So, for those of you who thought this would only be coming in two parts, well... it's not. It's definitely going to be in three. I tried, trust me I tried so freakin' hard to narrow down this wordcount and get it all to fit but Dean and Lex just had so much more to say! And Dean! Good grief, that man just wouldn't let me be. Quite a bit of this is from his POV. Hope you enjoy this next bit of his and Lex's story.
Quick shout out to my saintly betas WinchesterKarma67, infinity_dreamchaser, and cherrishish for listening and agonizing with me through this entire section for weeks on end. Love you, ladies. Your patience has earned you sainthood in my book. 3
I had never minded crowds before. Growing up, crowds had been the surest way to score some cash. But the raucous group of college students in the Cottonwood Coffee Bistro Bar in Lincoln, Nebraska, five minutes from the University campus was about to make me lose my shit. They just kept coming. Coffee appeared to be the vice of choice for every single fucking person on campus and Cottonwood was apparently where the coffee junkies gathered for a midnight fix. Eight people crowded around tables meant for four and at least two people crowded onto every available sitting space, even overflowing out onto the outdoor patio area. Several tabletop games were being played along one side of the room and the mounting noise level was making every muscle in my body clench. I was tucked at the far end of the bar with a huge group at a table behind me and another group to my left, all occupied with their own overlapping conversations. Everyone was shouting just to be heard, granting me a fairly inconspicuous place to assess the room and my options.
I had come in looking for an easy mark, needing a laptop, more cash, and a new set of wheels. Lincoln had been the next exit on the highway and it had seemed like luck that such a crowded business was open this time of night. But the escalating noise pounding at my skull had me thinking I had overestimated my self-control. I had spent the last eight hours in a cramped car and I was so far beyond exhausted that even the fan blowing the stuffy air around the room was irritating me. The next time someone jostled me, I was going to start throwing punches. Trying to block out the unrelenting shouts and laughter was a joke, but I managed to keep myself focused. Get in, get supplies, get out. Get in, get supplies, get out. Get in…
There. My first mark was a dickwad preppy athlete that was completely ignoring his date in favor of flirting with the girl across the table from him. This guy could obviously spare the cash. His flashy white bag was slung over the back of his chair carelessly and bulked out. Laptop – check.
The car and cash weren't going to be difficult, just time consuming. After subjecting myself to this claustrophobic press of college kids, I did not want to have to people again for a several days, at least. That meant I was going to have to pace out my marks and blend in, slowly gathering enough cash that I could comfortably spend the next few days tucked away somewhere researching where the boys might be headed next. No matter how much I hated to be in this stiflingly hot coffee bar in the middle of the night with dozens of sweaty bodies, it was the quickest way to find Dean.
"Hey there, beautiful – what can I get you?" The bartender leaned over the counter to shout so I could hear him, pressing into my hard-won personal space. The strange mix of coffee equipment and alcohol bottles on the wall behind him created a colorful background to his eyes undressing me. I had felt his eyes tracking me all across the chaotic room. If there was one thing I was well acquainted with, it was a heavy gaze that preyed on your weaknesses. The little sleep I had managed the night before had been filled with nightmares starring Stokes standing in the darkness, eyes glowing as his disembodied voice snapped out commands and ordered the vampires to feed. My nightmares were random, different memories sneaking up through my slumber like a noose around my neck, only growing worse as I pushed myself harder. And the fact that a two-bit bartender in some hipster coffee bar in Nowhere, Nebraska was making me feel that same sickening swell of vulnerability was pissing me off. It was making my skin crawl, making this heat unbearable, and escalating my frustration that I didn't have adequate room to defend myself. I felt pinned down and I didn't care for the feeling at all.
I ignored his question, my eyes continuing to search the crowd for a mark with some real cash.
"Aw, come on!" He wheedled, leaning in closer and ignoring several calls from down the bar for refills. "I don't deserve the cold shoulder. Maybe I should mix you one of my specialties." His gaze slid over my curves and lingered. "You need to loosen up!"
"Take a hint. Not thirsty." I sidestepped to avoid his hand reaching farther across the bar to touch me.
His gaze sharpened with interest. "Feisty, aren't you? Hey—I like feisty! Feisty means you're just asking for a firm hand to tame that wild streak. I get off in twenty minutes – how about you meet me out front?" He threw me what I'm sure was supposed to be a seductive smile as his eyes dropped back down to my flannel and jeans as if he could use his eyes to touch me. "My apartment's just around the corner!"
