ATTENTION: Go over to my favorites or search deangirl1 RIGHT NOW and check out her "Incubus Redux III" story. It is just like the previous stolen kisses story only much hotter, therefore you might have missed it as it has an 'M' rating. There are two chapters so far and she will still take requests, and the most recent part...well...dare I say Cowboy strip tease? ;-) Go now! And PLEASE REVIEW!
Part 8: Partners
If Dean thought he looked out of place in Maine winter in just his leather jacket then he wasn't giving enough credit to Shiarra's Sex and the City style. She showed up outside their motel room in heels, a red low-cut sweater, black pencil skirt, and a very thin open black pea coat. Her hair was perfectly coifed in loose curls past her shoulders and her nails had been painted blood red to match her sweater.
Dean gaped for maybe a minute. "You know," he said, "This is the second time one of us has called you in an emergency and you ended up being less than two hours away. Keeping tabs on us or what?"
"Depends on how necessary it is," Shiarra shot back. She pushed past Dean into the room. "Now where's my—"
"Aunt Shi!" came the exclamation, and then a fully grown but mentally five-year-old Sasha—wearing only the boxers he had slept in last night—bounded across the room and practically launched himself into Shiarra's arms. There was enough force in the embrace to almost knock the succubus right on her ass.
"Goodness!" Shiarra managed, returning the hug awkwardly, "Know your own strength, darling. It's good to see you too, but I don't think you've pounced on me quite like that since you were…" Shiarra trailed as she pulled away and held Sasha out in front of her.
Dean knew just what was going through her head as she looked into those wide, innocent blue eyes. He hadn't wanted to tell Shiarra what was going on over the phone, saying only that something was wrong and he needed her help. She seemed to recognize immediately now what the 'wrong' of what was happening revolved around.
"His…his eyes are like a child's," she said, brushing the hair from Sasha's forehead to which he smiled at the gentle touch. She turned to look at Dean with sharp scrutiny. "What happened to him? And why only him?"
Valiantly, Dean ignored the implied accusation in that. He shut the door and walked past Shiarra and Sasha further into the room to where Sam was sitting on one of the beds. He too was still only wearing what he had slept in. "Not only him," Dean said, patting his brother's shoulder, "Sammy, this is Sasha's aunt. Shiarra."
Grinning goofily, Sam gave a little wave and said, "Hi. I'm Sam. Dean's taking good care of us. You don't hafta worry. Sasha's okay. He's really nice even though he's shy." Sam giggled. "Hehe. Shy. Like your name!"
Sasha giggled too, his head slightly bowed as he blushed.
Shiarra's expression faded to a look that mirrored exactly how Dean felt, like she wasn't sure if she should be laughing or crying. Coz sure, the rugrats were cute, ironically really since they were in such large bodies, but they were supposed to be adults. And there was nothing funny about them being stuck this way.
After telling the boys to brush their teeth and get dressed in the bathroom—there was a lady present now, after all—Dean had Shiarra alone long enough to explain what had happened. Yes, Sasha and Sam understood what was going on. Yes, Sam knew Sasha was an incubus and was fine with it. Yes, they both knew they were hunters and what that meant. Dean had explained hunters to Sam the same way he had the first time.
Their Dad was a superhero. So was Sasha's. Monsters were real but it was okay because hunters know how to fight them. They were all hunters—superheroes—now, just different kinds. Dean explained that he was like Batman, kickass with weapons and all but no superpowers. Sam and Sasha on the other hand did have powers, like X-men. Both of them understood when it was explained like that. Dean had decided that telling Sam he had powers was safer than them manifesting on their own. So far so good.
Except for last night.
Dean didn't tell Shiarra about the whole yellow eyes thing. He hoped it wouldn't matter.
"So what's your plan?" Shiarra asked once she was up to date and Sam and Sasha were both barefoot lying on the floor coloring. Shiarra had actually taken the news surprisingly well. She gestured to Sasha's open laptop on the table. "You have some idea what to try next, I assume, since sanctifying the grounds had no effect."
"It had an effect," Dean countered, "The curse is broken. It just didn't knock the current victims back to normal. That's what I need to figure out."
"We," Shiarra said matter-of-factly.
"What?"
"You mean that's what we need to figure out. Isn't that why you called me?"
It would have been impossible for Dean to keep a straight face after that. "No offense," he began, "It's not that I'm not sure you'd be handy in a fight and all, but this is hunter territory now. I called you here so there'd be someone to take care of these guys while I'm working."
"Excuse me?" Shiarra said, looking rather affronted with her crossed legs and a flick of her hair, "I did not drive those two hours to be named babysitter. My nephew and your brother have the minds of five-year-olds. This is going to take both of us. I do know a thing or two about the supernatural world, you know."
"And who's gonna take care of them then, huh?" Dean shot back, not realizing that the attention of the coloring little boys on the floor had shifted to him and Shiarra, "We can't leave them alone. We can't take them with us. And this is going to require legwork. I need you to stay here."
