frustrated sigh and fumbled around in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and hit redial, grinding his teeth as he suffered through the seemingly endless rings.
"Leave a message."
"Goddamnit Ruby!" he spat into the phone. "I've left you three already. Call me!"
He snapped the phone shut and shoved it angrily back into his pocket, feeling the bulk of the flask in there as he did so. His fingers curled around the cool, hard object wistfully and he stood unmoving with his head down and eyes closed for a full minute, breathing deeply.
Finally he pulled the flask out, turning it slowly over in his hands as he stood alone in the stall. It was dead man's blood. Not demon blood. But maybe, just maybe…
He slammed his fist into the tiled wall, hating himself for the thoughts that were going through his mind. But that hatred wasn't stopping him. He couldn't believe what his fingers were doing as he watched them unscrew the cap of the flask. He stood and stared at the round, dark, open hole for a few seconds before he found himself tilting it up just enough to leak a few drops onto his index and middle fingers. He brought the red tips up to his nose, giving them a distasteful sniff before closing his eyes in shame as he pressed them to his tongue.
Nothing. It tasted disgusting, sickening even. And he felt nothing. No familiar rush, no increased senses or heightened awareness of his surroundings. No power, no strength, no fearlessness. Instead he felt only shame. He fought back tears as he screwed the cap back on the flask and shoved it hastily back into his pocket, slumping down on the toilet seat and burying his face into his hands.
Where the Hell was Ruby?
SPN-SPN-SPN
May 2009 (a week before Josh got out of jail)...
Alex sat in stony silence as she watched the video clip of her younger self in her Uncle's hospital jamming her own arm in the hinge of the bed. She had watched all of the security footage clips her uncle had given Sam, replaying them over and over again, still shocked into forgetting to breathe each time she watched.
"That's not what happened," she whispered.
"We know that now," Bobby's voice sounded gently from behind her, snapping her focus back from the real memory she had of hurting her arm that day. A memory that consisted of Red-Eyes snapping her elbow back and twisting it cruelly, his claws piercing the skin and drawing blood as he squeezed every ounce of pain he could out of the maneuver.
Bobby reached forward and clicked the media player closed in an effort to dissuade her from watching the creepy scene again. He had started out by letting her listen to the 9-1-1 recording from Detroit that Red-Eyes had made in her voice after things had gone badly with Isaac and Tamara, then had worked his way up to the videos. "We already told you he can monitor video feeds and phone transmissions," he explained. "It seems he can manipulate them too."
"How?"
"Honestly, I dunno. He's not the only supernatural being that can do it, although he's definitely the most sophisticated I've ever come across. Crocatas can do it, as can some poltergeists on a more basic, static-sorta level."
"What about the guy from the convenience store robbery?" Alex asked him. "He saw Red-Eyes. I told Dean about that."
Bobby realized with a start she was still trying to understand how he and the Winchesters had come to the mistaken conclusion that her monster was all in her head. He bit his lip and hesitated for a second – he hadn't really wanted to get into this part of it all.
When Sam had first brought his suspicions about Red-Eyes not being real to Bobby's attention, the two of them had combed every piece of evidence they had, making phone calls and online searches well into the night to dig up whatever else they could. They had not reached the conclusion she was crazy lightly and without exhaustive efforts.
Dennison's private notes in Alex's file mentioned that when she was fifteen, the girl had been caught in the middle of the armed robbery of a convenience store. She had claimed at the time that when the two men had grabbed her as a hostage and were making their getaway, her shadowy monster had shown up in the alley behind the store and violently killed the young man who had been holding the gun on her. His accomplice had been charged with the murder.
"Uh, he pled guilty in court," Bobby explained. "Had a low-rate public defender and got himself twenty-five years."
"Why would he plead guilty?" Alex had a pained expression on her face. "I would have corroborated his story."
Bobby grimaced. "Well," he continued, "since we found out your Red-Eyes is real, I started wondering the same thing and I've been digging a little deeper. It seems your family was sorta well-to-do."