I debated for a moment whether throat punching him was an appropriate response. Dean – you've got to find Dean. I settled for a vicious glare that warned him if he came toward me again he was going to start losing limbs. The power coiled deep inside me, restless from my heightened emotions. "Fuck off, dude!" Fuck this shit. There were plenty of other spots in this room that I could use to find my marks. He shouted something after me as I wove back through the crowd but I ignored it, trying to block out the way I could still feel his eyes on me.
I needed to get out of there. Soon. There were too many fucking people and it was too goddamn hot. No place should be this hot in the middle of the night. None. Sweat had been rolling down my neck since the moment I set foot in the doors yet despite that the bartender was the third guy to hit on me and I was so fucking over it. I miss you, Dean. You definitely would've punched that guy in the throat. Hell, who was I kidding - Sam would've too. I missed my boys and unfortunately the only way back to them was through this chaotic mess. I needed to get my butt in gear. Get in, get supplies, get out.
When I burst through the crowded doorway an hour and a half later, I had the computer bag slung over my shoulder, keys in my hand, and three hundred dollars in my pocket, a significant portion of it liberated from the skeevy bartender's tips. Now, I just needed somewhere quiet to research.
I sat in the car, staring angrily at my bloody hands clenched on the wheel. I had been wrong. Again. I had been so sure this time. Sure that the signs were obvious, sure that this was the hunt that the boys would be on. I was so certain that Dean was heading for the quickie hunts, the ghosts, ghouls, vampires – anything that was obvious at first glance and could be handled swiftly, leaving you blood splattered and satisfied. I knew Dean. I did. But I was missing something, I had to be. It had been thirty days since I had last seen them. I had been sure I would see them today. But I had been wrong. Again.
Despite my certainty, I had pulled up to an empty street and yet another hunt I had to handle alone. Chopping off the head of the vampire that had been feeding on people in this tiny town had barely taken the edge off my frustration. But people still needed saving, and the job still needed to be handled even if I was just there because of a miscalculation. I had miscalculated a lot this month, and the list of hunts I had managed alone was getting longer and longer. I had managed to rescue a few people but failed to save far more. Each failure weighed on me heavily and knowing that there were dozens of innocent people out there, trapped in darkness, waiting for rescue that wasn't coming was pushing me into longer and harder days as I searched. I had to fight the guilt as I narrowed my focus on finding the boys.
That one little phrase that Sam had first said to me, 'We're hunters' had held a wealth of history that I was only just beginning to understand. Hunting wasn't just a job, something you stepped into and out of at will. It was a call, a sick twisted relentless siren call that taunted you with those you couldn't save, that whispered at night that every moment you slept could mean someone else's life in the balance. Hunting was a passion and a torment and I finally understood the importance of Sam and Dean's relationship. They held each other above water. The jokes, the fights, the arguing, the banter – all of it was a constant struggle against giving into the darkness that pulled at them on a daily basis. They were heroes, but there was a cost for their heroism. Their peace of mind was but a shadow of a memory and I understood so much better now that I had been in their shoes. There was great purpose in hunting. But hunting alone was a death sentence, whether you ran up against something stronger than expected or you simply caved to the helpless cries of the innocents and pushed yourself to exhaustion and grew reckless with your own safety.
My vision blurred with fatigue as I turned the key in the ignition and listened to the car rumble to life. I was tired, so fucking tired of this bullshit. Hope was a vicious beast that I couldn't manage to contain and it coiled nauseatingly alongside the desperation that filled my gut. But no matter how many times I told myself I wasn't expecting to see the Impala when I raced off on a new lead, or how many times I cautioned myself that they probably weren't going to be at the next hunt, I was helpless to stop the hope from flooding me every single fucking time. I was equally helpless against the sickening ache that grew in my chest when I realized I was headed into yet another hunt alone.
The more hunts I got under my belt, the more I realized that if I did manage to find Dean, I didn't want to smell like blood, sweat, and gunpowder. I wanted to be clean. Feel fresh. Be able to launch straight into the kiss I had been dreaming about all month. I couldn't do that if I hadn't bathed in a week, or hadn't brushed my teeth in just as long. So I quit sleeping in the car and had been moving from motel to skeevy motel and bouncing off the wi-fi from the chain restaurants next door to do my research. Clean wasn't much but it was something.
It was always that first moment that I stepped back in the motel door that hit me the hardest. The realization that I was back to square one. No leads. No idea where my boys were or if they were even still alive. Cas's words had started running through my head on a loop. He won't survive without you. His love and recklessness ensure that his mourning your absence would ultimately result in his death. I could feel what the separation was doing to me, the way it felt like my foundation was cracking. I could only imagine how Dean was handling this gut wrenching emptiness. Every time worry snaked through me, I sent a desperate plea through our link even knowing nothing but silence would echo back to me. Hang on, Dean. I'll find you. Somehow, I'll find my way back to you.