"What about that little darling up at the front desk?" Shiarra went on, completely ignoring Dean's irritation, "Her feelings are genuine. You said she looked in on them once before."
This was becoming more than Dean could handle. He had thought this would be fairly easy. Shiarra would look after the kids; he would research and finish the hunt; one big, happy family, the end. He did not need some snooty succubus tagging along and screwing things up while he worked. "Look," he said firmly, "Even if Ula agreed to look after them, you are not a hunter. You'll just end up getting in the way. There's a lot that goes in to something like this."
"Such as?" Shiarra challenged.
Dean huffed in frustration. He was beyond losing his temper now. "Such as posing as a detective. Getting information out of people who lie so well you can't tell the difference. Getting dirty and gritty and right down into it, no matter what it takes until the job is done. Sorry, your highness, but I don't see you pulling that off." Dean was on his feet and he didn't even know when that had happened. He was too torn over this whole thing, too stressed, too wrecked. He just wanted to fix it. He just wanted it over.
Shiarra rose slowly from the bed to match Dean. Sam and Sasha weren't coloring at all anymore, but were both looking up worriedly at their guardians, not understanding why they were arguing. "Do you know why I finally agreed to let Sasha be a hunter?" she said, stepping right into Dean's personal space, "Because I knew he could do it. Because my kind and your kind are part of the same territory, Mr. Winchester. We're conmen. Plain and simple. Whether that saves lives or helps people, well, that depends on the person, but the rest is the same. You think I can't get dirty and gritty and right. Down. Into it."
A choked gasp left Dean as Shiarra grabbed him by the front of his shirts and lifted him effortlessly from the floor.
"Dean!"
"Aunt Shi, don't!"
Shiarra ignored those young cries for now. "Disguise. Acting. I'd wager I have more experience with all that then you, hunter, so don't presume to know anything about me. I have failed too many times to be denied the chance to help my own by the likes of you." Shiarra's eyes flashed red and then returned to brilliant blue. "Now," she said, smiling dangerously as she set Dean back down and released him, "We should be getting to work, don't you think?"
Dean was hardly out of breath or injured from that. He couldn't really find it in him to be all that upset either.
I have failed too many times to be denied the chance to help my own.
That phrase stuck with Dean. He couldn't say anything against it. Not that. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to say anything. "Welcome to the team," Dean grumbled, "But you try something like that again," he warned, and a hand that was hidden between them gave a little flick of its wrist.
Shiarra glanced down and it would have been pretty hard to miss the large knife pressed against her inner thigh.
Even frazzled and sore Dean still had a few tricks at the ready no matter what situation he was in. "I have no problem having you neutered," Dean finished with a grin.
To Dean's pleased surprise, Shiarra crossed her arms and returned that grin whole heartedly.
Of course after that it took them a few minutes to reassure the rugrats that of course they were friends, and no, they weren't really fighting just trying to sort things out. Like grown-ups. Dean wasn't happy about Shiarra being his temporary partner, but he didn't see any way around it. She was much more congenial after getting her way anyway.
"The curse as a spot is broken," Dean said, sitting at the table in front of the laptop with Shiarra beside him.
The succubus had managed to convince the five-year-olds to take an early nap so they could have peace and quiet while they worked. Dean had chuckled a little when they both looked to him first before finally agreeing.
"So," Dean continued, "No one new can be affected by the curse, but if the current victims are still in toddler and infant mode then someone must have renewed it after Hollander died. A living originator of the curse is the only explanation."
Shiarra nodded. She seemed to know a few things about curses, which was good because Dean really didn't want to have to explain everything. "So who do you suggest we pay a visit to first?" Shiarra asked.
Dean had a few choices pulled up on the computer. He selected one of the windows. "Easiest guess is usually the right one," Dean said, "Tyler Masterson. He oversaw the acquisition of the house. Hollander's own relative didn't even want it, but that guy's on our list too. Masterson was pretty insistent about having the Animus House turned over to the State to be made into an open museum though. Might be a copycat or an old accomplice." There was no picture for Tyler Masterson, but they had an address for the guy's office.
"Just tell me what you need me to be," Shiarra said simply, "I'll do the rest."
Dean couldn't help smirking. "That sounded vaguely naughty," he said. He should have known better though because Shiarra hit really hard. "Right. Right," Dean grit out, rubbing the arm she just punched, "Like I said before. Detectives. It's simple. People rarely question it. I've already got some clothes I can use. Speaking of…" Dean eyed Shiarra's classy attire.
"Don't worry about me," Shiarra assured him, "But we'll need IDs. I have several of course, but certainly nothing for law enforcement."
"Not a problem."
--
Dean really liked Kinkos. They were so handy in the fraud department and could be found almost anywhere. Except backwater towns. And small towns in Maine, it seemed. Dean had to settle for a local printing place, which he always hated because the people there were much more likely to look over your shoulder. He managed though and the IDs came out well enough. He'd had to curb his desire to make them Detectives Mulder and Scully and went with something a little more subtle.
