Chapter Eleven:
Sarai woke up with an intense itch on her arm, just behind her elbow. R'kenoth, why is my arm irritated? Even as she asked, she craned her neck and twisted her arm, trying to catch a glimpse of the afflicted area.
//I managed to heal that scratch you got, but the new skin is still in the initial phase of growth, and the scab will be itchy for some time.//
Thank you, I think. Sarai was intensely grateful to the Tok'ra for saving her life, but she had not yet become fully accustomed to sharing custody of her body. There were definite advantages, but at the same time you were no longer really in charge of 'your' body. You know, Reken, sometimes I do not mind letting scratches heal the slow way; I do not want you to tire yourself needlessly.
Before R'kenoth had a chance to reply, they were distracted by Sam's agitated manner as he did something with his cell phone on the other side of the room.
"C'mon, Dean, where are you?" Sam had gotten a voice-mail from Bobby regarding a potential case, and mentioned that he'd been unable to get a hold of Dean. Sam had chalked this off as part of Dean's night out on the town, but when he'd tried calling this morning, the phone went right to voice mail after a few moments. Now on his third attempt to reach his older brother, Sam couldn't help but be worried. Not with all the things they had chasing them.
"Sam, what is wrong?" Absently itching her elbow, Sarai came up to stand next to the anxious man.
Sam glanced out the window, as if the Impala would be summoned by his gaze to the parking lot. "Um, it's nothing. I just can't get a hold of Dean, that's all. But I'm sure he's just ignoring my calls. I mean, it's not even 8 am yet." Even as he spoke, Sam realized that he was trying to reassure himself as much as Sarai. He forced a smile. "Why don't we go find a restaurant and eat breakfast? It would serve Dean right to miss out on it, after he ditched us last night without a second thought."
"Okay!" Sarai practiced one of the slang terms she had picked up, and was pleased to see the fake smile on Sam's face turn into a real one. "I would like to try waffles."
Somewhere near Roswell, NM, the dark interior of a cabin
Dean was first aware of the pounding in his head, and for a moment wondered whether last night had actually been worth it. The chick had been hot, but if he'd gotten as wasted as the headache indicated…
Then he remembered: I never even got to second base! Well aware now that something was wrong, he cautiously opened his eyes. "Fantastic," he tried to say, but there was a gag in his mouth, and it came out more "fmphafk." Don't tell me I'm tied to a chair…Dean rolled his eyes. Bad guys were so unoriginal. He looked around the room, searching for clues as to who had captured him and why. All he remembered about the previous night was passing out on his way to the car, after the museum guy'd helped him out the door…
That punk! He couldn't believe it. The kid looked like he was barely out of high school, why would he kidnap Dean? There was no way he could think all this was worth a ransom, and a mugger wouldn't bother with kidnapping. What the hell was going on here? He tried to go through a mental list of the enemies he and his family had made in the past few years, but everyone he could think of was either dead, or wanted him that way. This was definitely not the normal MO of the things they hunted.
The cabin seemed to be the average, non-creepy kind used by hikers and out-doors enthusiasts. No blood stained knives or implements of torture decorated the walls, just a pair of snowshoes and in the corner was a backpack and what looked to be a climbing harness. There were even two front windows with curtains on them.
Dean tested the ropes, but as he'd suspected when he saw the climbing gear, his bindings were firm, and the knots well tied. Aw, shit. Sam's gonna be pissed. Why did he always end up tied to a chair? Being demon bait is supposed to be Sam's gig!
The front door swung open, and the young man who'd assisted Dean last night came in and flipped on the light-switch.
Blinking at the sudden brightness, Dean realized he was sitting in a fairly nice living room. In the darkness, he hadn't noticed the polished wooden floor, or the couch in the back of the room. Hell, there was even a TV set in the opposite corner!
"Mwpgh!!" Dean yelled, glaring fiercely at his captor. There was no fear in his eyes, just rage and irritation.
"Good morning! How're you feeling?" The man came in, and causally put his keys in his pockets as he stood over Dean. "You can call me Aaron, and I already know who you are, Dean Winchester." Reaching around Dean's head, Aaron untied the gag, making sure his arms were out of the way in case Dean should try and bite him. Prisoners were always so cranky when they first realized they had been kidnapped.
"Listen to me, you sick bastard. You untie me right now and I might just kick your ass, and not kill you." Dean was literally spitting mad. He ranted at Aaron a few more moments before Aaron got bored with the creative expletives and shoved the gag back in. "I think that's enough for now. My turn!"
Aaron drew back from Dean a little ways, and then walked behind him, out of his range of sight. Despite himself, Dean's muscles tensed, and he could feel his heart rate increase. But Aaron had only gone to get a stool, which he set in front of the bound Dean and perched on. If he starts monologuing, I swear I'm gonna die here, Dean thought.
"So." Aaron stared at Dean, and Dean stared back defiantly. Suddenly, Aaron's blue eyes turned completely black. "Why can't I possess you?"