My steps slowed as I moved further into the room. I washed up in the bathroom and slipped into Dean's shirt. I had been wearing it when Cas swept me away from Bobby's and it had become my only comfort. The soft burgundy material was worn and faded now because hunting was the only time I didn't wear it. I didn't want to risk it getting torn or destroyed.
I flicked on the tiny countertop T.V. resting on the dresser and sank on the edge of the mattress, trying to gather the energy to pull out the laptop and find a new lead. I settled at the head of the bed with my back braced against the wall as my gaze settled on the tiny flickering images on the screen.
"—Found dead at a nearby farm today when an anonymous tip notified authorities of nearby screams. But in a strange turn of events, it appears that the tip may have been called in by the killers themselves."
The screen shot to a grainy image, obviously off one of those low quality home security feeds with crappy night vision. My heart stopped in my chest. I knew those shoulders. I knew those shoulders.
"—can see in the video, two armed men appear to be breaking into the barn of a local farmer, John Brown. We also see the same two figures exit the building less than thirty minutes later. The anonymous call to the 911 Dispatch was placed only moments after their departure."
The call recording started to play. "911 – what's your emergency?"
The first word of the response set my heart galloping in my chest again. Sam. "…I'd like to report a suspicious disturbance at 628 Pickett Row. I think I heard someone screaming in the cellar." The recording clicked off and my thoughts started to spin. God, he sounded exhausted. Fatigue had dropped his tone almost down to Dean's rasp. What the hell had they been through this past month?!
"Authorities arrived moments later to find the Jane Doe deceased. The initial investigation revealed the cause of death to be a knife wound to the neck." The news anchor filled the small screen, her expression revealing the intrigue beneath her professional mask. "Two unidentified women were seen entering the barn twenty minutes prior to the two men's arrival." The screen filled with a grainy still shot of two women and all the air in my lungs disappeared. One of them was me. It was me. The same hair, same build, same face— The other woman, a brunette with narrow features, stared up at the security camera defiantly, not even trying to hide her face. The image shifted to the footage of the women slipping into the barn and a time jump to the boys' arrival. "Local authorities are still attempting to identify the deceased woman as well as the four unidentified figures so if you have any information regarding any of them, please contact the Richardson County dispatch office at 624-555-6281. All four are wanted for questioning by the police and are considered suspects in this homicide."
The news anchor shifted topics to local sports and I scrambled to my feet with my hands in my hair. What the hell was going on?
(Dean's POV)
Fuck this bullshit. I stormed into the motel room, throwing the duffle bag of weapons at the threadbare couch roughly. It bounced off and spilled all over the spotted carpet, shattering what little restraint I had managed to hold onto the whole drive back to the motel. Furious profanity burst out of me and I was spoiling for a fight.
"Seriously?!" Sam groaned, throwing up his hands. Even he was starting to get on my nerves, recent death be damned. Sam moved around me with his big lumbering lope and bent down to push everything back into the duffle. Ever helpful Sam, always fixing whatever I had broken and watching me with concern until the back of my neck itched.
"Its fine, Sam." I snapped, irritated he was cleaning up my mess. Not that I had any intention of doing so myself but his quiet helpfulness was getting on my last fucking nerve. How could he be so fucking calm? "Leave it alone!"
"Dean…" My brother sighed and that sound stretched my nerves taut. God. His sighs. Sam knew how to pack a whole freaking conversation into one drawn out sigh. He had been pestering me for days to sit down and talk, said I was getting twitchy. That I was losing my edge, whatever the fuck that meant. That he was concerned.
Yeah, poor longsuffering Sam. This was so hard on him. He wasn't the one that lost Lex. He wasn't the one that failed to keep her safe and secure with us. He wasn't the one living as if every breath was a fucking struggle just because she was gone—Yep, poor fucking Sam.
Sam dropped to sit on the couch, the duffle hanging listlessly in his big paws as he turned those stupid soulful eyes on me. "I miss her too, man."
Goddamn it. The ache in my chest flared fast and hot, racing over my skin like a wildfire. My fist slammed in the nearest wall, over and over again, the pop of the drywall buckling making my ears ring. The pain in my knuckles was a relief, a distraction from this – this emptiness that lived in my gut now. Air battered at my lungs as I braced myself against the wall, the broken drywall crumbling beneath my white-knuckled grip.