Returning to the motel, Dean found the toddler twins honest to goodness rough housing on one of the beds like, well, five-year-old boys. Shiarra seemed to be in the bathroom since he could see light from underneath the closed door. Really, Dean wouldn't have minded that Sam and Sasha were playing around if not for how inappropriate it looked when Sam finally got the one-up on Sasha by getting on top of him and straddling his hips to hold him down.
"Okay, that's enough of that," Dean said, immediately hauling Sam off of Sasha.
Sam flashed a pout as soon as he was sitting normally on the bed. "But Dean, we weren't really fighting."
"We were just playing," Sasha chimed in.
"Well think of something else to play. I don't want…anything happening."
Sasha and Sam both blinked at Dean, oblivious.
"Like one of you getting hurt on accident," Dean said quickly, "You're stronger than you think and both of you have powers you don't really know how to use. So just…be careful, okay? Play a different game." Dean slid off his coat, still having to favor his right shoulder a little. The bruises were fading but still pretty sore. He had already brought in his 'detective clothes' from the Impala. He was glad they kept a few things on hand instead of always going to rental shops.
"Dean," Sam said in that horrible whiny tone he always had really, but that sounded much worse with a five-year-old's demanding behind it, "We're bored. We watched all the movies. I don' wanna play M'nopoly again or color. Play something with us."
"Yeah, play something with us, Dean!" echoed Sasha.
It tore Dean up a little how much they honestly just wanted to do something with him, but he had to concentrate on the mission. "Sorry, guys, but I gotta get ready. We're working on getting you two back to normal, remember?" Dean turned to look at the pair and just about melted at the sight of them, side by side on the edge of the bed wearing those matching puppy pouts.
Damn the double whammy.
"Hey, look," Dean said, leaving the IDs on the tabletop before returning to the bed and crouching down in front of them, "Shiarra and I are gonna have to go out to solve this one, okay? But we're gonna leave you with Ula, remember? You like her. She's real nice. She actually said she'd be 'pleased as punch' to keep an eye on you two for a few hours." She had used that exact phrase too—pleased as punch.
They had already discussed all of this with the boys but they still looked crestfallen to hear it said to them again.
"You'll be fine. I promise," Dean assured them, a hand on one of each of their knees. He kept doing things like that. A hand on their knees, their shoulders, brushing their hair back. Dean had only just started realizing that he was mimicking the way his father used to comfort him. "When you guys are back to normal I'll play with you whatever you want," he promised.
Sam's lip looked way too big to be possible. "That's silly. We'll be grown up. We won't wanna play anymore."
"Dude," Dean couldn't help laughing, "Trust me. We play. It's just…a different kind of playing. Adult playing."
"Isn't that an inappropriate thing to say to a five-year old?"
Dean's attention snapped up past Sam and Sasha to the bathroom where Shiarra's voice had come from. He had seen her in variously hot things before from short skirts to low-cut tops, but this took the cake. Because it wasn't anything like that. Dean gaped. Shiarra was wearing black slacks, sensible shoes without heels, a white-button down shirt that hid her figure if anything, and a black blazer. All she needed was the trench coat and she'd be the spitting image of a female detective all right, complete with little to no makeup and her hair done up tightly into a bun.
"What?" Shiarra demanded, crossing her arms defiantly, "I don't always have to be glamorous, you know. I do enjoy jeans and a T-shirt on occasion too. I certainly wouldn't mind seeing my boy in a collared shirt now and again," she added pointedly, looking at Sasha who was indeed in a T-shirt and jeans, "But I'll take what I can get. Are we settled with the IDs?"
It took Dean a moment to collect himself. He couldn't help it; Shiarra just looked so normal. "Uh…right," he managed, gesturing to the table where he had left the IDs, "And hey, it wasn't inappropriate, what I said. I wasn't talking about that kind of playing." Dean patted Sam and Sasha's knees before standing up. They of course had no idea what he was talking about.
"Dean," Shiarra said disapprovingly as soon as she looked at the IDs.
"What?" Dean was already grinning.
Shiarra tilted her head, eyeing Dean all kinds of judgmental, like she was putting up with three children instead of two. "Detectives Starsky and Lacey? Clever, dear. But you don't think that will attract excessive scrutiny?"
"Nobody ever notices that stuff anyway," Dean shrugged, "Makes the hunts more interesting for me though. We just need to drop these guys off with Ula up front. There's a back room they can play in, hang out in, whatever. Let me get dressed and we'll go. You sure you're up for this," he pressed, "We don't have time for any amateur shi—" Dean caught himself, "Stuff."
The response from Shiarra was a very stern look and a hand on her hip. Dean didn't press any further.
It only took Dean five minutes to use the bathroom, change, and fuss with his hair a little. The usual pre-hunt anxiousness fluttered in his stomach. The only other time he had worked with a woman on a hunt was with Jo, and that had been more as a faux couple not faux detectives. Of course Ellen had helped out at the Devil's Gate but this was different. They would have to work as a team.