"Yeah, you could say that," Alex admitted, still not sure what her family's wealth would have to do with anything.
"It seems your Daddy had some pull with judges and the like and between him and your uncle, they got a ruling preventing you from having to testify. The guy would have never won if it had gone to trial. I'm guessing his lawyer told him as much and he pled guilty to get a lower sentence."
"What?" Alex's eyes widened as she started to put two and two together.
The mechanic shrugged. "They were just looking out for you."
"You're telling me this guy has another seventeen or so years to go when all he did was rob a store?"
Bobby raised a disapproving eyebrow at her compassion for the thug. "He held a gun to a fifteen year old girl," he pointed out, hoping she would drop the subject.
"No he didn't," she said adamantly. "His friend did. And trust me, his friend paid for it. Red-Eyes tore him to pieces." She looked guiltily at Bobby. "It's my fault he's still in jail. I never even asked my parents what happened to him." She had preferred not to think about that afternoon at all. It had only been the second time she had witnessed a violent, bloody death and had had nightmares for weeks.
A look of determination crossed her face. "What can I do to get him out of there?" she asked, thinking if anyone could figure something out, it would be crafty ol' Bobby.
Bobby winced. "M'fraid that ain't gonna be possible, Lex," he informed her solemnly. "He got on the wrong end of a shank two years ago in the prison yard. He's dead."
Dean had mentioned to Bobby that Alex held a lot of guilt over her parents and the other hunter being killed by Red-Eyes in retaliation for her attempts to kill him, but until he saw her face at that moment he hadn't guessed just how much. He didn't share her sentiment that the store-robbing punk deserved any more than he had received, but the man's fate had clearly hit a nerve.
She turned wordlessly back to the laptop, clicking open the media player again and watching one of the videos for the fourth time. Bobby remained silent behind her, struggling to find something comforting to say but came up with nothing. When it was over, she turned towards him.
"I gotta admit, it's all pretty convincing," she said quietly, sounding defeated. "No wonder he…" She cut herself off, looking away quickly.
Bobby was certainly intuitive and had no trouble guessing she had been referring to Dean. So far, they had managed to avoid the topic of the elder Winchester almost entirely. "You know," he defended softly, "he's really tearing himself up over what happened. He dropped everything to get you out the second he found out he was wrong. No, WE were wrong," he corrected. "It wasn't just Dean. People make mistakes, kiddo."
"I know, Bobby. Logically, I know he meant well. Heck, after seeing all this stuff, I can understand how bad it looked. But that doesn't make it hurt any less every time I think about that day. I just can't erase that feeling. My whole life people have thought I was crazy. But not hunters. Never a hunter." Her eyes locked back on Bobby's soft brown ones. "And why couldn't you guys just tell me? Why the ambush?"
The older hunter had known he was going to have to face up to these questions at some point. Actually, he had expected it far sooner. He breathed a sigh of resignation before answering. "We were pretty sure we were right," he shrugged. "And we knew there would be no convincing you. In all honesty, would you have agreed to turn yourself in? Would you have ever gone peacefully?"
Alex shook her head. No matter what evidence they had shown her, she never would have believed Red-Eyes was a delusion. He had been far too painfully real to her for twenty years.
"Well, Dean wasn't too keen on wrestling you in himself and Sam and I didn't want to put him through that so we convinced him this would be the best way." Bobby felt a need to defend Dean. "Dennison insisted it would be quick and easy," he added, throwing her an apologetic look. "From what I hear, it didn't turn out that way and for that, I'm sorry kiddo. We really thought your uncle was right."
Alex looked back at the stilled last frame of the video on Bobby's laptop. "How do you know he's not?" she asked. "What made you realize I'm not crazy?"
Bobby perked up, a sly grin spreading across his face under his beard. "Well, we have it on very good authority that Red-Eyes is real. A friend of the boys saw him in a…a vision of sorts."
"A psychic?" Alex wrinkled her nose. "How do you know it's not just some crackpot?"