Silence filled the air between us for several long moments before Sam's calm, steady voice reached through the haze in my thoughts. "You think I don't see how much this is eating you up inside? I know you. I know that look in your eyes, I know when you're about to lose it. You've been skating that line for the past two weeks and after what just happened back there, you're starting to scare the hell out of me, Dean-"
"You don't know shit, Sammy." I warned, fighting back the frustration that pounded in my veins.
Sam's hold on the duffle bag tightened, the creases around his eyes deepening. "Something's got to give, man - you can't keep going like this!"
I pivoted toward him, struggling to pull in a full breath. "We should have found her already, Sam! Cas only took her so he could protect her until it was safe to bring her back, and they should be back by now! I trust Cas with my life, Sammy, but something is wrong. He hasn't been answering our calls or texts, and he hasn't even told us she's safe! I've left him voicemail after voicemail about this psycho bitch jerking us around by our tails so why the hell hasn't he pulled his feathered ass down here and helped out? She's after him and he's been nowhere! Cas is AWOL yet again and we're left down here dealing with his mess!"
Sam's brow furrowed. "Seriously? You're mad at Cas right now?"
He wanted me to talk? Then I'd fucking talk. "This shifter bitch is after Cas, isn't she? This whole fucking charade she's going through is because she's trying to torture us, torture me into giving him up! Cas can handle that crazy shifter hybrid if he would just come down here for two damn seconds! But no, Cas always has more important things to worry about. For all we know, he dropped Lex off somewhere and she's out there alone!" Just the thought sent pain streaking through my chest and I sent a desperate thought across the link that had been all but useless this past month. God, I hope not, baby girl. I can't handle the thought of you out there with nobody to watch your back.
"Lex is safe, Dean, you have to believe that—"
"Do I, Sammy? Do I have to? Because I'm pretty fucking sure that we have no idea where she is. None. All I know is three days after Cas took her away, I started getting calls from Lex, begging me to come, begging me to save her. Over and over and over, Sam, I've had to listen to her pleading with me to rescue her from the darkness, to rescue her from that fucking cellar again." Air caught in my lungs and I felt my eyes burning. The cracking agony of her voice in those moments… it had created an entirely new set of nightmares. I was stuck in the darkness, everything numb from my head to my toes, unable to take a step but all I can hear are her screams echoing all around me- "And every fucking time it's that shifter!"
"I know, Dean. I've been right beside you man, every time we go to get her back—"
I shoved down the sound of her screams echoing in my mind. "Get her back? You mean every time Shrianna draws us in with lies and we get a front row seat to her mind games?! We have wasted so much fucking time falling for her bullshit when we need to be out looking for Lex!"
Sam ran his hand through his hair restlessly. "Shrianna is dropping bodies, Dean. We've got to handle her before we can keep looking for Lex and Cas. For all we know, they're perfectly safe. Maybe they're holed up somewhere and Cas is just waiting until the right moment to bring her back. We need to trust him, Dean. We don't have a choice. What we need to focus on right now is how we're going to take Shrianna down—"
"I'm telling you, Sam – something is wrong. Lex could be out there, alone—"
"Stop it," Sam cut me off sharply, his tone grabbing my full attention. "You can't think like that, Dean. She's safe. She has to be. We need to focus on here and now. We have a shifter hybrid on our hands that is abducting girls and killing them. Yes, she's powerful enough to project her shifting abilities onto other people. Yes, she's targeting us – you – and putting Lex's face on her captives and making you watch her get tortured and killed over and over again. She wants Cas, and she thinks that breaking you down is the way to get him. That means this is going to keep happening unless we can end her. She can see that it's pushing you closer to the edge, Dean, and you're playing right into her hands when you lose your shit like you did back there!"
"What am I supposed to do, Sammy?! As soon as I set foot in those cellars it's happening all over again. Only this time no matter what we fucking do, we can't save her!"
"It's not her, Dean," Sam argued fiercely. "Those girls aren't Alex. I swear to you, we are going to figure this out and we are going to end Shrianna—"
"How?!" I demanded. "We've tried to kill her, Sam—every time we see that bitch we try to kill her. Nothing has worked – she won't die!" Frustration blazed through my veins, making me itch to tear through something, anything that would ease this horrible emptiness.
"Would you quit pacing and sit down so we can figure this out? Something out there can kill this bitch and we have to find it."