Dean had just left the bathroom and was about to ask if everyone was ready to go when a blur of a redhead suddenly went flying across the room into one of the corners. Dean's reflexes kicked into gear as he searched the room immediately for what he needed to fight. But the only person where Sasha had flown from was Sam.
"Sasha! Oh, sweetheart, are you alright?" Shiarra was asking, having immediately gone to her nephew.
Dean stood at a loss but he could tell from one look at Sam and the kid's stricken expression that whatever happened wasn't on purpose. Dean made straight for his brother, who was on the far bed, curling himself into a ball on top of the pillows and pressing himself back against the headboard.
Sam flinched when Dean first reached him and tried to grab his shoulder. Dean had rarely known his brother to ever flinch from him, no matter what the age.
"Sammy…what happened?" Dean glanced to the corner as he said that. Shiarra was on the floor, holding Sasha close and mumbling soothing words like a dotting mother. Dean could see tears in Sasha's eyes but when he looked back he could see tears in Sam's too.
"I didn't mean to," Sam said miserably, pulling his knees into his chest and hugging them, "I didn't mean to, Dean, I swear. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sam continued to chant.
"Hey, shhh," Dean said, sitting on the bed and pulling Sam against him whether the large kid flinched away again or not, "It's okay. I'm sure it was an accident, Sammy. Just tell me what happened. Did you guys have a fight?"
"No!" Sam said right away, shaking his head fiercely and leaning into Dean's body, "Sasha was telling me all this neat stuff 'bout his dad. It was really cool. I wasn't mad. I wasn't mad, Dean."
"I think he just got a little overexcited," Shiarra spoke up, "They really were just on the bed talking. The excitement must have triggered one of his powers. TK, I take it. You know he didn't mean it, don't you, darling?" she said to Sasha, stroking his hair and holding his head to her shoulder.
Dean saw Sasha nod through his sniffles and even try to smile at Sam a little. "See?" Dean said, an arm around Sam now so he could squeeze reassuringly, "No harm done. Sasha's still your friend. Just be more careful next time."
"But I don't know what I did."
"Try," Dean said. He was a little wary about what he was about to suggest, but something told him it was the right thing. "Listen, Sammy, I'm going to tell you about all of the powers you have that we know of. Some might seem a little scary but I want you to know them. They're yours so your body remembers even if you don't. If you understand them better then you'll be able to choose when and when not to use them, okay?"
"I don' wanna use any of 'em ever," Sam pouted, snuggling deeper into Dean's side, "Sasha, I'm sorry. I'm sorry my powers were mean to you. I didn't mean it."
Sasha nodded again, still sniffling, and started to get up, aided by Shiarra. He was obviously unhurt just startled. "It's okay, Sam," he said in that small voice.
A part of Dean wanted to sniffle and sob with them.
True to his word, Dean told Sam about every power he knew, even the one that stops people's hearts which Dean was most concerned about going off accidentally and had Sam hugging him by the arm too tightly. Shiarra looked rightly unsettled by all this new information too.
Sam said that if he looked inside his head he could 'see' all of those powers Dean told him about and he promised he wouldn't have any more accidents. He also said he could 'see' other powers but he didn't know what those ones were. Dean didn't understand what Sam meant exactly by 'seeing' his powers but a five-year-old brain probably couldn't explain it much better than that.
The only thing Dean allowed himself to worry about was whether or not opening little Sammy up to the powers more was against everything adult Sam had been doing. A sinister part of Dean knew it was and didn't care. Anything was better than what they had been going through lately.
They didn't have time to deal with this anymore than they already had. There was a hunt to finish and five-year-olds to get grown up. There was also one minor detail Dean had forgotten to mention to Shiarra until just as they were heading out the door.
"Absolutely not."
"Come on, it's no big deal. I was just trying to be nice to her. Besides, it'll make more sense with you suddenly showing up like this."
Shiarra huffed dramatically. "I find it highly inappropriate for me to pretend to be your wife," she said sharply, "Especially considering you're sleeping with my—"
"Hey!" Dean cut in, grabbing Shiarra's arm and pulling her close to whisper more discretely, "Ix-nay on the ex-say in front of the ids-kay, will ya?"
Shiarra blinked. "Did you just speak pig Latin to me?"
It took all of Dean's remaining strength not to laugh out loud. "I know you have rings. Just put one on your wedding finger for in front of Ula. Doesn't that sound like a fun game, guys?" Dean said to Sam and Sasha, "We're gonna make Ula think Shiarra and I are married. Everything else is the same. Fun, right?" Dean turned back to Shiarra while Sam and Sasha giggled. "Think you can handle that, honey?"
When they got to the front desk Dean made a point of holding Shiarra real tight against his hip. Probably because she was busy digging her nails into his lower back. Sam and Sasha were ushered almost immediately into the back room behind the front desk to play. Dean called out one final warning before they disappeared.