Bobby chuckled. "From what I hear, he may very well be a crackpot, but his visions are very real and accurate as Hell. They come from the highest possible source." He pointed upwards. "You see, Chuck is a Prophet of the Lord."
Alex gave him a blank look. "Say what?"
"He's a bonified Prophet. The next Luke. He dreams whatever Sam and Dean are going to do and writes it down and it all happens, word for word. Those Winchester boys are pretty important in all this Apocalypse crap and he's apparently writing the Winchester Gospel."
There was a brief silence. "Seriously?" Alex grinned, thinking Bobby must be making this up. "The Winchester Gospel?"
Bobby shrugged. "It's the truth, I swear."
Alex took another moment to let it all sink in. When she spoke again, she was no longer smiling and looked genuinely confused.
"So this guy sees Sam and Dean in his visions," she said slowly. "Well, Red-Eyes has never been around when Sam and Dean were there so howcome he saw him or me? God wouldn't care about me, why would he bother showing that to Chuck?"
Bobby frowned, deciding he would have to address the 'God wouldn't care about me' crap at some point. "I got a couple of theories on that one. First, maybe God does care about you." He gave her a pointed stare but could tell from her scornful look that she wasn't going to be convinced of that anytime soon. Twenty years of being hunted and hurt would take more than one conversation to erase. He sighed and continued. "Or maybe it's because the angels have plans for Dean and need his head to be in the game. If Red-Eyes had killed you, he would have been chewed up with guilt and that wouldn't have worked out so well for their master plan." He shrugged. "Maybe they showed Chuck so he'd tell Dean. Stop you from getting killed."
Alex thought about Bobby's words. She knew Dean well enough to know he would have felt remorse and some culpability had he indirectly caused her death. But she doubted it would have been enough to throw him off his mission to save the world and stop the Apocalypse.
That theory didn't hold a lot of water for another reason also. "Red-Eyes doesn't want to kill me," she pointed out. "That's why he made that 9-1-1 call in Detroit after he sliced my wrists in temper. That's why he killed that guy in the alley. He just wants me to feel pain but not to die."
Bobby sighed and pulled her patient file open, flipping through the pages until he found the ones he was after. He handed them to her, explaining as she read them. "I got some leads," he said. "It was actually your uncle that dug 'em up. He found four other patients that had the same condition as you." His eyes rolled at the word 'condition'. "Only the clueless bastard didn't stop to wonder why the delusions were all exactly the same."
Alex was reading as Bobby continued talking. The first page was a psychiatric case study on a Jennifer Mollender dated 1952.
SPN-SPN-SPN
June 2009
It was now a quarter after nine and still no sign of Christopher Adams, the witches' supplier. The hunters were on their second round of beers, still keeping to themselves at their table and trying their best to ignore the glances and the occasional wink various patrons were sending their way. All four having the keen observation skills that came naturally to seasoned hunters, they were all aware of the acute interest a particularly large and gruff looking biker had been taking in the group and weren't all that surprised when he put down his pool cue and approached them.
He strolled up to them with a look on his face that mostly resembled nervousness, turning himself sideways to squeeze through the narrow space between two nearby tables. He walked up to Dean, who was standing with his elbow on the high table, leaning back and taking a casual sip of his beer. "Excuse me," the man said, looking down at Dean from a good six inch advantage in height.
Dean held his hand out in front of him, palm hovering inches from the man's barrel of a chest. "Keep movin' Pal," the hunter said sharply. "I ain't interested."
The man's eyes narrowed to angry slits as his shoulders stiffened in obvious offense to Dean's remark. "Don't flatter yourself," he snarled, "'cause I wasn't lookin' to talk to you." The heavily tattooed biker ignored the snort of a laugh Josh was unable to stifle from his seat across the table. "I was comin' to see if this guy would like to join me for a game of pool." He gestured past Dean to Sam, whose eyes widened in sudden, terrified discomfort as the man peered past his brother at him.
The guy gave Sam a hopeful smile before pulling back suddenly to address Dean again. "Uh, unless he's with you, that is," he retracted.
