Disclaimer: I do not own the concept or characters from the show "Supernatural." Any other characters not related to the show or the Nightwold series, however, are mine and are not to be used in any other fan fictions. Some concepts were also borrowed or loosely adapted from L.J. Smith's "Nightworld" and "The Vampire Diaries" series. This chapter has information on the episodes up until 04/23/09. I will not include any spoilers for future episodes of Season 4 until they are released on TV. This is the start of a new trilogy. The first trilogy is: "Possession," "Broken," and "Sacrifice," followed with a new trilogy, starting with "Mission." This story takes place following the events in "Mission," and has the same characters from the first trilogy. I do not own any quotes used in the actual episodes.
Dean stared in disbelief, arms across his chest, as the four teenage boys ogled his daughter. They watched her inside the waiting area of the garage, looking through the glass at his daughter workin' on their bike. One of the morons drove one of those crotch rockets. Way to look like a big, bad dude by riding a pussy bike.
April was bent over it, fixin' whatever was wrong with the handlebars. Apparently, the guys could see down her jumpsuit from that angle.
"Look at the titties on that piece of ass," one kid whispered to another, elbowing him.
"Good, she is so fucking bangable," the other whispered back.
Dean twisted the rag in his hand hard, pretending it was their necks. He tossed it down on the counter and approached the gang of morons.
"Can I help you," Dean interrupted, stepping out from behind the customer service counter.
"Nah," one started. "Just waiting for my bike. The babe said it would be ready today."
"Well, 'the babe' was wrong," Dean smirked. "We don't have the part."
"But she said-"
"And I said, we don't have the part. Come back in a week," Dean chuckled.
"But-"
"Thanks," Dean said, lending his hand out for a handshake. As soon as the boy took it, he pulled him close. "By the way, that piece of ass in there is my daughter. Come back and act like a punk again, and I'll fuck up your world. Got it?"
Scrambling away as quickly as possible, all four took off in one car.
Assholes.
April looked up from her work in confusion as Dean entered the main part of the garage.
"I thought they were waitin' for the bike? I'm almost done," she mused, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
"They'll be back in about a week." He smiled at his daughter and tossed her a spare towel to remove the smear of grease from her cheek.
"Daddy," she rolled her eyes. "What did you do?"
"Doin' what dad's are supposed to do. Protect you from douchebags like that."
'Like how I used to be,' he reminded himself. "You're just lucky I didn't kill 'em."
"Dad, I'm not a cream puff. I can totally handle myself," she smirked, throwing the towel playfully back in his direction.
"Good to know," he joked.
"So, about that case I told you about last night; I wanted you to look at-"
"April, I don't know," Dean interrupted.
Before he could argue with her, she jogged over to her car. She returned with a folder spewing with papers.
"Here," she said, forcefully putting the folder in his hand. "That's all the info I could pull up."
"April," he sighed, running a free hand through his hair. "I don't think this is a good idea. No, I know it's not a good idea."
"Come on, Dad, just take a look."
Dean sighed in defeat and skimmed through the folder. She had put together a pretty damn impressive case file. The folder had information dating back to a similar case years before. He had to admit, she had put together a hell of a file.
"So, these people are," he asked, flipping through the paper clipped papers.
"Just disappearing," April said, only pausing to chug back some water. "They get home from school and then…they're just reported missing. No obvious signs of struggles. Nothing."
Weird…but not that weird. Maybe they were just runaways. Teenagers seemed really angst-ridden, even more so than when he was younger. Hell, even more so than Sammy.
"I wouldn't be that concerned except it doesn't seem random, Dad. I mean, a group of teens at my school don't seem like a great target for the supernatural."
"April, no one really is," he smirked. "Any other useful info?"
She went on to explain that one house had an iron fence running the whole way around. Well, that ruled out demon, at least for all of the kids.
"It can't be a ghost going from house to house," she thought aloud.
"Could be a Bloody Mary type thing," he jumped in.
"But that would mean they'd all have something in common, right? An object or-"
"Someone they knew or pissed off."
April shot down the idea. The kids were a clique but they were relatively nice.
"A.C., all it takes is one psycho at school to get looked at the wrong way. Maybe someone just got set off."
"Dad, they haven't found a body. Not one piece of these kids. I went to Lindsay's house, telling her parents I was a close friend and that I wanted to say goodbye. They kept her room the way she'd left it. I went through there was an EMF and holy watered the shit outta that place. Nothing. No smell of sulfur either. The only weird thing was what looked like scratch marks on the floor-"
"Wait. Did you say scratch marks on the floor," Dean asked, his mind going a mile a minute. She nodded yes. "Were they comin' out from underneath the bed?"