"Remember what we talked about, guys!" he said, and he really hoped they did. Behave. No powers in front of Ula of any kind. You are not actually five-year-olds. And Shiarra and I are married. It seemed both feasible and a bit much for five-year-old minds to remember.
"So your wife got in this morning?" Ula said warmly without having to have anything explained to her, "That's wonderful. You two have…" she looked over their suits and trench coats, "Some kind of serious business in town today?"
"Something like that," Dean said, "Ula, this is Shiarra. She's actually Sasha's…sister," Dean was glad he caught himself because 'aunt' would not make sense, "It's how we met, taking care of our boys. Right, sweetheart?" Dean gave Shiarra an extra hard squeeze.
Shiarra just laughed politely but Dean could have sworn there was a hidden threat in that sound somewhere. "It's nice to meet you," Shiarra said, and Dean was immediately taken aback by how young she sounded, "Dean said you were really good with the boys before. I hope we're not putting you out."
"Oh, of course not. I've babysat for years. Oh," Ula brought a hand up to her mouth, "I probably shouldn't call it that. Adult sitting maybe? I know they're not children. I'm sorry."
There was no end to how much Dean wanted to tell Ula the truth right then if only to stop her from getting so flustered when there really was no reason. They were children. Wholly and completely children. "I told you," Dean smiled, "They're like five-year-olds. You're not going to offend anyone for thinking that way too, especially not us. But…we better go. Thanks again."
Ula was all beaming smiles, her face only slightly flushed like maybe she couldn't help it half the time. He still thought it made her look cute. "Don't worry about a thing," she said, "Have fun!"
Right, Dean thought. Fun.
--
"You know, looking at you I see a twenty-five-year-old. Didn't know you still knew how to sound like one though. Almost believed you back there with Ula," Dean smirked as he drove.
The plan was to park a block away from Masterson's office and then walk. For some reason people had trouble believing any precinct would issue an unmarked '67 Chevy Impala to its detectives.
Shiarra was sitting comfortably next to Dean. He had gotten a look at her car finally, never having gone out to see it when they were at Bobby's. Dean had expected Shiarra to drive something shiny, new and expensive. Well, it probably was expensive but as it turned out she had a royal blue, revamped old Bentley. Dean had to give the succubus props for that; there was no doubt she had style.
"You, Mr. Winchester," Shiarra said with a sideways glance, "Have only had the pleasure of my company in private situations until now. Depending on my current quarry's tastes I can act as I really am. Act my true age, as it were. But I find that most people expect a twenty-five-year-old when they look at me, no matter how upscale, and that is what they prefer to get. You may want me to take point with this Masterson fellow, by the way. A little charm can often turn the tides in one's favor. And I am a professional."
"Ha!" Dean couldn't help laughing, because really, that sounded all kinds of wrong, "I don't think being hit on by a hot detective will be enough to loosen this guy's tongue if he's really who we're looking for."
"I meant in a subtle manner, thank you," Shiarra huffed, "Pheromones are a very handy way to sway someone. And what exactly are we supposed to do with this person once we're sure we've found him anyway? If the conduit for the curse, the house, has been destroyed then—"
"Then the only way to help Sam and Sasha is to either get this guy to drop the curse completely…or kill him." Dean clutched the steering wheel a little tighter but he didn't take his attention off the road. He had two guns, a knife, and his ankle blade. Shiarra had Sasha's knife and gun and the added bonus of being a succubus. They were prepared to kill. Still, Dean had to ask, "You have a problem with that?"
There was a slow rustling of cloth as Shiarra crossed her legs. "Not in the least. Rest assured…it wouldn't be the first time," she said in a low voice.
That caught Dean's attention. He flicked his eyes to Shiarra but she was staring forward as he had been. He decided not to ask. At least not now.
They reached Masterson's office and flashed their badges at his secretary. Dean had gone with Bangor, Maine detectives because Bangor was the closest of Maine's larger cities. And because the name made Dean snicker. Local police would have been too hard to pull of for an extended period of time in a place like Ellsworth. Dean wouldn't be surprised either if the real thing from Bangor or Augusta showed up in a day or two, what with all the crazy going on.
Masterson's secretary led them into his office to wait. He was apparently just getting back from a meeting. Dean and Shiarra waited in the seats provided until they heard the door open again.
"I hope you haven't been sitting here long," preceded a bright female voice as someone entered the office, "Ellsworth has several historical buildings of interest so I've been all over the place lately. And what with the Hollander building just collapsing like that. I assume that's why you're here?" The woman came around the desk and sat down resolutely, claiming it rightfully as hers.
Dean stared. This was definitely not how he had pictured someone who worked in acquisitions. "You're Tyler Masterson?" he questioned.
The woman smiled brightly, her hands folding delicately on top of her desk. "Were you expecting a middle-aged man?" she laughed, "Don't worry. I get that all the time."
Tyler wasn't a middle-aged anything. She looked early thirties, not much older than Dean—or Shiarra by appearance—had short brown hair, a tailored green suit, and a very stern but beautiful face. This was a self-made woman. Dean had to hold back a grin when he realized Shiarra's pheromones wouldn't be helping much.