Dean's 'protect Sammy' instinct came in a far distant second to his sudden eagerness to see his brother squirm. "Nope," he grinned, stepping aside gallantly. "He's definitely not with me."
Sam threw his brother a traitorous look before giving the large man a quick, apprehensive smile. His flustered mind was still racing to come up with a polite way to let the guy down when Colby stepped in and rescued him.
"He's just come off a bad relationship, Briggs," Colby said, throwing a friendly arm out to block the biker's advance. "He ain't lookin' for company tonight."
Briggs threw Sam a questioning look. Sam gave him an apologetic shrug, deciding Colby was his new best friend.
"Yeah, alright Hutchins," Briggs conceded, giving Colby a respectful nod before heading back over to the pool table.
Josh's shoulders were still shaking with barely-contained laughter. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Sam sulked.
"Oh, I'm not laughing at you," Josh grinned. "I'm laughing at your brother getting shot down by both men and women in the same night."
Dean scoffed. "Hey, I could score in here if I wanted to," he insisted.
Josh's rebuttal was cut off by the approach of another man. Unlike Briggs, however, this guy was quite small. Every inch of his short, wiry torso that wasn't covered by the tight Harley Davidson muscle shirt was tattooed with every symbol of the occult imaginable. He stepped timidly up to the group, eyeing the three strangers suspiciously as he addressed Colby.
"Hutchins," he greeted with a nod of his head. "I hear you were looking for me."
Colby reached out and gave the guy a friendly handshake. "Hi Chris," he drawled. "Long time no see."
"Yeah, yeah," the man fidgeted, clearly not one for small talk. "What d'ya need?"
"Just some information. Word is you supplied a local witch coven."
Chris shrugged. "I supply a lot of people. Witches, psychics, hunters." He glanced at Colby's three colleagues in turn. "Your friends hunters too?"
"Yes, we are," Dean answered for them before steering the conversation back to the reason they were here. "This particular coven was five young girls. Julie, Ginny, Amber, Kim, and their leader Ella."
The guy directed his attention to Dean, giving him a long, nervous stare before answering. "Yeah, I supplied them. Why?"
"Sorry to break it to you but they're dead," Josh offered politely. "And we need to figure out what they were up to. What kind of spells they were working on."
Chris again paused, this time to give Josh a cautious once over. Evidently he decided the blond man was less intimidating than Dean, for he appeared to relax a little as he redirected his next answer at him. "They were pretty small-time. You know, fortune spells mostly. Ella was the only one I met. She used to come in here about once a week and order the basics."
"Nothing out of the ordinary?" Colby pressed.
"Well, there were a couple of specialty items recently. Just last week, actually, she picked up Scandinavian Dagga Weed. And a couple of weeks before that she asked for Crybroggia root but I couldn't get any," the supplier admitted with a shrug. "I told her she didn't want to be messing with that stuff but she may have kept looking. I just figured she'd made a mistake with what she needed for some little contest-rigging spell. That's some serious dark shit, Hutchins," he said to Colby with a warning tone.
"What are Dagga Weed and Crybroggia root used for?" Sam asked, his natural curiosity kicking in as well as his drive to find a lead on the ritual to raise Netiran.
Chris shrugged again. "This particular Dagga's used in demon-summoning and locating as well as some other things but always requires some kind of sacrifice to work... usually human. As for Crybroggia, I have no idea but I know it's powerful, hard-core stuff. Definitely not minor league." He folded his arms, shuffling his feet in a manner that suggested he would like to end this interrogation. "So, Ella's coven, they're all dead?" he asked quietly.
Colby nodded. "'Fraid so."
"Demons?"
"Yep."
"Well, you watch yourself, friend. I've been hearin' a lot of stories these days about demons. Some believe even angels are taking notice of them and are walking among us now. Bad days to be a hunter."
Colby gave him a nod of acknowledgement for the warning. "Bad days to be tangling with witches," he said in an equally disapproving tone.