She tilted her head curiously.
"Yeah, how did you know?"
"I think I know what we're dealin' with."
"Great! I'll go change and get my tools and we'll go take care of it," she bounced towards her car.
"Woah, woah…who said anything about you takin' care of it?"
"Dad, it's my case. I'm runnin' the show here," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Oh really," Dean said, becoming annoyed with his smart-ass daughter.
"Yeah. So, you can either help or go home."
"Well, how 'bout I just go home and tell your Mom what you're up to," he threatened. "You think she'd wanna know you're doin' hunts by yourself?"
April rolled her eyes.
"Dad, come on! I'm just tryin' to help here! People are gonna keep dying if we don't do something about it." She approached Dean and gave him her best puppy dog eyes. Shit. He was a goner. "Please, Daddy. I need your help."
He sighed deeply, wishing she didn't have that damn power of hers.
"Fine," he sighed in defeat. "But, we're doin' this my way. Got it?"
"Yeah, got it."
"Good, get your stuff and let's go. I'll call your mom and let her know what we're doin."
"But Dad," April protested. "Why does Mom gotta know?! She's gonna shit a brick."
"Because I'm not gonna lie to her anymore and she needs to know just in case we need her or Sammy as backup."
Abby watched Jamie like a hawk, tuning into his mind when she got the chance.
"What, Mom," he asked, worriedly staring at her.
"Nothin' sweetie, just waiting for a call from your brother," she feigned a smile.
"Ok," he said before running up to give her a hug. "I missed you, Mom. Promise that you'll never go away again?"
His question brought up her conversation with Dean the night before. She still hadn't forgotten his request for her to stay. But, what was she going to do, tell her son "Sorry Mama is going to off herself once your Daddy leaves?"So, she answered the only way she knew how to placate her worried child; she said of course she would always be there. In essence, she hoped that would be the case either way.
Jamie smiled at her and ran off to play upstairs with his friend; human friend.
"You're worried about him," Ruby asked, taking a seat by her in the kitchen.
"I am. Dean told me about the whole 'talking to dead people' thing," she sighed, swirling the warm blood in her coffee cup with her finger. "Needless to say, I'm extremely worried. I really wanna talk to your husband, but he's not picking up his calls."
"I know," Ruby snapped back, catching Abby off guard. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I don't mean to be bitchy. I'm just tired and cranky."
Abby told her not to worry about it, that she also remembered what it was like being hormonal. Both Dean and Sam had taken the brunt of her verbal abuse during her term with the twins.
"I just hope this won't last the whole time," Ruby mused, taking a sip of water.
"Well, you still feel off, but at least the morning sickness goes away," she smiled reassuringly.
The creaking of the screen door sounded from the entryway. She could tell who it was just from the sound of his approach, and apparently so did Ruby; she stiffened up like a statue.
'Please don't tell him,' Ruby thought, her eyes searching Abby's
"I promise I won't," she whispered. "Why don't you go lay down in my bed and take a nap, ok? I'll have Sam wake you up later so you don't oversleep."
Ruby nodded and proceeded to head up to Abby's bedroom.
"Hey," Sam said, his hands in his pockets as he stood in the entry to the kitchen.
"Hey, Sam," she smiled back, patting the seat next to her.
He ran a hand through his hair as he sat down.
"Hey, Ab," he said, before looking around the room. "Where's my wife?"
"Upstairs sleeping. She's feeling a little better though. She was worried about you. You didn't come back last night."
Sam put his head on the table in obvious exhaustion.
"I know," his voiced muffled on his arm. He went on to give her the run down on what happened at Cas' place, including his nice little 'chat' with Zachariah.
Abby knocked her glass onto the floor at the mere mention of the angel's name, spilling its grisly contents.
"Shit," she swore, as she hurriedly cleaned it up before Jamie could see the blood on the floor. After wiping up the remains of the stain, she sank back down into her chair, her head in her hands. "But…why would Zachariah be 'watching' Jamie?"
Sam's lips tightened into a line, his eyes meeting Abby's with intensity. His mind was open to her and we was only thinking one thing;
Because he's mine, Abby.
What was that supposed to mean? So…he was Jamie's biological father. So what? That's when the image of Jamie with yellow eyes flashed through Sam's mind, and it all clicked into place. Even after the exorcism, the angels were keeping an eye on Jamie's apparent innate potential to turn evil.