Shiarra seemed to have realized that with a bit of a start too, but when Dean cast her a quick look she had on a very professional smile and started right in with questions.
"Actually, you're right. We are here about the late Mr. Hollander's estate," she said, sounding entirely different to Dean again then how she normally did or how she had sounded when playing the part of young wife in front of Ula, "We've actually been in town for a few days now, investigating the incidents that had been surrounding the house prior to its collapse. As the person in charge of the building's acquisition I'm sure you know all about that."
As was the desired affect, Tyler looked immediately unsettled. She shifted a little in her seat. "Yes, well, that was all quite unfortunate and as I understand it is still be investigated by the local police." Her eyes darted down at her desk before returning to Shiarra and Dean.
Too easy, Dean thought. "What exactly is the Maine State Housing Authority doing with offices in a town like Ellsworth? Seems a little out of the way."
"Yes, well…"
Dean wasn't oblivious at all to how she kept saying that.
"Our main offices are in Augusta, of course, but there's a lot of traveling involved so once in a while we'll set up more permanent offices if a particular area is of interest. Ellsworth is literally crawling with property ready to be turned over to the State. Better than seeing such lovely buildings go into disrepair."
"Like Hollander's house," Dean said with a subtle grin even though he knew the real reason it had crumbled like a stack of cards the other morning.
"Eheh. Right."
"You know what I found really interesting?" Dean said, leaning towards the desk, "You see, when I was looking over all the details for this case, I noticed that Hollander's property didn't get turned over to the State after his death. It actually fell into your hands the day before that, didn't it? I'm sure you can understand why that seemed a little strange to us, Miss Masterson."
Panic flushed into Tyler's face and she sat up stiff and straight in her chair a moment. Suddenly, she leaned over her desk towards Dean and began speaking very fast in sharp, hushed tones. "Look. I swear I had no idea. The State wasn't even interested in that place. The town's own historical society wanted it demolished. I'd already been set up here looking at other properties, honestly. Then Hollander comes to me, begging, pleading that his dying wish was to make sure that place didn't get torn down. I didn't know he was serious about the dying part. I swear I had nothing to do with that."
"We're not here to accuse you of murder, Miss Masterson," Shiarra said coolly, "Conspiracy to do harm to others, on the other hand…"
"I had nothing to do with those incidents either!" Tyler's voice was beginning to rise. "Please, I've never even stepped foot in that house since Hollander signed over the papers and gave me the money."
Hang on a minute, Dean thought. This was getting complicated. Money? "Just come clean," he said, "You had to have known what you were doing when you reinstated the curse."
Tyler opened her mouth with ready defense again but suddenly snapped it shut and stared at Dean, gaping. "The what?" she said, genuinely taken aback.
Crap. Dean hated this feeling, the deer-in-headlights feeling when he'd just realized his hunch was wrong. "Hollander didn't…leave any instructions after signing things over? No other requests of…acts on your part?"
"I certainly hope you're not implying that I would have given any sexual—"
"No! No," Dean wiped a hand over his face compulsively, "Never mind. So…you took a bribe from Hollander to acquisition the house. And that's all."
Tyler nodded frantically, quickly forgetting any mention of a curse. Dean was continuously amazed at how easy that was for most people. "Are you…going to arrest me?" Tyler asked.
Not fucking likely. Dean was already getting out of his chair. "We'll…have to leave that as a State matter, Ma'am. I'm sure you'll be contacted by someone. Thanks for your time." More like waste of time. Dean didn't wait for Shiarra, he just got up and left, assuming she would follow. He had no patience for bumps in the road on this one.
Shiarra caught up to Dean outside and they headed for the car. It was cold. Clear, but the snow was high from yesterday. Dean thought Shiarra's brisk walk fit in perfectly. "She could have been lying," Shiarra said as they reached the Impala.
"She wasn't."
"I know that," Shiarra shot back, "But I have a bit of an advantage." The slam of their doors was loud from the cold. "Police station next then?" she asked.
"No. Something's not sitting right with all this. Why would Hollander want the State to take the house? His medical records didn't show any signs that he was dying. It was sudden. But then what was with the whole dying wish thing?" Dean turned on the Impala and shifted into DRIVE. "It's a few towns over, but I say we hit up Henry Faust next. Hollander's only living relative."
"Faust?" Shiarra repeated with a slight smirk as they drove off.
"Yeah. Why?"
"The famous story about selling one's soul to the Devil. Surely you know it."
Dean swallowed. He did know it actually. Too well. Only Shiarra didn't know how close to home that topic was for Dean. "Yeah," he said, "Who could forget."
--
"I'm sorry but…what is this about exactly?"
Dean and Shiarra had made it to Faust's place in less than an hour. He looked younger than Dean expected since the guy was supposed to be in his thirties, more like a young twenty-something. Like someone who took good care of themselves. He lived alone and answered the door to his small country home without a shirt.