I groaned, even the thought of sitting still making my skin itch. "I can't sit down right now, Sam. If I sit down, it all just—" I flexed my hands restlessly. "Forget it. You wouldn't understand. Just keep talking and I'll try to—"
Sam bolted to his feet, the concerned determination in his eyes abruptly blazing to full-blown anger. My fists bunched instinctively as I squared up to his stupid tall frame, a shameful spin of satisfaction coming to life inside me. Finally. If he was mad at me, I wouldn't feel bad taking a swing at him. If he was mad at me, I could ignore the fear growing in his eyes that I was going to do something stupid. If he was mad at me, we were on a level playing field. Mad Sam was a hell of a lot easier to deal with than a concerned or worried Sam. Mad Sam I knew what to do with.
His tone shot straight past anger and went right for furious. "Don't you fucking say that to me, Dean—don't you think for one second that I'm not in this hell with you! I've been there with you since the beginning, I know what Alex went through! And I've been beside you every step of the fucking way on this. Every fucking step." Sam threw the duffle bag to the side and we both ignored the sound of its contents spilling again. Sam's neck thickened as his shoulders tightened in fury. "I've been there, man, every time we've watched Shrianna kill her. You think I don't miss Alex? I dream about her too, Dean. About seeing that knife at her throat. About her screaming for help. In my dreams - in my nightmares I see Shrianna forcing Alex to heal us, forced to heal both of us. But it's like in the very beginning where all she can do is absorb the pain, to take our injuries into herself and she just keeps taking more and more until she can't stand up beneath it-"
"That's enough!" I bellowed, my hands buried in my hair, his words pounding relentlessly inside my skull. "Shut the fuck up, Sam! You think I don't have enough nightmares of my own?!"
Sam's voice rose even higher to drown out my shout. "I love her too, Dean! She's family and far closer to me than a sister could ever be! Don't tell me that I don't understand what you're going through! I have been beside her through this entire thing! You were gone when everything went down with Stokes and Grady, Dean - but I was there. I know what it looks like to see her give up, I know what it looks like to see her entire world torn apart! She was breaking apart, Dean, and I couldn't do a damn thing to help her in that panic room and I was less than ten feet away. Less than ten goddamn feet." The torment in his eyes was suddenly so immense, so much deeper than I ever could've imagined.
I hadn't thought about it once, what he had been through that day. We had shared less than a handful of words about it, both of us focused on just getting Lex through that transition and getting Grady contained. When Bobby and I had burst into that basement, the sight of that slimy bastard shoving a bloody Sam to his knees had short circuited my brain. It had only taken one shot to nail that fucker in the spine and Sam had immediately taken over, dropping him to the ground under a flurry of blows that hadn't left many bones intact. I didn't remember much beyond that because my gaze had found Lex, my strong beautiful scarred Lex, covered in blood and barely holding herself upright with a collapsed Cas at her feet. There had been so much blood in that room – it had coated the floor and splashed up on the walls as if someone had taken a bucket of red paint and flung it. I didn't understand how someone could lose so much blood and survive but there she was, my warrior goddess, standing protectively over Cas even though she had been nearly destroyed on every level imaginable.
That was the moment I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I needed her. I needed to be at her side, lending her my strength when she reached the limits of her own. I needed to protect her and to be there at the end of the day helping her put herself back together again. The feeling that had been brewing in my gut since the very beginning had suddenly gathered form and substance in that moment. It wasn't about want or desire or any sort of logical thought. I just knew she was mine, she was my choice, my warrior, my partner. That was the moment I knew that I needed her. I barely remembered Bobby ordering Sam to get Cas out of the panic room so we could handle Stokes because all I could see or hear was her and that fucking scalpel at her throat.
Sam was right. He was well familiar with Lex's darkness. He had been struggling with his own burden and all I had done was be a complete jackass. All of the pent up anger making me hungry for a fight suddenly swept away, leaving that goddamned hollowness tearing jaggedly at my gut. "God, Sammy. I – I'm sorry. I'm sorry I haven't been … I haven't been there for you. I just feel like everything is spinning out of control. …She's my fucking soulmate, Sammy. I can't—I feel like I can't breathe without her."
I could feel Sam reeling in his agony, trying to cap it back off now that it had been let loose. He watched me prowl around the room restlessly, my hands clenching in frustration as I searched. There had to be something here, anything that could ease this ache. We were stuck in this horrible cycle. It hadn't been long after Cas had swept Lex away that we had received that first gut-wrenching phone call. That first moment was so clear in my mind, the brutal hope that had torn apart my world and rebuilt it in a moment just at the sound of her voice. But it had been the moments that followed that built my nightmares now, the stuttering pain in her tone, the sharp terror edged in desperation. I knew each time a call came that it was Shrianna. Four times she had put me through this hell, four times that I had come around a corner to see Lex, chained once again to a chair in a darkened cellar. Four times that our attempts to kill the hybrid had failed and she had forced us to watch Lex tortured. And four different times I had helplessly watched the love of my life die right in front of my eyes.