"Yeah, well, at least I make an honest living," Chris retorted, giving the four hunters his first hint of a smile, even if it was a sarcastic one.
"So Ella never mentioned anything about a ritual she was planning on doing?" Sam interrupted, realizing they had gathered no really useful intel at this point.
Chris shook his head. "No. Sorry. She didn't talk much."
"Alright, thanks Chris," Colby slapped the small man on the shoulder. "If you think of anything else, give me a call, huh?"
"Yeah, I will. Nate still got your number?"
Colby nodded tersely.
"He know you're in town?" the small man asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not yet," Colby shrugged, clearly ignoring the spark of interest that comment got from Dean and Josh. Chris gave them all a quick smile and wandered off.
Josh turned immediately to Colby with a grin. "You got a boyfriend, Cole?" he teased good-naturedly.
"Of course," Colby grinned back, unfazed. "Several."
Dean chuckled. "One in every town, dude," he said, nodding in approval. "That's the way to do it." His smile suddenly disappeared as he realized how that sounded and he shot an awkward glance at his brother and Josh. "But with chicks, of course."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Can we get going, guys?" he urged.
"What, you don't wanna stick around?" Dean teased. "I'm sure Briggs would love to buy you a beer."
Josh laughed. "Well, he definitely won't be buying you one," he said to Dean.
Dean's laugh turned to a scowl. "I don't see you getting any offers, Dimples."
"Only 'cause I'm not looking for any."
"Yeah, well that crowd over there at that table," Dean tilted his head sideways towards a table of men playing poker, "has been checking me out all night."
Josh looked over at the small group. "Oh please," he scoffed. "They were trying to see past your raggedy ass to get a better look at me."
Colby held up his hands, silencing the escalating smack talk. "Are you guys seriously arguing over who could score first in a gay bar?" he asked incredulously.
Both Dean and Josh had the decency to look sheepish but Sam released a loud snort as he drained his beer, standing up. "Don't be surprised," he said, grabbing his jacket. "These two turn everything into a competition."
Dean threw his brother an indignant look. "Only because Bhodi hasn't been able to beat me at anything yet," he defended.
"I'm waiting for the right moment," Josh jeered.
They were all standing and slipping their arms into their jacket sleeves when they noticed the three guys from the poker game were on their feet and looked as though they were heading this way.
"God-dangit," they heard Colby mutter. "Let's go fellas," he said, ushering them hurriedly towards the door.
"What's the rush?" Dean said instinctively, not wanting to look like he was running away. Cowardice wasn't an acceptable look for him these days, especially when his brother was watching. He would never forget Sam's stinging words spoken under the siren's influence.
Colby gave him a gentle shove from behind, pushing him towards the bar door. "Well," the Texan explained urgently, "when you bring two T-bones and a lamb chop into a place like this, you hafta expect things are eventually gonna get a little rowdy."
Josh and Dean both snapped their heads to face each other as they made their way to the exit. "T-bone!" they both called, raising their hands. A second later they both turned grinning to face Sam, clearly uniting against the younger Winchester in the tease.
Sam let out an annoyed huff and his nostrils flared as he pulled on a classic Sammy pout. "No way!" was all he got out before Colby was shoving him too towards the door.
SPN-SPN-SPN
May 2009
Alex scanned the case files her Uncle Bryce had placed into her own file as reference cases while still listening to Bobby's verbal summary of what he had found out so far, absorbing the overlapping information with fascination and rising excitement. Dennison had found four people who had all suffered from 'Persecutory Delusional Disorder', the diagnosis he had given his niece. Their supposed delusions were unbelievably similar to Alex's own experiences.
The first, Jennifer Mollender, started seeing her red-eyed, shadowy monster when she was a child back in 1939. There were no witnesses to corroborate her stories, naturally, and her family, believing she was repeatedly injuring herself, institutionalized her at age fifteen. The behavior continued until she threw herself out of a third storey window and died at age twenty-two. No conventional methods of treatment were found to be effective and the girl's psychiatrist was completely baffled.