Hesitantly, Sam reached his hand across the table and gently took one of Abby's hands. His thumb sweetly stroked the back of her hand. Before he spoke, Sam choked down some tears.
"I'm sorry," he sighed. "Abby, I'm so sorry."
It was the first time he had verbally apologized to her about what happened. He had only thought it before, and she knew just from his mind how sorry he really was. She didn't want to force him to say it. But there it was, strewn out across the table.
"Sam, you don't have to-"
"Abby, I do."
"We've been over this. It wasn't you who did that to me," she tried to smile at him.
"Yes it was," he replied stiffly. "I opened myself up to it. It was my fault." His hand squeezed hers tighter.
"Ok, so what it if it was," she whispered forcefully, leaning closer across the table. "It's over and done. And if it didn't happen, there wouldn't be a Jamie. Things happen for a reason."
"People only say that to give reason to why bad things happen to them, Abby," he shot back. "That shouldn't have ever, ever happened to you."
"Well, it did," she said, pulling her hand back sharply. "It happened. Do you know how much it took at first to even be in the same room as you?! When you came back to us, all I could picture was you pinning me down, you ripping my clothes off…"
She paused to get a handle on herself. Abby closed her eyes, the images of her attack filtered through her mind. It wasn't Sam, she reminded herself over and over. It was the demon that took over. That's what violated her.
Her eyes opened again, she hesitantly looked at her brother-in-law. His mouth was drawn in a tight line, his brows furrowed with concern. His eyes were pools of despair.
"Sam, it's ok," she sighed. "It's over and done. And I mean it; it wasn't you. I know that…you should know that too."
"You may forgive me," Sam struggled to speak. "But I will never forgive myself."
"Well what we need to do right now, Sam, is protect Jamie. We need to keep a closer eye on him, ask him more questions…we need to make sure it can't happen again."
Sam nodded in agreement. He took her hand again, patting the back of it, using his free hand to wipe his eyes.
"I don't deserve to have you in my life," he sighed and chuckled. "I really don't. Or Jamie…or Ruby. Anyone for that matter. This right here, this self-loathing, is exactly why I don't want kids. And now that I know I could pass Azazel's blood onto my kids? I'm going to make damn sure it doesn't happen again."
'Well, Ruby is going to have a field day telling him her little bit of news.'
"Wake up," a voice ordered him. "You need to eat something."
Slowly, Dylan opened his eyes only to stare at the cheap fake-tin ceiling of an old hotel room. The light shining from the table next to his bed burned his sensitive vision. He rubbed his face as he sat himself up, taking inventory of his surroundings. Yep, he was right, he was in a hotel room…and he wasn't alone.
"Dylan, are you alright?"
He turned to the direction of the voice to find a worried vampire on the bed. Jesse was seated on the edge of the opposite bed, staring at him with great concern.
"I've been better," he answered, his voice hoarse.
"You need to eat something, to keep your strength," Jesse said, tossing him a handful of takeout menus. "Pick something and I'll go get it for you."
"Um…thanks," Dylan replied with some confusion, as he perused the stack of meal options.
"I'm not sure what's considered…good food to humans, so I grabbed everyone they had in the lobby," the blonde vampire smirked.
"No, this is good," he said, picking something off a menu. "I think I'll just get this chicken dumpling soup with bread."
"Ok," Jesse stood and stretched. "Anything else?"
"Water maybe? I'm not feeling too well," he said, his muscles feeling achy like it did when he had the flu.
"Well, just rest. I'll go get you your food."
Jesse left and Dylan had time to survey what had happened. He remembered the scuffle in the bar, then he had gotten hit? His mind couldn't really recall what happened next. All of his thoughts were pretty foggy.
Registering his aching body, he carefully got out of bed and headed to the shower. Maybe the warm water would help him focus.
He passed the mirror on the way to the shower and gasped. Dylan leaned across the bathroom counter towards the mirror, his hands pressed against his neck, feeling to see if his eyes were playing tricks on himself.
Nope, there they were. Two clean puncture wounds.
"Well, looks who's up?"
Dylan turned around and stared at Wes. The dark haired vampire stood in front of him, his arms across his chest, a proud smirk and amusement playing on his face.
"You son of a bitch," Dylan said, his hands still on his throat. Before Wes could say anything, Dylan lunged forward, knocking the vampire to the ground and punching that smirk right off of his face.