I finally found what I was looking for, the bottle of Jack I had picked up the night before. It was barely half full after how hard I hit it last night but it was enough. My eyes met Sam's and I raised my eyebrow in question but he just shook his head, still wrestling with his own demons. I slammed the lid down on the bedside table and dropped to the edge of the lumpy mattress, pulling in a long deep gulp. I stared down at the bottle resting on my leg. A drop of blood fell from my busted knuckles and dropped slowly over the label. My knuckles rarely bled anymore, the callouses from hunting for so many years having long toughened them up. But the sight of my bloody knuckles resting just over that familiar label slammed into my brain like a freight train.
Lex had been drinking Jack that night in Bobby's basement after that piece of shit Grady had betrayed her. I still kicked my own ass for sleeping so soundly that night. She had been down there for hours, beating herself bloody on that punching bag to try and drown out the darkness. I wake up from the nightmares and there's only more darkness. God, her expression that night still killed me. Despite everything she had been through, there had always been a grittiness in her eyes, a determination that nothing would break her. That grit was what had first snuck beneath my skin and wouldn't let loose. She was a fighter, my Lex. But there had been two moments when that grit had failed her, two moments when she simply didn't have enough strength left to keep going. Once had been when I found her wailing on that punching bag despite the blood running from her knuckles and the fact her body could hardly hold her to her feet - that was the first time I had seen her shatter. Her words still had the power to bring me to my knees. I don't know how to stop hurting. I don't know how to make this pain go away. Her voice had been ragged and her eyes empty, the green I loved nothing but a memory to the darkness that was welling up inside her. The second moment had been in the panic room with Stokes when she had begged me to let her die. Just let me die. I'm sorry, Dean ... I'mso sorry. It was that memory that clawed at me, that panicked everything inside me. I had seen her give up. I couldn't handle the thought that it might happen again when I was too far away to reach her.
That memory sucked the air from my lungs. She needed me. She needed me to fight the darkness again and I wasn't going to fail her. This distance between us was breaking us apart, and I needed to fix it. I needed to find a way to kill this shifter so I could focus on Lex. She needed me and I wasn't going to fail her again.
(Alex's POV)
Three days later, I still had no idea what the fuck was going on, but a pattern had started to emerge. There was a string of cut-throat homicides reported from Austin, Minnesota, which was just a few hours outside Bobby's, stringing all the way down Interstate 90 and across state lines into Illinois. As soon as I saw the news footage, I had started digging into the police records. I had picked up a few tricks when living on the streets and fine-tuning my cyber skills had definitely been one of them. Navigating the layers of public records to reach the private police records was time consuming but effective, and I found everything I needed. There were seven cases in all now – seven young women that had been murdered in barns in the past five weeks. Each crime scene was exactly the same.
I thought it was obvious, at first. It was clearly a shapeshifter case. Word must've gotten around the supernatural world about me, about my Asuat connection to Dean and someone had seen the potential for weakness. Someone was trying to flush Dean out. But my initial theory of a simple shapeshifter didn't explain all the details. The boys could handle a shapeshifter, no problem, so why hadn't they taken care of it? Why hadn't the boys ended this psycho's rampage? So either someone was running a shifter ring whose sole purpose was to fuck with the Winchesters or we were dealing with something else entirely.
An idea was starting to form in my mind of what could be happening but I hoped I was wrong. God, I hoped every bit of what I imagined was completely wrong. I couldn't worry about the things I didn't know for sure, but wrestling my dark thoughts down was a struggle. I had to focus on here, and now. I had to focus on finding the boys.
Whoever was doing this was escalating. The killings were spaced evenly throughout the intervening weeks but the last three victims had been found barely a day apart. In the past seventy-two hours, three girls had been slaughtered in dark cellars. Three. Whatever this was, whatever sick son of a bitch was making these girls turn into me, they had a personal beef with Dean. I had no rock-solid proof that the boys were at every single murder scene but the dread curling in my gut told me it was likely. And if they had been, these past five weeks hadn't just been a brutal separation for Dean but an outright personal hell.
I watched the security footage on a loop, desperately watching for clues. They were alive, or at least they had been at this point last week after victim number four. But any comfort I found in that knowledge was swallowed by the pain of watching Dean charge into the underground cellar at a dead run, barely waiting to frantically kick in the doors even though Sam was still yards behind him. Dean had thrown the shattered pieces out of the way and bolted into the cellar, with Sam putting on a burst of speed and launching himself down through the shattered doors fast on his brother's heels.