The second case study was more thorough and more recent. It was a man in Illinois named Gary Shultz who would now be fifty-two had he not committed suicide at thirty-four. Bobby sneered at the use of the word suicide, not seeing how anybody could believe a man could kill himself by choking himself with his own straight jacket. Again, no witnesses. As for the delusions, the story was the same. This time, however, Gary's shrink had included some interview transcripts and Alex's jaw dropped as she read them. This guy had claimed to be able to sense ghosts. A freak mojo, just like her.
The third was a woman in her forties, currently institutionalized in Minneapolis. Similar history but still alive. Bobby cut off Alex's eager suggestion to go see her. "I already did," he admitted. "If she wasn't insane then, she sure as hell is now. Crazier 'n a shithouse rat. Besides, we can't risk you getting' too close to any of his other…uh…"
"Chewtoys?" Alex offered with a chuckle, amused at Bobby's timidness. For a tough old guy, he sure was sweet.
The mechanic gave her a disapproving frown. "Whatever you call it, it ain't a good idea."
The last was another man, this time in Louisiana. His 'monster' had started attacking him when he was a young teenager and the violence of the attacks had steadily escalated as he grew older. His mother had refused to institutionalize him, believing his delusions were, in fact, real. Alex smiled as she read that part. "Way to go, Momma," she whispered under her breath. The man, Matthew Petraues, and his mother had disappeared, apparently deciding to run, much like Alex and Josh had. They had turned up several years later in a police report from Kentucky when Matthew was found dead, the apparent victim of a violent home invasion.
"I already went to see his Mom," Bobby explained. "She had a lot of stories but really didn't know any more than we already know."
Alex couldn't speak for a few minutes, reading and re-reading the papers in her hands. "I'm not the only one," she finally breathed in disbelief.
"Nope," Bobby agreed. "Seems your S.O.B. has been around for a long time and has a few names on his stalking list. Seems to like people with some sort of psychic ability. This Matthew guy's Mom claimed he could sense emotions from other people. These are just the ones your uncle dug up, the ones with records in the psychiatric community. There's likely plenty more he don't know about."
"But if there are so many, why don't hunters know about it?" Alex asked, perplexed. "If there's one thing I've learned about hunters, it's that they sniff out these kinds of things. They see patterns. None I've ever spoken to had ever heard of anything like Red-Eyes."
"Well," Bobby answered, "I'm thinking there's just one of him. If he was a species, we would know about him. So I'm figurin' your friend's the same one who terrorized these four unfortunate souls too. And to top it off, he's a smart 'un. He goes out of his way to make it look like his victims are plum crazy." Bobby flinched at his involuntary use of the word 'victim' before running his hand through his beard with reluctant admiration of Red-Eyes. "If a hunter had come snooping around, they woulda decided pretty quick it was a dead end. Lotsa leads do end up just being crazies. Hell, he convinced us," he admitted. "Your Red-Eyes only comes when you're alone. He alters the videos to show you doin' it to yourself. He toned down the cuts and bruises while you were in Oceanview, using…" Bobby struggled for less graphic words, "…using other means of causing pain with less visible damage."
Alex nodded in thoughtful agreement. "But you had said earlier you thought he might have killed me," she pointed out. "Do you think he killed these people?" She held up the papers to indicate the previous victims. "And if he wanted me dead, why would he call 9-1-1 when he sliced my wrists?"
"I don't think he wants you dead," Bobby corrected. "But I do think he's got a temper and he's bound to get over-zealous eventually. Matthew's mom said he got extra angry when Matthew fought back. From what I can gather, the same goes for you."
Alex nodded again. On the many occasions she had tried any sort of supernatural weapon against him, Red-Eyes had definitely dialed up the physical damage meter. Over the years, she had shot him with silver and consecrated iron, blasted him with holy water and an assortment of dusts and potions that various hunters had suggested, tried to trap him in quite a few different supernatural-type traps, and attempted many spells, chants, exorcisms, and rituals. All any of them had ever succeeded in doing was getting the bastard madder. Mad enough to slice her wrists or stab her with a screw driver. Mad enough to kill her parents and put her brother in a coma. Mad enough to pull Bill Harvelle's insides out and throw him down on the ground in front of her.