Dean jerked back. "What the hell!"He yelled, or tried to.
"You see," the demon possessing Aaron continued, "I had this perfect plan for wreaking havoc against all those who stand against my kind. Simple really. Turn them against each other." He grinned, and it was nothing like the smile Dean had received at the museum yesterday afternoon. "I suppose you've heard the old saying, 'set a thief to catch a thief'? Well, it works even better with hunters."
He got up and stood behind Dean. Dean twisted his body to try and keep the demon in sight, but Aaron grabbed Dean's head, and with unnatural strength held him still. "And who better to start with than Dean Winchester? Your brother is already spoken for, but you? You're fair game." His grip tightened and Dean held back a whimper of pain.
"But something is stopping me and I want to know what." He quickly untied the gag and was in front of Dean before the hunter had time to do anything other than take a deep breath.
"Are you sure it's not just that you're incompetent?" Replied Dean snarkily. Truth be told, at that moment he had no idea what the demon was talking about.
A hard slap across the face was all the answer he got. "Why can't I possess you?"
"Look, I don't know. And if I did, why the hell would I tell you?" Dean worked his jaw, wincing at the pain.
Another slap. Dean's face was stinging, and he just knew he was gonna get whiplash from all this. "Wait, you're going to bitch-slap me 'till I cooperate? What is this, a slumber-party?"
Whatever reaction Dean had expected from his smart-ass remarks, it was not the smile which now crossed Aaron's face. "There is a certain lack of atmosphere here, isn't there." He said ruefully, and stood up, stretching out his back. As Dean watched in bemusement, the demon turned off the light, closed the drapes, and returned to his prisoner. "Darkness, that's what was missing. This is much better."
Just my luck to get captured by a demon three fries short of a happy meal. Dean thought, and for a moment had to fight the urge to let out a mad giggle.
"Tell you what, Deano, I'm going to go watch some TV, and you stay here and try to think of an answer to my question, hm?"
"Seriously man, you need to work on your-" Dean's trademark smirk was back in the game, as were his wise-cracks. But before he could actually finish his current gem, from out of nowhere came Aaron's fist, which connected with his face in a blow that was certainly no love tap. The gag was back in before Dean actually realized what was happening, but Aaron was done with him for the time being.
Swearing under his breath, Dean saw stars. Sammy, you sure as hell had better be having a better day than I am. Oh, and take your sweet time finding me, okay? Because this place is really rockin'. Of course to Dean, it was literally rocking, but that was due more to the fact that his head was still spinning from that last blow, and less to the ambiance or relative coolness of his current surroundings.
Lunchtime, and still no word from Dean.
Sarai, at the insistence of Sam, had chosen a movie to see, and Sam sat in the darkened theater completely unaware of what movie they were presumably watching. Okay, one night isn't that unusual for Dean, and he likes to sleep in when he can. But he's not answering his phone and it's not like him to go off without out at least telling me where he's going. Sam fidgeted in the plush seat. His instincts were telling him it was all tied to their work as hunters. But from what information he'd been able to gather from the locals, nothing strange had been happening lately. No odd disappearances, murders or even mangled animal corpses.
He'd had to be discrete with his inquiries, since he didn't want Sarai to realize that they really were hunters of all evil supernatural things. Sure, the Air Force guys had known what they were trying to do with the salt and everything back at the base, but they'd just assumed it was nonsense. If Sarai ever found out that they were deadly serious about the all the paranormal stuff…well, they could say goodbye to that bonus they'd been counting on at the end of this trip.
Sam couldn't exactly file a missing person's report on Dean, and it hasn't been forty-eight hours yet, either, he reminded himself. He fretted for the next hour and a half, and then quickly rushed them back to the motel. Thanks to Dean's disappearance, they'd had to walk since the Impala was also AWOL. Luckily, the motel wasn't too far from the center of town.
"I'm gonna go for a quick walk. I think that movie gave me a headache." Sam lied. "Just stay here, okay? Call me if you need anything." Dropping Sarai off at the motel room, Sam took off for an investigative stroll around the area.
R'Kenoth was not amused, but Sarai was. Clearly he's worried sick about his brother, R'Kenoth, it's rather sweet.
The tok'ra symbiote would've snorted if she'd been in control of their body. //Also, extremely rude. There is no reason that he should attempt to hide his motivation from you, Dean is obviously missing. Besides, we could have been of help.//
True. The more pairs of eyes looking, the better the chances of being seen. Sarai replied, repeating a common saying from her homeland. She looked at the digital time piece next to the lamp on the bedside table. It's time for our weekly check in with Stargate Command. Should we report this development, Reken? The Tok'ra bowed her head, and R'Kenoth's eyes flashed as she took control. "I feel we must."
A/N: I promise I will bring SG-1 back into this story, but I have a lot of ideas, and too much fun stuff to put in first!