Even through the shadows and the crappy video quality, I could tell Dean was running on pure adrenaline. He probably hadn't slept more than a few hours each night, if he was sleeping at all. As soon as the news clip had ended, I had started trying to force messages through the distance, desperate to feel the smallest hint of his presence, to get the smallest thought across to him. Breathe, baby. I just need you to breathe. I'm all right. I'm so close. Just stop for a rest, Dean – I'll figure this out. Just rest… If I stayed focused, it didn't hurt so much. If I kept making progress toward them, I could almost tune out the soul-deep ache in my chest.
I had pulled the entire length of the security footage from that incident, hoping there would be more information on the film. But if there was one thing worse than watching Dean's desperate attack on that cellar, it was watching how slowly the two of them had exited the building. They emerged and stood for a moment, side by side as they stared into the darkness. Their movements were dragging, their weapons holstered and their shoulders dropped as if a heavy weight was bearing down on them. But the defeat that showed in every line of their shadowy forms just gutted me. I knew what defeat felt like. I knew what desperation could do to your decisions.
Dean was getting reckless and Sam was just trying to keep him from doing anything too stupid. And that was before they found three more bodies in quick succession, three more victims they hadn't been able to save. They had to know it wasn't me, they had to know heading into those cellars that someone was just fucking with them, yanking them around, shoving their faces in the fact that they were too late every time. But I knew Dean. And I knew that no matter how logical he tried to be about it he would harbor a hope that this time, this time he would be able to save the girl. That this time it would be me and this horrible separation would end. Dean was getting desperate and I was afraid that desperation was going to get him hurt. Or worse.
I stared at all the scribbled notes and maps in front of me, spread out on the front seat of a pickup truck. There had been seven victims so far. We were dealing with something or somethings that could shapeshift to match my appearance, and it appeared upon death that they reverted to their natural state. It had taken me all three days to finally find the pattern between the girls that had been taken as part of this massive charade. Out of thousands of missing girls, those seven had two things in common: they had grown up in foster care, and all had been prior kidnapping victims. It had taken me far too long to figure it out and just the thought of it made my stomach turn. Whoever was taking the girls wanted them afraid. And who would be more afraid than those who already knew what it was like to lose your freedom? To be completely at someone else's mercy?
A second video had popped up in the police records just an hour ago. The same unidentified woman and another me-look-alike had been seen in Harmony, Illinois. The last body had been dropped in Argyle, just an hour east of there. So far, the monster had kept their kidnapping spree right along Interstate 90 on a clear route straight into Chicago. The lady without my face had stared defiantly at the camera again, as if daring me to come after her. I didn't know what her role was in this whole charade, but she was fucking with my boys and she could bet her skinny ass that I was going to track her down. Only two girls matching the victim profile were still unaccounted for in McHenry County near Harmony, Illinois. One of them had been missing for over a week which ruled them out, and the last girl fit the monster's M.O. perfectly. Every victim had been found within a few miles of their home, and that distance had been rapidly decreasing as the sick fuck got more and more brazen.
Everything came together in a single moment of perfect clarity that had my heart beginning to pound erratically.
I knew who the captive was.
Which meant I knew where she lived.
Which meant I now knew within a two-mile radius where she was being kept and where Sam were Dean were going to be lured next.
I was going to see my boys today.
(Dean's POV)
"Dean, there's a new video in the police records for the case." Sam leapt to his feet, laptop in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other.
My chest started pounding like a drum as I moved to his side so I could watch. We knew Shrianna was in Harmony because she had been flaunting her latest victim in front of security cameras for the past several hours and Sam had been working on figuring out who the girl was so we could try and pinpoint a location. Normally Shrianna taunted us with a phone call before revealing the location but my phone had stayed eerily silent. This time it looked like Shrianna had decide to change the rules.
The crystal clear video feed that popped up on the screen was startling compared to the grainy security feeds we had been keeping an eye on the past several hours. Sam clicked on the volume. Lex was there, chained to a chair, her clothing ragged and bloody and her face already a mess of welts and bruises. Blood dripped out of the corner of her mouth. The girl was gasping, sobbing, choking for air as panic rolled her eyes frantically. The pounding in my chest eased slightly as her outright terror sank in. It wasn't Lex. Lex would never let her fear show so blatantly. Not Lex. Still a victim, still needs saved, but that is not my Lex.
A voice sounded just off screen. Shrianna. "There now, pet. Relay your message."