"So what's our next move?" she asked, changing the subject.
Bobby grinned and leaned over her to the laptop mouse. "I've been lookin' and lookin' and haven't come up with a damn thing," he admitted. "But Ellen sent me this today." He clicked open a pdf file of some pages of hand-written notes. "Seems her husband was lookin' into your monster quite a few years back, 'fore he died. He had this in his journal."
Alex noticed he didn't mention that Bill Harvelle had died while hunting her monster but was in no way going to bring the subject up herself, so she read the scrawled notes on the screen in silence, Bobby standing behind her waiting patiently with his arms folded. As she moved her attention to the text of the email Ellen had sent along with the information, she couldn't believe what she was reading.
They had a lead. An honest to God lead. It was Red-Eyes' turn to be the hunted one!
SPN-SPN-SPN
June 2009
Outside, the four hunters fanned out on the porch, clearly annoying Colby who was still trying to herd them towards the cars.
"Geez, Texas, I'm movin'," said Dean as he received a none-too-gentle shove from the cowboy in the direction of the Impala.
Josh grinned as he strode around to the Mustang's passenger side. "See ya back at the motel, Lamb Chop," he called to Sam, whose already pink shade turned a deeper red. His pout couldn't get any bigger if he transplanted Jagger's lips.
"Let's just get going, shall we?" Colby urged, clearly not finding this as amusing as the three straight men seemed to be finding it. He waited until Sam and Dean were in the Chevy and Dean had her purring loudly before he started up his Ford and backed up in the small parking lot, slipping the Mustang quickly into the busy city traffic. Dean was right behind him, waiting for another opening in traffic so he could follow when he noticed a man in a beige trench coat standing outside his driver's window next to the row of bikes.
He braked quickly, backing the Impala's nose in off the street before shutting her off and getting out.
"Cas! What the hell are you doing here?"
"I didn't want to startle you from your back seat again," the angel said politely.
Dean rolled his eyes as Sam came around the front of the Impala to stand next to him. "What's up?" Dean asked, deciding now wasn't the time for an explanation of acceptable 'popping in' etiquette.
"You lost the last witch."
Dean's shoulders slumped and he leaned back on his car. "Yes, we're aware of that, Cas," he snapped. "But thanks for the reminder."
"If Netiran is resurrected, the sixtieth seal will be broken," Cas continued, oblivious to his charge's sarcasm.
"Look, we know that," Sam interrupted, seeing no need to waste time throwing around the blame card at this point. "We were trying to find any of the four monsters being used in the ritual but we're not having any luck."
"Yeah, seems the demons snatched up the vampire a few hours ago," Dean added. "Got any hints on where to find any of the others?"
Cas pressed his lips together and pulled on a slight frown as he sighed. "No," he said simply.
"Well, we've been trying a different approach," Dean carried on, hiding his disappointment that the angel had nothing to offer. "We figured if we can find out any information about the ritual itself then we may still be able to intercept it."
Cas's frown smoothened out slightly and he nodded his head slowly. "The ritual must take place at dawn," he offered.
"Okay, that's a start," Sam encouraged. "Anything else?"
"That is all I know," the angel replied, turning his intense stare towards the younger Winchester. "Like I said, they…"
"They don't tell you much. Yeah yeah, Cas, we get it," Dean cut him off, frustrated. "You're just a stooge."
Cas's frown returned but he didn't take the bait.
"Oh crap," Sam said suddenly, looking past Cas towards the bar entrance. Dean followed his gaze to see Briggs strolling towards them through the small parking lot, a beer in his hand as he sidled between two Harleys.
The elder Winchester couldn't help but laugh, though he suddenly found the huge man's persistence vaguely threatening and his 'protect Sammy' instinct returned from its brief hiatus.