It was Shiarra who smiled warmly and spoke to answer him first, apparently pleased that now her charms could be of some use to them.
"We're here regarding the property of your late relative, William Hollander Junior. If you have a moment," she added.
"Uncle Bill's place? Sure, sure." Faust ran a hand through his hair and stepped aside to let Dean and Shiarra into the house, looking like maybe he had been taking a nap before they arrived since his eyes were so tired. He led them into a living room and swiped a shirt from off the back of a chair that he immediately put on. The rest of the place was very tidy, and, Dean had to note, a little too old poke country for his tastes.
Dean couldn't help noticing how Shiarra eyed Faust appraisingly while he was putting on his shirt. He was in good shape, sure. A little too blonde maybe. Dean just didn't see the appeal. Of course he had never seen the appeal in other guys. Well. Except one.
With a sharp elbow to Shiarra's side, Dean managed to knock her eyes from the guy's ass before Faust turned around and caught her. Charm was fine, but actually getting interested was not what they were here for. Shiarra could find someone to feed from on her own time. Of course she just shrugged at Dean innocently in response to his elbowing. The look was remarkably akin to one of Sasha's actually.
"I can't imagine why Bangor detectives would care about that old house. Is this about the vandalism or the squatters?" Faust asked, offering Dean and Shiarra seats on the sofa.
"Vandalism?" Shiarra questioned.
"Yeah. Didn't I hear the whole place went down yesterday? Sturdy buildings like that don't just fall over." Faust sat himself down in a cushy-looking chair next to the couch.
"We're here about a little bit of everything, Mr. Faust," Dean said.
"Or should we call you Henry," Shiarra jumped in. She batted her eyes at Faust and Dean was immediately reminded of playing Mormons with Sasha. Shameless.
Faust cracked a sideways grin. Dean didn't miss the way his eyes swept quickly over Shiarra's body even if it was mostly covered right now. "Hank, actually. Henry was my father. Our family has a long tradition of juniors."
"Anyway," Dean pushed right on, "Hank. First, I don't suppose you could tell us why Hollander was so anxious to have the State take claim over his property. It seemed a little…odd to us."
A concerned frown crossed Faust's face. "Why? Because I wouldn't," he said simply, and with maybe a touch of regret, Dean thought, "He asked me take it and…I'm sorry, but to be honest that place has always given me the creeps. It was actually my suggestion that he take it to the State. He just didn't want to see the place torn down after he died. I think he understood it would be eventually but being declared a historical building or something would at least keep it around awhile."
"You convinced him to go to the State?" Dean pressed.
"Sure."
"Because we also found it odd that Hollander told the acquisitions officer it was his dying wish. You know, what with him croaking the day after the State took over the property and all."
Again concern washed over Faust's features—regret, guilt. "Yeah. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with him. I guess he knew something the rest of us didn't. I should…I should have known something was wrong with how insistent he was to get the place in someone's hands so suddenly like that. I should have taken it myself. I just…" Faust sighed, "Bill's a second cousin. It's not like we were really close. We're just all that's left. I should have taken the house. If I'd have known he was dying…"
"We're sorry to bring all this up for you again," Shiarra said tenderly. Dean thought he was beginning to understand how to read her, and she seemed entirely genuine towards Faust. Dean glanced between the two of them and saw Faust smile in her direction.
"He was cremated, you know," Faust said—and they did know that since it had been one of the first things they thought of with all they knew of vengeful spirits, "There wasn't even a funeral really. It just gets to me that he spent so much time on that house, whatever he did with it, that no one even really cared when he passed away. I don't even want to think of that happening to me, so I just let the house go. If you want information about what happened to it or about those squatters, I'm sorry I can't help you, but I'll cooperate all I can. I've never even be inside that place. They said…they said it made those people go crazy, if you can believe that."
Dean believed a hell of a lot more than just that. "Thanks for your time," he said, getting up and looking down at Shiarra as a sign it was time to go, "We'll keep in touch if we need to ask you any more questions."
Shiarra looked at Dean a little strangely at this sudden departure, but she reached for Faust's hand, shook it, and made with the polite goodbyes before following Dean out. As soon as they reached the car Dean shook his head at Shiarra and chuckled under his breath. "What?" she said haughtily, "I am allowed to admire. It's not like it did any harm."
"That's not why I'm laughing." Dean started the car for their trip back into Ellsworth.
Shiarra looked at him, waiting for Dean to explain himself.
This was one of those moments when Dean really enjoyed being himself. "You, Miss I-Do-This-Everyday, were just swindled."
"Excuse me?"
"Faust played right to you. He was lying. I don't know about what, but he's hiding something. I'm sure of it."
"Dean," Shiarra said with an air of authority, "He was being wholly sincere. If you'll recall, my senses for reading people's emotions, for reading whether or not someone is lying, are—"
"Supernatural," Dean broke in, "Just like what we're dealing with in this case. But he can't fool good old fashioned intuition. He was lying and I want to know why."