The girl sobbed pitifully for several moments before she managed to get the words out. "Bring—bring Cas. Or… n-next time death … w-will be a mercy I d-don't grant."
A chill skittered down my spine as my phone finally pinged with an address. My gaze shot to all of the eclectic items we had gathered and spread out on the motel bed. The spell had to work. This time was going to be different. This time, I was going to end this bitch once and for all.
(Alex's POV)
The early morning sun barely stretched over the fruit trees that edged the farm, leaving much of the property in an uneven shadow. I had switched vehicles at the last farm, taking a truck that had been patiently waiting beneath a tarp and ready to be taken for a spin. I had to leave it out of sight a few miles back on the road, but had grabbed the tire iron and hunting knife resting on the dashboard. The knife was a comforting weight against my lower back as I crept along the shadows, eyes peeled for any movement around me. My grip around the tire iron was slick with sweat as I made my way along the tree line cautiously, heading toward the barn that sat in the back acreage. My heart was racing deep inside my chest and my head was pounding from my relentless effort to push a message through our link. Dean. I'm here. I'm right here and you both better be all right because if you aren't, I'm going to lose my fucking mind. I know you're close, Dean, come on—I just need to hear your voice… But there was nothing. Just complete silence that sent a sick twist of disappointment piercing through my chest. But it was relentless, this jagged hope inside me, flaring hot and vicious in my chest and obliterating all logical thought until only one word pounded in my veins. Dean.
He had to be here. He had to be close. This was the last barn within a two-mile radius of the missing girl's house. The barn before me was a long narrow stretch of sagging shingles and deteriorating walls and just the sight of it made a shiver run down my spine. It was eerily similar to the barn I had been held captive under for all those months. My intuition went on high alert and the hair stood on the back of my neck. This was it. If I had figured this all out correctly, there was someone waiting in the cellar beneath that dilapidated barn, waiting in the darkness with a poor girl with my face chained to a wooden chair, a knife held to her throat. Waiting for the Winchesters.
I reached the edge of the barn, lifting the tire iron up to my shoulder and spinning it readily. My breath was high and tight in my chest as I took those last few steps and spun around the corner, ready to swing at any hint of danger.
The Impala sat in front of me, gracefully waiting with a fine layer of dust on her chrome edging.
Air whistled from my lungs in a gust and I fought to stay silent as tears rushed to my eyes. They were here. My boys were here. Exhilaration spun through my veins as my heart began to race so quickly that I struggled to breathe. All of the desperation and hope and terror swirled into one massive ache in my chest as one thought crystallized in my mind. Dean. I'm here! I'm right fucking here! We were close enough now, everything was going to be okay. He had to hear me, had to hear my thoughts through the link. We were close.
But something was wrong. The link felt just as empty and vast as it had this entire separation. The thought I had launched toward him with all the finesse of a grenade just hung there between us, in stasis, Dean's end of the link feeling completely blank. Panic grabbed me by the throat for a moment. He was fine. He had to be fine. Something was simply blocking the link. That's it. Maybe if I just-
Voices rose up from the depths beneath the barn and my focus shifted sharply as adrenaline shot through my veins. If they were yelling, they definitely had company. Dean's voice rose to a shout, sending a tingle down my spine and smashing through the fear that had me by the throat. He was gloriously alive, and he was pissed as hell. Whoever was down there was about to get their ass kicked. After Krieger, surely this fucker would be small potatoes against the three of us working together. The Winchester family is back in action.
The rough timbre of Dean's anger soothed the edges of my mind even as the voices continued to rise and I crept farther into the darkened barn. The morning sun still hadn't quite made its full appearance and the barn only had a few windows, leaving the stalls and slumped supports in shadow. There was a door, though, just to my right that had all the markings of a Dean Winchester entrance. It was barely hanging onto its hinges. All that lay beyond the doorframe was a stairwell descending into darkness.
A faint mustiness drifting from below suddenly started pulling memories forward in my mind. Darkness. Stone steps. Echoing sounds of my snarls, of daring them to try harder, of taunting them that they could never break me. I sucked in a deep breath, forcing myself to pull in even more of that mustiness but not allowing myself to get stuck in the memories. Dean. Dean was down there and I wasn't going to let anything hold me back.
A soft voice from one of the stalls at the far end of the barn suddenly caught my attention, halting my foot on the first step of the stairwell. The sounds were quiet, barely more than a murmur but distinct words were being uttered in the shadows. I tightened my grip on the tire iron and started making my way toward the whispers.
As always, I love to hear your thoughts! We're almost there, my lovelies. Almost there...