"Hi again," Briggs smiled sheepishly at Sam as he came to stand next to Cas, dwarfing the angel even more than Sam did. Cas took a step backwards and turned to face the newcomer, an impatient look on his face showing how he felt about the interruption.
"Uh, hi," Sam eeked out, uncomfortably.
"Listen, I understand about needing some time off," the large man said directly to Sam, ignoring the two other men. "But I just wondered if, you know, we could maybe get a cup of coffee sometime. No expectations, no pressure, but I won't take no for an answer."
Dean rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure he'd used that very line on more than one occasion after receiving the brush-off excuse about 'just getting over a bad relationship and needing some space'. Actually, it had worked for him every time and he'd never even had to follow up with the actual coffee-date. But this guy was huge and was moving himself far too close to Sam for the young hunter to take him out without at least getting a black eye in the process. If a fight broke out in the parking lot, God knows how many of this guy's buddies would come rushing out to defend him, so Dean decided to make up for his earlier betrayal.
"Listen Buddy," he stepped in front of the tattooed biker. "I'm real sorry about what I said earlier, but you see, me and him," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Sam. "We are together, okay. We were just having a spat."
"Oh," Briggs looked genuinely disappointed.
"But hey, don't be so glum," Dean perked up, giving the giant a friendly shoulder thump. "'Cause I happen to know that this guy right here is single and he's definitely looking for some company tonight," he grinned, gesturing towards Cas, who had an impatient but slightly curious look on his face.
Briggs turned to study at the angel, whose blue eyes widened in wary confusion at the scrutiny.
"Pretty, ain't he?" Dean urged, suddenly in a good mood again. Even Sam's shoulders were shaking with silent laughter as he stood grinning next to his brother, for once enjoying one of Dean's practical jokes.
"My name's Briggs," the biker offered, extending his hand towards Castiel and clearly deciding to go for the supposedly easier mark. "What's yours?"
Cas looked down at the giant hand for a second before taking it slowly. "Cas," he said simply, allowing the vigorous handshake.
Trying his hardest not to giggle like a schoolgirl, Dean backhanded Sam's chest and jerked his chin as instruction to get going. Sam obeyed by moving back round to his side of the car, watching Cas's obvious discomfort with amusement as he ducked his head and sank back into his usual leather seat. The moment's levity had temporarily erased the gnawing thoughts of Ruby's blood and he suddenly realized why Dean and Josh had found his earlier predicament so hilarious. Of course, a joke was always funnier when you weren't the butt of it, but he had to admire his brother's unwavering ability to find life's more amusing side even in the darkest of times. He remembered as a child thinking that was one of Dean's more awe-inspiring and heroic traits and wasn't sure when it had changed to be simply a sign of juvenile immaturity.
"Cas? Is that short for anything?" he heard Briggs say as Dean opened his driver's door and got back in the Impala.
"You two have a fun night," Dean called cheerily out of his window. The grins on both Winchesters' faces were wiped off immediately, however, when the angel simply reached up and touched his forefinger lightly to Briggs' forehead. The big guy slumped heavily to the ground next to the car and the angel promptly disappeared with that vaguely fluttering sound.
"Oh crap," Dean groaned, noticing a couple of bikers exiting the bar. He slammed his foot on the gas, wanting to get out of the lot before the men noticed their unconscious fellow patron. "They are so gonna think we did that." The Impala shot into traffic and weaved its way hastily forward towards the Prince Albert Motel. "I'm gonna kill Cas," Dean announced, checking his rear-view mirror to make sure no angry bikers were following them.
Sam was laughing. It was almost an unfamiliar sound to Dean by this point and the older hunter found himself relishing the experience, the pleasant sound lessening his worry of pursuit.
"You can't blame Cas. That was totally on you, Dean," his younger brother pointed out, shaking his head.
Dean grinned back. "Yeah, I suppose it was," he admitted.
SPN-SPN-SPN
TBC...
Next chap: Bobby and Alex head out on their quest to figure out what Red-Eyes is and tensions run high when the Winchesters get back to business as they scramble to stop the ritual...