Shiarra didn't say anything for a few minutes but Dean could feel her eyes watching him as he drove. He was surprised she didn't further question his deduction but just said, "You think he's the one we're looking for?"
Dean frowned. "I don't know. Won't make sense to do anything until we're sure. We'll go back to town, hit the police station, see if we can find out anything else. I want to see if they brought in any of the rubble as evidence. We're still missing too many pieces. Either way, I say we come back to Faust's place some time he's not home and have a look around. Maybe tonight if we don't come up with anything else."
There was silence in response and after awhile it started to make Dean nervous. He could still feel Shiarra's eyes all over him.
"What?" he finally said in exasperation.
With a smirk, the succubus returned to facing forward. "Nothing," she said, "You just reminded me of someone."
Now it was Dean's turn to stare. If Sasha was still a mystery then Shiarra was the Bermuda Triangle. Sometimes sense just disappeared when he tried to make some of her. He didn't really mind all that much either.
The police station was just what Dean expected—small, poorly staffed, and easily infiltrated. The chief barely even gave their badges a glance. He seemed to have expected help from one of the cities on this one. Well, Dean supposed the chief, like most small town police chiefs, wouldn't call it help so much as prying.
"Well at first we thought it was the fire. Arson maybe. But it turns out the thing wouldn't have been big enough to take down that whole place," Chief Milner explained. Dean and Shiarra were sitting in front of his desk. They seemed to be sitting a lot today. "I don't know what to tell ya. We brought back a few pieces of the wreckage, sure, but that's another strange thing. There just wasn't enough debris there. A few pieces caught our attention, strange words and all that. I can lead you to the evidence room if you like."
Dean loved small towns. "That would be great."
Chief Milner wasn't an idiot though. He took to Dean and Shiarra pretty well even if they were barking around his territory, but he didn't leave them alone in the evidence room as Dean had hoped. He kept a watchful eye on them, occasionally giving his two cents, which actually was pretty helpful most of the time, but prevented them from being able to speak freely about what they found.
Speaking in code wasn't the hard part though. Oh no. The hard part was not stealing the bag marked 'E' when Dean saw that it contained his father's miraculously preserved journal. If it was still in evidence then no one had looked through it quite yet. He'd have to get his hands on it later though if he didn't get the chance to take it now. Dean gave Shiarra a hard look as he passed the journal to her and moved on to something else.
Most of what was here were pieces of wood, benign now and stripped of their power, with bits of Latin on them. There was only one piece Dean hadn't remembered seeing before and it made him pause. How he knew he hadn't just passed over it when they were in the house was because it wasn't in Latin. Dean recognized the words as Greek.
"You wouldn't happen to know what part of the house this would have been from, would you?" Dean asked Milner. It was just a small bit of wood and was hard to discern much of anything about it except that it wasn't a wall stud.
Milner stepped a little closer since he had been giving them room and eyed the piece. "Found that one myself. Down by where the porch steps would have been. Couldn't tell you exactly where it had been though."
"Thanks. That might actually be helpful." There was something nagging at the back of Dean's brain now, something about finding this one bit of Greek that bothered him. He couldn't put his finger on it yet but he knew there had to be some connection.
"What's this?" asked Shiarra, holding up what looked to be the last evidence bag. It wasn't rubble but appeared to be a piece of paper. Dean peered over her shoulder and looked closer. It was a photograph. It looked pretty worn but if Dean didn't know any better he would swear it was Henry Faust.
"Found that by the steps too. Funny it was in such good shape. That's a picture of Bill there. Or maybe his father. They looked so much alike. Must have been from when he was just shy of thirty by the looks of it."
Dean snatched the picture out of Shiarra's hand. "This is Hollander?" Catching Shiarra's eye, Dean immediately passed on all of the panicked emotions he felt welling up inside of him. They had never found a picture of Hollander Junior or Senior, like the family ran from cameras. Now Dean understood why. This wasn't just family resemblance. "Thank you, Chief," Dean turned to Milner, "I think we've seen enough."
Moving quickly to leave the police station, Dean all but bolted for the Impala. Shiarra had to run to keep up with him and called after him as he raced for where the car was parked down the street. "Dean! What are we doing!?"
Suddenly everything had clicked and Dean knew exactly what needed to be done. "We're paying that second visit to Faust. Now."
tbc...
A/N: Anyone? There a lot of little things in this one that allude to other things. I think this Arc will have two more parts. I had intended only one but I just can't fit it all. That will make an even 10 parts anyway. This will move back some things I had planned to the next Arc, but that's fine. I have their first hunt there all planned. And actually, between this arc and the next there will be a guest chapter that MUST be read by deangirl1. I will let you know when it is ready for your reading pleasure, but it fits into the story after this. It is amazing.
THANK YOU ALL, really, and an extra one to those of you who don't sign in so that I can't ever message back my thanks. You guys are amazing. It's Dean and Shiarra to the rescue!
Crim